a carpet of pink

a carpet of pink

petals beneath the Saucer

Magnolia's out flung arms

On the Spring Equinox, a magnificent Saucer Magnolia, covered with a froth of pink blossoms, puts on a grand display of the beauty of spring. The fragile flowers, blown by the wind, drift down like pink snow, carpeting the grass with pink petals. This ornamental tree, which originated in China, is also called Tulip Magnolia because of the vase-like shape of the flowers before they fully open. The strange spell of hot weather in early March has given the Magnolias in our area a rare chance to come into full bloom, and the air all around the tree is filled with the sweet scent. Many a spring, the blossoms open only to turn brown during a late frost.
          Scientists say that Magnolia blossoms are some of the most primitive of flowers. If you look at the center of the petals, you will see what looks like a red tassel. A closer look at this reproductive structure reveals many curled stigma. When fertilized, the stigma develop into an aggregate fruit like a blackberry, except Magnolia fruits are hard and dry rather than soft and juicy. The seed head looks quite exotic, like a turban with bright red beads popping out from a cone of curved pouches. The leaves, which begin to appear as the blossoms drop, are wide, pointed at the tip, deep green and quite leathery, turning a golden brown when they in turn fall, smothering anything that attempts to grow beneath the tree. Even so, one can see why the Magnolia is a favorite ornamental specimen tree.

hidden behind

hidden behind

the daffodil's yellow trumpet,

a crab spider lurking

When I left for the Yucatan at 3:30 am in early March, the thermometer read 15 F (-9 C) and the frozen landscape consisted of dead brown grass and bare branches. When I returned ten days later, it was 86 F (30 C), hotter than the tropics, with green shoots of grass and early spring flowers all abloom.
          Today I sit under a pin oak beside a coterie of daffodils to take a portrait. With ruffled yellow trumpets held above the six pointed petals that form the perianth, they look like Renaissance ladies with golden crowns and white ruffs. I choose one and bring the camera as close as I can to capture the graceful shapes emerging from the daffodil's yellow corona: the three semi-circular lobes of the stigma at the end of the style and the pollen-encrusted anthers.
          That's when I notice a small black bug crawling up one of the columnar filaments. The next instant, a brown crab spider, lying in ambush, darts out from behind the corona, brandishing its long forelegs as if to say, "That's MY bug, back off!" We play a little game of hide and seek as I try to get a close-up of the spider. Meanwhile, the little black bug wanders off along the ruffled edge of the daffodil's corona. Just as quickly as it appeared, the spider dives out of sight. Game over, back to business.

Irish moss climbs up

Irish moss climbs up

the trunk of a twisted tree

at Castle Archdale

The grounds of Castle Archdale, once a large estate in County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland, is now a county park. The once carefully tended gardens have gone wild, unwinding centuries of domestication. Perhaps St. Patrick rested under this ancient tree with its twisted limbs covered with moss. But I rather imagine he missed catching a glimpse of the Good People flitting through the lush greenery.

melt holes on Jack's Pond

melt holes on Jack's Pond

fuzzy around the edges

where snow meets ice

We're getting more snow in March than we have all winter. Snowfall all day and into the night, changing from slanting clumps to floating feather flakes to tiny pellets. It's a world of black and white. The ice holes on Jack's Pond look like fuzzy black caterpillars. A diorama of white mastodons curves along the black wire holding the bamboo fence together. A snow serpent undulates along the top of the steel bike rack. And white icing lines the fractal limbs of a Black Locust.

miniature landscapes

miniature landscapes

drawn with number two pencil

line the walls of Bill's Room

ICON Gallery has a new installation in the upstairs gallery, Bill's Room. It's lined with miniature landscapes of suns, moons, water, clouds and trees, all slowly and carefully drawn with number two pencil by the artist and gallery owner, Bill Teeple.
          "Ever since I opened ICON," Bill says, "I've been so busy with art shows and classes that I haven't taken the time to do my own art. For a long time now, I've been wanting to have my own studio right here in the gallery so I have a place to work."
          Bill's Room is in the back of the building, up a short, open staircase. A shoji screen separates the room from the main gallery. In the middle of the room he's constructed a two-tatami-mat platform with a low Japanese-style table held together with wooden pegs. A slanted drawing board rests in the middle of the table, bracketed by handmade blank books and a case of drawing pencils.
          "I want to get a zabuton to sit on," he says. He starts to walk onto the platform, then stops. "I guess I'd better take my shoes off." 
          Bill sits zazen style, picks up a yellow mechanical pencil and makes tiny marks on the drawing in progress. Immediately his attention is totally drawn into the creative process. Each miniature drawing takes an untold number of hours. The result is soft and luminous, an invitation to go deep into another world.
          In sharp contrast to the pencil drawings, two of Bill's colorful abstract paintings occupy their own space on two of the four walls. A pair of gigantic speakers masquerading as sculptures emit soft music. The delicate and dazzling art work, the wabi sabi art table, the flowing music, and the serenity of Bill absorbed in creativity envelopes everyone who enters this magical space.

early March surprise

early March surprise

snowfall coats the north face of

everything standing still

Early March, that adolescent time between Winter and Spring, one moment throwing a tantrum, the next moment a warm hug. The day begins mildly enough, gray sky, just above freezing. Mid-morning, big blobs of wet snow pelting sideways. A girl in white tights and a puffy red jacket scurries by under a purple umbrella. Trees, plastered white on the north side, look like skeletons. A tree peony wears a crown capped with ermine. By mid-afternoon, it's warming up and the snow turns to sleet and slush. Wind blows the heavy, wet snow off the branches, splattering and riddling the granular crystals on the ground. The white icing on trees, poles and buildings sags and sinks like sinuous white snakes.

Independence Day in Kuta

Independence Day in Kuta --

corn on the cob and passion fruit --

no fireworks

On the way to Kuta for an Independence Day party, we pass a cavalcade of motorcycles carrying a three-meter kite. It takes 6-12 men to carry one. A lot of kites aloft, carried by the trade winds. A little further on a cop is escorting a gang of rich men on Harley-Davidson motorcycles (duty is 100 percent of the price).
          Steve brought the girls and me, while Robin stayed with Gina, who is due any time now. I ask him how he feels about the young Balinese couple's double suicide. 
          "It was a cop out," he says, "a weakness of character. The boy's family told them to work it out, not flat rejection. She could have made a life for herself in Denpesar, not like the old days." 
          "So you don't think it was the work of the black witch?"
          "That woman is not smart enough for black magic. Clever and strong, but not smart."
          The party is at the Ramada Inn, paid for by our tax dollars. Quite a fancy hotel, right on the black sand beach with colorful fishing boats, washed-up coral, expats in skimpy swim suits, and a sign: "Please refrain from topless sunbathing." Massages in little open air bales. A swimming pool with two waterfalls and a Balinese temple gate in the middle. At a table by the pool, a handsome Kuta Cowboy is entertaining a middle-aged American woman with dyed black hair. 
          There's free beer, Coke (flat Pepsi) and Miranda (some red stuff made by Pepsi). Red, white and blue balloons, a painting of Liberty, blue and white striped beach towels, red chairs, white tablecloths. The buffet is mostly an attempt to imitate American food, with various degrees of success. Nice salads, but the corn on the cob, coffee and desserts miss the mark. Some of the fruit is delicious but definitely exotic: passion fruit, like cracking a yellow egg and eating green snot, and salak, snakeskin with insides like a giant garlic, slightly sweet. 
          The band is good, lots of songs from the 50s and 60s. Hot tub, swimming in the ocean at sunset, but no fireworks.