Sending Mail

Jesus, that was a relief. I hate it when the paragraphs hang around. Because of this dial-up connection, it took so long to send, that I was able to get a drink and roll two smokes, one of which is set aside in case I get a phone call (rarely) and I usually smoke it just before I go to bed. I greatly enjoyed the day with Sara and TR. It felt like a museum and that we were the people that were making it happen. I love installing shows, and the two of the nine bays that I got done today are very nearly perfect. It's fulfilling to do nice work. And I'm good at installing. The last piece I hung today must have been a new painting (I haven't looked at any of the paperwork on this show) because it had never been hung before. It didn't have any hanging hardware, so I had to "rig it", the phrase used in the trades for preparing something to be hung. I have a large inventory of hardware. I had the thought today that I could hang anything. It might require a few phone calls and renting a crane, but if it can be hung, I can hang it. One thing I liked very much about working Saturday, now yesterday (I had wanted to say today, but that was no longer accurate), is that it was so casual. Sara and TR and me, joking with each other, the small talk and banter. It was world-class. If it were an event at the Olympics, we would be contenders. The eye is the nose that knows. All of the changes that Sara made were spot on the mark. There's a fluidity, now, walking through the show, where one thing leads to another. I love this job, it pleases me in a way that comes right up through my toes, I feel it viscerally. That last painting, yesterday, I'd done the math, I'd rigged the hardware, TR and Sara were talking music theory, and I just raised my hand. TR knew I was ready to hang the piece and came right over, we hadn't exchanged a word, and we hung the piece, and it was perfect. A drop dead moment. This show is so beautiful it breaks my heart. Let that be a test. Falstaff would have something to say, but, of course, Ariel would too. The sound of the wind wakes me, just after dawn, and a leaf-storm ensues. The leaves have lost their subtleness and rattle against each other. The three crows are back and I had a couple of dead mice in the freezer, so I took them out and tossed them up on the outhouse roof. The crows seemed pleased that they had gotten their message across. In the summer they spend most of their time down at the lake, eating left-over bait and lunch scraps. The first Pileated Woodpecker of the season, and I watch him for maybe thirty minutes checking various trees. His scarlet crest is such a pure color. The wind is constant at 10 to 15 mph, with the occasional gust sweeping across the ridgetop at 25 to 30 mph, when it hits the maximum the leaf fall is spectacular. I spend most of the day out on the back porch sipping a glass of old-vine zinfandel, watching leaves fall. It's instructional, in terms of aerodynamics, but it's also incredibly peaceful. Nothing but the wind. Trees with leaves have a lot more surface area than the bare trees of winter. Wood is so flexible. It's quite the show.