Four’s Flights

Carmen and Miss Moon, in love

what a wonderful visit — we never get enough time with old friends, do we!

I dreamed I had to mail
the child I lost
in a handmade envelope of
coloured paper,
with golden stamps
of intricate design
onto the curling
midnight delivery
sea. There was a confetti of mail, along with mine,
stamped appropriately
a careful agony of
deckle
edge.

But I never saw the boat. I saw the black waves
crest
and regenerate
endlessly
in the endless wet
and spray-flecked
rolling dark,
in perfect rhythm
with the permanent salt throb
of loss.

the famous garden berm project is about half done, which I find astonishing as projects around here usually take years, not weeks. It’s been fun watching the guys from the gravel plant operate the dump truck, the backhoe, and the cat, very seamless and balletic, though the guys themselves are not. Rough crew, these. I suspect heir boss mistreats them or they’d be nicer. Frank’s crew is a sweet as maple candy — he treats them like princes, which they are. I’d adopt them if I could. They’re out there making tree wells. I had to run to the store to get them work gloves as they’re too Spartan to take care of themselves. Will post pictures of them — such gorgeous young faces!

Expecting a big storm here — hope we don’t lose berm-height, but oh well — will have to plant evergreens on top anyway so as not to see the road from the garden anymore. Think by midsummer it will be lovely, and in the meantime will keep guest house prices way down so people will forgive the upheaval in what used to be such a serene, small garden.