Category Archives: Writings

Colonia San Antonio, photography, Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Thoughts upon taking a leak …well, taking a picture of a leak

This is my kitchen faucet.

Well, one of them.

There are four — two basins with two faucets each, two hot, and two cold.

Earlier today, this one — the hot tap in the left basin — was leaking.

The drip was annoying as hell. I was trying to distract myself from the need to write.

And the drip, drip, drip kept breaking my lack of concentration.

“I need a plumber,” thinks I, thinking of great thoughts.

So I start to take a photo to send to our property manager.

But at this moment, the sun reaches around the corner of the country kitchen window.

And catches the gleaming brass in its grasp.

“This is rather beautiful,” I think.

“Not annoying at all.”

The brass faucet floats in the air, like a shiny spaceship lost in the cosmos

Meanwhile, I’ve been carrying full pots of water out into the courtyard.

And nominating various plants as “Most Needy” before

Showering them with water, like the beauty queens they are.

“This is art,” I say to no one. “And any moment, a guy with a tool belt and rubber washers

Is going to end this lovely presentation like some emotionally-damaged art critic for the New Yorker.”

I know what I have to do: Capture this hommage to Paul Cézanne.

If a dripping faucet can be likened to a still-life study of fruits and bottles.

So this is it.

It only took about 30 tries to get the dripping water just right.

“Leak more, you bastard!” I shout.

No, not really. I can be a very patient guy when I’m in mindfulness mode.

I was OK with it when the plumber arrived.

Though feeling a little like he’s come to put my dog down.

“Be gentle with my leaking faucet,” I urge.

(Not really. Seriously? You thought I’d say that to a guy who rips out pipes for a living?)

It takes about five minutes, with the right parts, to nip the drip.

Kind of sad.

And yet, look! It is raining out right now.

The Creator’s own leaky faucet.

Though it lacks the brass of my kitchen sink.

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Colonia San Antonio, photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Missed the parade, caught the warmup

After a long night of parading, doing battle with the Devil, blowing off fireworks, celebrating the city’s namesake, and just all-around old-fashioned shoulder-rubbing with neighbors — what do San Miguelenses like to do the next day?

Parade some more.

Of course.

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Colonia San Antonio, photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Upon reflection: Once in a blue moon

The moon also rises.

The painting of a tiny Thai jungle village set against snow-tipped blue mountains in our casita has gained a full moon.

The moon wasn’t there yesterday.

And it was not there when Rose Alcantara acquired the painting on the island of Koh Samui, off Thailand, many many years ago. (She doesn’t want to think of how many.)

It is a charming and primitive scene of four red-tiled peaked-roof houses, painted in bright tropical colors. A red-dirt road curves through the settlement. Flowers of many colors encroach on the green grass yards, pushed in by the encroaching jungle. A rickety fence or two and an ancient wooden cart enhance the setting.

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Colonia San Antonio, photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

The Queen of the Night makes a stunning appearance, her reign so tragically short

The Night-Blooming Cereus is putting on quite a show in our Colonia San Antonio courtyard tonight.

One night only, folks. By morning these beauties will be withered old crones, bereft of the intoxicating scent currently filling our home.

Rose spotted the — what shall we call it? — the chrysalis of the Cereus earlier this afternoon. Raul our gardener was just as excited to see them — there are two. We missed the blooming of several of the cactus flowers earlier.

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photography, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

And there it is … bloom!

Parque Juarez, with its countless shades of green, sometimes surprises.

This one was a stunner, to me.

A bougainvillea, alone among the carefully parsed trees and bushes, backlit by the late afternoon sun.

It was as if on fire, a brilliant fuschia fire.

Life in San Miguel de Allende is forever magical.

When you least expect it to be.

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photography, Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende, Uncategorized, Writings

Oceans. Just oceans.

The view along the Cliff Walk in Newport, Rhode Island. Besides the ocean and rocky shore, you can look at the backsides of fabulous summer homes built by robber barons back in pre-tax eras. Enormous marble and granite edifices that were only used during summer’s High Season. The one to the left was used in filming “The Great Gatsby” back in the 1970s. I lived in Newport then.

A reader pointed out yesterday that my blog post on flowers which included some from Cape Cod and Newport, Rhode Island, was sorely lacking, in his opinion.

He essentially asked, How can you post pictures from these two places and not include a single ocean view?

In the writer’s own words, “No cape or Newport there..no ocean in site.”

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Colonia San Antonio, photography, San Miguel de Allende, Uncategorized, Writings

Flowers. Just flowers — but from San Miguel de Allende, Cape Cod, and Newport

In San Miguel de Allende, we call this the rainy season.

Many days, the clouds will roll in during the afternoon and by 5 p.m. or so, there will be rain, thunder, and lightning.

It is happening right now as I write about it. A little early in the day, 1:30 p.m. but nobody ever complains about the rain.

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Colonia San Antonio, photography, San Miguel de Allende, Uncategorized, Writings

Clouds. Just clouds.

Sometimes, you just have to go with the material that is right in front of you.

Today, it is nothing more than clouds.

Just clouds.

“You should see the clouds,” Rose calls out to me. I am in my favorite chair, in a cool dark room, battling ignorance and mean people on Twitter. “They’re really beautiful.”

She is right. Rose knows her clouds.

Big beautiful fluffy, floating, languid, lazily hithering and dithering clouds.

Not “looks like rain” clouds. Not trouble-ahead clouds. Not massive gray-dark sheets of roiling angry wetness.

Just legions of marshmallow clouds floating over San Miguel de Allende on a summer’s afternoon.

The kind of clouds in which you can see famous faces, clowns, ghouls, horses, funny dogs, dragons, elephants, and cars.

The kind of clouds for which soft fields of grass were created, so you could lie on your back and see famous faces, clowns, ghouls, horses, funny dogs, dragons, elephants, and cars.

The kind of clouds that inspired Joni Mitchell to write “Both Sides Now.”

The kind of clouds that John Constable painted in sprawling vistas like “The Hay Wain” and “Wivenhoe Park.”

Where would poets be without clouds? Looking at you, Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Maybe they are the same clouds, just recycled two centuries later?

Still hanging around, but posing now for iPhones.

Or, the kind of clouds under which young people fall in love and old people fall into reminiscing.

The kind of clouds for which the word “chiaroscuro” was invented.

Nobody can say that, back in the day, they had better clouds than these.

I’ve seen the evidence.

The best clouds ever — and always — are the ones that capture your imagination for a moment, just before morphing into whispy cotton candy swirls.

Timing is everything with clouds.

Pull your head up out of your cell phone, your busy works, your depression, your self-obsession, your shoe gazing — and look up.

Don’t let a day go by without observing the clouds, no matter how many or how few.

Don’t compare them to clouds past. That is not why they are here.

This is no cloud fashion show.

Clouds appear because they are trying to tell us something.

Seek out their shapeshifting secrets.

Learn their names, understand their reasons.

Follow the shadows they cast upon the ground.

You won’t find a pot of gold.

Maybe something better.

Love?

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Rants and raves, Uncategorized, Writings

Things that happen — or don’t — when your debit card dies and goes to finance heaven

Thirty things I can not do — according to the 876 e-mails that I just deleted — now that my only debit card has been hacked and terminated by my bank:

  1. Buy tickets for the San Miguel chamber music festival’s new season.
  2. Help the Democratic Party defeat the existential threat to democracy that is the Republican Party by donating to 73 candidates for various state and national offices who are currently soliciting me for funds to continue their campaigns.
  3. Take advantage of the special discount being offered by several companies on photo-printed coffee cups, T-shirts, and aprons – and of course, photo books.
  4. The latest one-day-only Kindle book deal of the century! Just for me!
  5. Free shipping – for today only! – on lots of stuff that I don’t need, never wanted, and didn’t ask for.
  6. A 50 percent discount on New Yorker magazine. Ends very, very, very soon!
  7. Twenty-five percent off all personally designed birthday and thank you cards. Extended offer! This won’t last forever. Why are you hesitating? Surely you know somebody with a birthday coming up soon.
  8. Pay my New York Times subscription which has detected a problem with my current method of payment and even after some 30 years as a subscriber has no desire to cut me some slack.
  9. Take advantage of Kayak’s and Skyscanner’s alerts on the price of airplane tickets to Boston, Providence, San Diego, Sacramento, and Reno. Prices going up very soon! maybe in the next few hours! Don’t hesitate!
  10. The last chance to book car rentals at soon-to-go up prices for the just mentioned cities. 
  11. Last chance (again) to get a New Yorker subscription (which I already have) – save 86% on the cover price! (Lots of these. Lots and lots and lots. The equivalent of the inserts that tumble to the floor when you open a magazine.)
  12. An opportunity to get summer fun flexibility by booking a Lake Tahoe vacation rental NOW!
  13. Invitation to donate to Alex’s GoFundMe account. (Who is Alex? I don’t know.)
  14. PayPal has selected ME to apply for its exclusive credit program and they are giving me $40 off future purchases – if only I could.
  15. Last chance to get $50 off certain health and ancestry deals with 23andMe, now that they have a chunk of my DNA sample and personal data.
  16. Today only’s special 40 percent-off deals from Amazon. Is this a duplicate? Is this a repeat? It sounds sooooo familiar….
  17. Purchase the perfect bra from Natori.
  18. Use the limited-one-time-only special credit from Uber Eats.
  19. The last chance to have my gift matched at several non-profit fund-raisers.
  20. Migrate e-mails to a new cloudHQ email address.
  21. Save 20 percent on Rick Steves travel bags.
  22. A free trial on internet-based security cameras.
  23. Incredible deals, this week only, at La Comer supermarket.
  24. Starbucks: Become a member, win incredible prizes!
  25. Renew my now-discontinued Prime subscription. Only days left to do so.
  26. Watch the 88 best movies on Netflix — which will soon discontinue my subscription when my next monthly payment comes due if I don’t cough up some dough and replace my credit card with one that works.
  27. Only one day left to take advantage of the clearance program that will enable me to by-pass airport security lines and stick my nose up at the hoi-polloi.
  28. A chance to bring someone I love for free on Amtrak’s limited-time-only two-for-one hot summer deal. Seriously hot. As in, this is one hot summer and the AC on Amtrak sucks.
  29. Unlock Expedia’s rewards benefits.
  30. Win a custom-designed Airstream trailer and Ram 1500 truck from Omaze.

I also can not:

Pull pesos out of an ATM machine. 

Order a new book from Kindle.

Pay for a meal in a restaurant.

Buy a case of wine.

Load up on dwindling medications.

Get U.S. dollars when I fly to Boston today.

Pay for a hotel room.

Pay for the rental car I reserved a month ago

Pay for gas when I drive to Rhode Island.

On the other hand:

I can sit and read a book

I can write to people

I can call family on the phone and chat

I can sit in the courtyard and ask the birds how they managed before the Internet.

I can turn off, tune out, and drop out.

I can go for a long walk in the countryside.

I can sit in the Jardin and listen to Mariachi bands as the sun sets.

I can sit on the roof terrace and watch the sunset.

I can count the church bells and make sure they are keeping proper time.

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Colonia San Antonio, photography, San Miguel de Allende, Uncategorized, Writings

In the Garden

And I turned to you and I said No guru, no method, no teacher

Just you and I and nature And the father in the garden

–VAN MORRISON, “IN THE GARDEN”

So I sit here in the garden, in the early summer light

A cup of coffee grows cold beside me

In the stillness that morning brings, fleeting stillness

The workers next door have not yet stirred to break the silence

With their hammers and saws and boisterous shouts.

There is still room for the birds in the dense green

To sing their songs, perform their magic,

Find love among the branches.

I don’t know the geography of this garden by name,

Only by the heart, defined by what my eyes take in:

The delicate flowers, the flirty birds, the twisty vines,

The shaded coolness of the branches. So many voices

of green, vying for my attention. I know

Only that it is too beautiful for me to rise and exert my will

Where it is unwanted, unasked for, upon another day.

An empty bag awaits upstairs with a ticket to somewhere far

And I only know I don’t want to leave the garden.

I want to sit here in the peace, in the coolness,

Listening to the plants breathing ever so lightly

Parsing out their secrets ever so lightly

Unlocking a state of grace ever so lightly,

Grace I can not achieve no matter how hard I try.

Outside, mothers and fathers walk their children

Hand in hand to school as church bells chime,

A touch of grace all its own.

I see their shadows pass on frosted windows,

And I sit and listen to the plants.

And listen to the birds.

And listen to the silence.

And my coffee grows cold for I dare not move

I can not move,

I don’t want to move.

I want only to become one

With the stillness.

In the garden.

While there is still time.

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