Last night I tried to stay awake to see the moon rise, but there was a thick band of cloud on the horizon so while there was a perceptible glow, the moon itself was hidden. As it passed midnight I muttered ‘white rabbit white rabbit’ (doesn’t everyone?) and woke to a cool breeze straight from the Pacific, hot coffee and birdsong so marvellous I sat outside in the sun with a blanket and just listened. A man’s voice echoed across the water with a wonderful rich rolling Indian/Pakistani accent (think Deepak Chopra!) – not so common in the US as in England, so I sat in a sentimental haze, dazzled by the swallows. Aaaaahhhhh.
I could never have invented a moment like that, but it just happened. A gift.
I am in far better temper today, buoyed by interesting correspondence and this lovely post http://www.alices-adventuresinwonderland.com/2010/06/rough-linens.html. It thrilled me to the core that Gaia gets it – that deep, sentimental attachment to something which connects to your past. Proust’s madeleine indeed! thank you Gaia!