We managed a tiny last bit of rain but

by week’s end when a former student  of Linda’s visited from France

and we were making the rounds [as best we could – a pack of unknown dogs at Bill and Mu’s

precluded visiting with our unruly Inkies] the smoke was back.  Dean was, however, in

residence with his latest and loosest paintings ever yet…

and tales.

Outside, however,

it was as if the mountains had never existed although a couple of

great dinners with engaging conversations extending back to CCA, forward unto the pleasures and difficulties of being un-French in a provincial French town and much else did.

Sunday

we walked down the meadow visiting the guest cabin, installations

such as the Cautionary Sculpture [wood would even here rot, given decades],

“Daphne”,

“Casa Mesa”,

the house from the south and

“Oculus” among sunflowers’ exuberance

until Simin continued her tour of Family and the West, driving on to Santa Fe while we

crossed the valley to Mary and Adrienne’s La Veta garden for an afternoon poetry reading

by Mary’s lawyer sister from Puerto Rico followed by an early dinner with the three of them, the two of us and one other at Alys’ across the street which made for most enjoyable events before

groping our way home to dogs in the haze,

the invisibility of mountains compensated for by a very imbibable wine left behind by

our friend.

Monday and beyond the obscura continuosa remained but for good luck

there was this guy

or this one, the Friend Awaiting.

So Athens is surrounded by a ring of fire and California’s Dixie has exceeded half a million acres…and still counting.  Fun times, these end times.

Guess we’ll go to Pueblo…