Vernal Equinox 2011

In the latest interim, I finally joined Facebook. The ostensible purpose was to market my books, and I had hoped to use the FB forum to direct people to my website. Not knowing what I was doing while attempting to organize people into categories of high school class, friends and pagans, I created Groups for each of these (rather than as Lists I learned later). Apparently, Groups cannot be dissolved. I asked those on the Pagan Group to remove themselves, which seems to be a possibility, but then several expressed their feeling that they were happy with my mistake, and so we seem to be going forward with it. The Group is over sixty now. Beyond this, while initially I think Facebook has occupied a lot of my time, I am beginning to see that it need not be overwhelming but can be something comfortably managed. Then, too, I find that I am now ‘Friends’ with my children, and that has been a surprising bonus.

Our guest-free hiatus has continued since it began with the beginning of February and has been conducive to a fair amount of writing and desk work, though I have yet to bottle the olive oil, clean the windows, varnish the shutters and window/door frames, refinish a couple of our tables, plant the poinsettia, fix the lamp on the whisky shelf, or repair the grenier door so that it stays closed. The weather could be conducive to such projects as it continues to mellow into the feel of spring. While the nights can still drop close to freezing, the days are soft and pregnant with vernal scent. We did have a nearly week-long storm with rain and winds in every direction – making it impossible to maintain a fire in the goudin without smoking ourselves out. But we also increasingly have been having brunch outside in the sun.

Our Liberalia celebrations were most enjoyable, and the weather was lovely. We had our commencing coffees in town and latter enjoyed the blanket of flowers and burgeoning life through the property. I came to see the sparkling white daisies as each representing a departed loved one and how they concentrated just next to the front terrace as if they wanted to be as physically close to us as possible. It was a poignantly moving moment. And Wilko was thrilled this time to see us (he had been depressed on the previous occasion), ran to us and followed along the stretch of road that passes by his fenced-in property.

The most horrifying event has been, of course, the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. An incredible magnitude that remains almost impossible to comprehend. The subsequent nuclear reactor disasters that followed in the course of the devastation has made me more cognizant than previously of how, once again, we humans of the earth have been hijacked by mismanagement and corporate greed. I did find Martin Palmer’s interview on Radio 4’s “Sunday” programme enlightening concerning the Shinto-based attitude in Japan that nature’s havoc is not interpreted as a punishment as it more likely would be in the West but just how nature is. The arrogance of the nuclear industry, however, that he also explained for its ignoring traditional Shinto protest and understandings of the geography and the presences inherent in locality and insisting instead to construct their reactor plants in places that were obvious unsafe by Shinto cognizance further underscored the disjointedness of our times.

On a more positive note, we attended an ex-pat ‘literary luncheon’ in Villecroze – sitting with David and Margerite and enjoying a talk by writer Jonathon Brown on his friendship with David Hockney. Jonathon’s book is I Don’t Know Much About Art, But I Do Know David Hockney. Richard bought a copy and has enjoyed reading it immensely. The gathering at the Hotel Les Esparrus took us out of our more normal and usual routine – providing a welcomed break.

Beyond our immediate orbit, dear Toni is having to have a procedure. And dear Shirley in London, our neighbour, has developed a wicked shingles infection that has rendered her bedridden and unable to walk. It has gone into her eye. Peter sounded uncharacteristically down when we talked on the phone, and all I could think to do was have a bottle of single malt sent to him. I remain grateful at least for our age of electronic communication that allows us to stay in touch with so many and across such vast distances. And while I was listening to Fauré’s Requiem, I learned through a notification from the online Los Angeles Times that Elizabeth Taylor had died that morning. That news saddened me more than I had expected it would. I stood virtually next to her once at the Lincoln Center before a performance of The King and I. As Richard put it, “She was ours.”

Peter phoned from London to thank me for the malt. I talked too to Shirley who is progressing. On the home front, Richard has developed a collar bone and shoulder pain after digging about three weeks ago. It has not improved and in some ways has gotten worse. After seeking medical advice, it seems to be an articulation entre les clavicule et le sternum. He now has a ten-day regimen of anti-inflammatory pills.

For the rest, and while the weather oscillates between the most gorgeous of Mediterranean climates and something more inclement and alpine with haunting mists over the Montagne des Espiguières, the month of March nears its end, and the green gage trees are suddenly bursting into bloom. With Penny and Hamish we went to the Soirée Jazz at the Hotel Callalou. Good food and nice music. The days are always full, and the evenings never long enough. On our last visit to Aix, we saw the film Winter’s Bone. It was about as heavy as cinema can be, but it is an excellently crafted movie featuring powerful and fascinating women. The acting was terrific. And scarcely had we got back home when Renaud arrived with some of the most delicious fresh goat cheese I have yet had. We opened some of the single malts we had brought back from Aix and had a liquid evening at best. But all in all, spring is now here, and it is wonderful.