A Chain of Circumstance

Bopping around the house listening to Zazie and Pascal Obispo. French singers, not exactly household words in this neck of the woods. Found the CD on Air France en route to Paris and points north. They are now my little secret.
That same flight, after staying up half the night listening to the music over and over again, I also saw rosy-fingered dawn. Damn, that Homer was good. Imagine one's words lasting so long. But I digress. Not only did I get my paws on the CD, I used the dawn as foreshadowing in World of Mirrors.

We are in Zara, the narrator's head:

I woke up with a thirst from too much wine. The humming drone of jet engines. Sprawled in the wide leather seat, wrapped in a soft blanket, hurling through the night en route to Germany. I raised the window shade. A faint light in the eastern sky. Not yet dawn but not dark either. Suspended between day and night. We were flying over a deep layer of clouds. My eyes opened wider. Red pools of molten blood lay atop the clouds. This eerie sight had to be an illusion from the light of the rising sun, but it looked so real. My heart hammered as I stared at the crimson lakes. Red sky at morning had never looked like this strange. ©

When I think of the old stuff, stories, experiences, and all that I have dredged up during the writing process! And then sometimes, you open the blind on the airplane and it is handed to you. Thinking about doing some English words to Desenchantee. How cool would that be?

The garden looks great. I've been on a grooming binge, clipping off dead flowers, one last feeding, and much admiration. It's so nice to work outside now that the weather is cooler. Bad deer at the toad lilies again, but they have blooms acoming, so don't seem to mind. Toad Lillies! What a name. How could I not buy them? The golden rod is finally blooming along with the sedum. Sedum is a wonderful plant, because it spreads. Goldenrod spreads, too, but I can't believe I actually bought it. "You paid good money for a weed," I tell myself, everytime I walk past the poor maligned plant.

Grapeshot, who is in a rather good mood because of the really cool French music.