Poem for Friday, Richmond Orchids, Bones

From 'Lanting Xu (Preface of the Orchid Pavilion)'
By Wang Xizhi
Translated by TC Lai, Monica Lai, and Liu Yi Ru

Overlooking us are lofty mountains and steep peaks.
Around us are dense wood and slender bamboos, as well as limpid swift stream flowing around which reflected the sunlight as it flowed past either side of the pavilion.
Taking advantage of this, we sit by the stream drinking from wine cups which float gently on the water.

Despite of the absence of the grandeur of musical accompaniment, drinking wine and chanting poems give us delight and allow us to exchange our deep feelings.

As for this day, the sky is bright, the air is fresh and the breeze is mild and bracing.

Looking up, we admire the beauty of the sky and wonder at the immensity of the universe.
Looking around us, we see the myriad variety and wonder at their extraordinary diversity.

Stretching our sights and freeing our minds, we can stretch the pleasures of our senses (of sight and sound) to the limit.

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While my friends in the north were waiting for their power to come back on and their lawns to be cleared, I got to see some spring on Thursday! There are now plum blossoms in the park along with the crocuses and snowdrops, and there are a couple of lawns on my street with blooming daffodils, though ours are still tightly curled yellow-tipped buds. Maddy returned from California, though I barely saw her -- she dropped off her things, showered, and went out with friends. As a reminder that spring is coming, here are orchids at Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden in Richmond from last March:















We spent the evening watching the final three episodes of Bones, which I am quite sad to have finished, as it remained enjoyable through its entire 12-season run, and very glad I watched the era of binge-watching, since I have no idea whether I'd have felt it jumped the shark at various points if I didn't know it ended well. Favorite lines from the last episodes included the discussion of writing a dissertation on the effects of gamma transformation on the Hulk's bones and Booth's declaring, "We're way better than Mulder and Scully"...to which Brennan responded, "I don't know what that means."

Poem for Tuesday and Saraceno Sculpture

Never
By Chase Twichell

The clouds' disintegrating script
spells out the word squander.

Tree shadows lie down in the field.
Clipped to a grass blade’s underside,

a crisp green grasshopper
weighs down the tip,

swaying between birth and death.
I'll think of him as we clink

glasses with the guests,
eating olives as the sun goes down.

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Cheryl stayed after the Oscars so we could see The Shape of Water together, which we did, and it is a glorious film, beautifully imagined and allegorical without being heavy-handed about magic and monsters (I had read several debates about what it says about differently-abled people, and felt that it was more concerned with pointing out that we can't choose our abilities and can't always control our positions in life but we can choose who we love, how we treat people, and what we dream is possible). She had not seen Get Out, so we watched that too; it's a movie that only gets better on repeated viewings, which is a test of greatness that it passes with flying colors.

We had Elevation Burgers for lunch and took a walk to see bunnies (two spotted) before Cheryl had to go home. Paul and I watched two final season Bones episodes (awww Max). From the Baltimore Museum of Art on Sunday, here are the exhibits from Entangled Orbits by Tomás Saraceno, including "Flying Garden/Air Port City" using transparent film, iridescent foil, webbing, and rope to make a sphere that covers an entire gallery; "Zonal Harmonic" using rope, thread, and fishing line to create astronomical images; "Hybrid solitary semi social" preserving three different types of spider web structures; and the titular exhibit covering the East Lobby with iridescent clouds.

Poem for Friday and Squirrel Stand-off

Ume
By Ki Tomonori

Let’s get the scent of plum blossoms
to be carried with the messenger of the breeze
so it may be a guide
that lures bush warblers out of the valley.

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I tried to get work done in the morning, but I met up with friends and brought hamantaschen for what was supposed to be a brief Purim visit that turned into two hours of walking in the park. It was a beautiful day, drizzly but not cold, with Japanese plum and apricot trees coming into bloom, and we all wound up getting bagels before going our separate ways.

My afternoon was more chore-related, but that was fine, and in the evening we watched some final season Bones after an episode of Mysteries at the Museum because the VMFA was featured in it. Here are photos of the other exciting thing that happened today, though certain people who live here found it extremely upsetting and made a lot of noise about it:

Poem for Thursday, The Post, X-Files, Spring Flowers

The feet of people walking home
By Emily Dickinson

The feet of people walking home
With gayer sandals go--
The Crocus--till she rises
The Vassal of the Snow--
The lips at Hallelujah
Long years of practise bore
Till bye and bye these Bargemen
Walked singing on the shore.

Pearls are the Diver's farthings
Extorted from the sea--
Pinions--the Seraph's wagon
Pedestrian once--as we--
Night is the morning's Canvas
Larceny--legacy--
Death, but our rapt attention
To Immortality.

My figures fail to tel me
How far the Village lies--
Whose peasants are the Angels--
Whose Cantons dot the skies--
My Classics veil their faces--
My faith that Dark adores--
Which from its solemn abbeys
Such resurrection pours.

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I got to see Cheryl on a Wednesday, which I believe is a first in the decade and a half that I've known her -- Wednesday is new comic day and she always had to work until this month. We had Mirch Masala at the mall and went to see The Post, which I had seen before but she had not; it's still excellent, oddly overlooked so far this awards season given the oddly excessive hype for other films though it's pretty traditional in structure, so much so that we came back to my house afterward and watched the obvious sequel, All the President's Men, which remains the gold standard for journalism movies and remains terrific to this day.

After Cheryl went home, Paul and I watched this week's X-Files, which is hilarious, somewhat distressing, gloriously well acted and beautifully directed -- really, except for that first episode, the entire season has been wonderful -- and this week's Designated Survivor, which is didactic, clumsily scripted, frustratingly predictable, and worth watching only for a couple of actors. In between we watched a Bones episode with totally forgettable forensics but fun storylines about Brennan's surprise party, Angela's Genius Grant, and Daisy's NFL job. Here are some of the local crocuses and daffodils, plus a squirrel enjoying the weather:

Poem for Wednesday and Lunar New Year Festivities

Crocus
By Alfred Kreymborg

When trees have lost remembrance of the leaves
that spring bequeaths to summer, autumn weaves
and loosens mournfully — this dirge, to whom
does it belong — who treads the hidden loom?

When peaks are overwhelmed with snow and ice,
and clouds with crepe bedeck and shroud the skies —
nor any sun or moon or star, it seems,
can wedge a path of light through such black dreams —

All motion cold, and dead all traces thereof:
What sudden shock below, or spark above,
starts torrents raging down till rivers surge —
that aid the first small crocus to emerge?

The earth will turn and spin and fairly soar,
that couldn’t move a tortoise-foot before —
and planets permeate the atmosphere
till misery depart and mystery clear! —

And yet, so insignificant a hearse? —
who gave it the endurance so to brave
such elements? — shove winter down a grave? —
and then lead on again the universe?

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It was nearly 60 degrees on Tuesday so of course I took a long walk in the park! There are crocuses all over the sunny hillside, snowdrops around the train station, and daffodil shoots coming up all over the place, though I've only seen a few actual flowers. Maddy is on her way to California -- a friend's parents got her tickets for the friend's birthday -- and she had work-related meetings in the afternoon, so I will not see her for a week.

The Flash and Black Lightning were back, and the former wasn't even too bad though I'm so tired of the DeVoe storyline (I keep wanting to write DeVos, like the Secretary of "Education"), but the latter is the best thing on network TV now and its women absolutely rock. And we're finally up to the final season of Bones! Before February ends, here are a few more photos from the Year of the Dog celebrations in Gaithersburg with the governor:

Poem for Tuesday and Maymont Valentines

Late Night Ode
By J. D. McClatchy

HORACE IV. i

It's over, love. Look at me pushing fifty now,
    Hair like grave-grass growing in both ears,
The piles and boggy prostate, the crooked penis,
    The sour taste of each day's first lie,

And that recurrent dream of years ago pulling
    A swaying bead-chain of moonlight,
Of slipping between the cool sheets of dark
    Along a body like my own, but blameless.

What good's my cut-glass conversation now,
    Now I'm so effortlessly vulgar and sad?
You get from life what you can shake from it?
    For me, it's g and t's all day and CNN.

Try the blond boychick lawyer, entry level
    At eighty grand, who pouts about overtime,
Keeps Evian and a beeper in his locker at the gym,
    And hash in tinfoil under the office fern.

There's your hound from heaven, with buccaneer
    Curls and perfumed war-paint on his nipples.
His answering machine always has room for one more
    Slurred, embarrassed call from you-know-who.

Some nights I've laughed so hard the tears
    Won't stop. Look at me now. Why now?
I long ago gave up pretending to believe
    Anyone's memory will give as good as it gets.

So why these stubborn tears? And why do I dream
    Almost every night of holding you again,
Or at least of diving after you, my long-gone,
    Through the bruised unbalanced waves?

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My Monday was mostly about thrilling things like writing an article and laundry, though the weather was too nice to be indoors all day, so I went to Cabin John Park and did two Rayquaza raids before all of the Pokemon Day Pikachu started appearing in their little birthday hats. There are crocuses in the park and daffodils in my neighborhood, and snowdrops both places, so I am going to believe spring is ahead of the groundhog's schedule!

We thought we missed an episode of Black Lightning during the Olympics, but when we went looking, we couldn't find one (FIOS wanted money for the most recent one, which was free on Roku, both in both cases we'd seen the episode). So we watched the last three episodes of the penultimate season of Bones, which did not end with a good episode to think about before bedtime! Here are some photos of Maymont in Richmond decorated for Valentine's Day:

Poem for Tuesday and Brookside Flowers

Thaw
By Edward Thomas

Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed
And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flowers of grass,
What we below could not see, Winter pass.

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Just spent the evening fighting with a stupid computer thing, I have very little to report from my day anyway (boring work stuff, laundry, Maddy worked from late morning and is staying at a friend's so I hardly saw her, watched Supergirl which is starting to make me think they're planning to kill off Sam/Reign and hand Ruby off to Alex so she has insta-child and that will very likely be a dealbreaker for me if it happens because whether it's for a man or woman to raise, killing off a woman so someone else gets to have a kid makes me furious, then watched some Bones which was less enervating despite dead bodies). Have some flowers from the Brookside Gardens conservatory on Saturday!