what is pi anyway?

a line is not nearly as pleasing as a circle. but a straight line is easy to make. and a circle, especially a perfect circle, is quite difficult. additionally, imperfect circles leave us feeling anxious. so, we make our man-made world with straight lines–straight walls, straight doors, rectangular windows, rectangular rooms–boxes within boxes within boxes, and straight highways leading to straight streets and right angle turns to get to them. in part i assume it’s because america was able to lay grids across huge swaths of territory by the time much of the western world had already gathered into cities and villages shaped like spiderwebs. i’ve never understood why so many european villages are shaped like that. although if you think about it, if you asked 50 people to set up camp in an open field. they would not lay out grid lines and set up their tents in rows. they would informally arrange themselves based on a sense of personal space, and probably end up, in the end, forming a loose circle. maybe it’s what happens when humans decide how to live among each other, instead of engineers.

wreath of dried gingko leaves

ruffled

the colors on these parrot tulips look painted on. they had me at “polly wants.”

parrot king tulips 

liminal

i feel a though i am hovering in a liminal space between southern france and minnesota. neither here nor there. i don’t dislike the feeling. and i am rather curious how long i can make it last. i have this feeling that this is a precious state and somehow important. that there is wisdom to be gained here. but that the message, if i am sensitive enough to receive it, will be very subtle. i am trying hard to be still and listen. but america is a noisy place, and i am finding it hard to carve out the necessary quiet. i feel it slipping from my grasp a little bit every day. if i could only listen harder.

dried lily of the valley

more gifts from sally

our recent housesitter, sally, whose virtues i sang in a post a couple of days ago, also left behind this little garland of dried oranges and tangerines. she had used them as christmas decorations, and all i can think is how much i love people who bring beauty into their lives in big ways and small, who care enough to push back against so much that is not beautiful in modern life, and create little oases of splendor. thank you once more sally for all that you did, and all that you are.

dried orange slices

planning ahead

right before we left for france, i installed a couple of wooden peg racks on the wall of our guest bedroom, and hung a dozen or so handfuls of summer stems from them to dry. i was not thinking at the time about returning to minnesota in january and having to find STILL blog subjects with another two months of snow cover ahead of me. i wasn’t that farsighted. but i am thanking myself today for my unintentional foresight, and for these evocative anthurium leaves. coming across them on the wall this morning was like finding a twenty-dollar bill in an old coat pocket.

dried anthurium leaves