Kandinsky

My garden looks like a Kandinsky painting, with the cosmos and the calendula, bright masses of yellow and pink backed by the neighbors sunflowers, and the sun low in the sky, shading the western part of the garden, brightening a mass of dahlias. A good book for a look at the lovely chaos of avant-garde color see Theme and Improvisation: Kandinsky and American Avant-Garde

A chaotic garden. Chaos, the theory is that it will make sense at some point, that things, be they objects, natural elements, feelings, will make sense at some point. Where is that point, a distant point in space perhaps? From space the patterns are obvious, in my bedroom, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the chaos inside, nothing is obvious, everything is a wind storm blowing away the last petals of a lifetime.

Ah, the plums, they hang like flesh, and the tomatoes, so plump and soon ripe. Ah, I'm so poetic this morning. More rested in my own bed. This is good and the cat, he's mad because I left him—although I have a cat sitter, but when she doesn't stay here at my place, he gets into mischief. He pulled things out of the closet and knocked over a plant and the lamp. Nothing damaged, but he was indignant when I asked him why he'd made such a mess. Such chaos. He said he was mad because I was gone for too long time. It was no longer than before, I argued, but he wouldn't listen.

This morning the grandbaby comes for the day. I haven't spent much time with him in awhile, so am excited to see the little dickens. He has food intolerances and is being tested this week for wheat, oats and eggs. They want him off eggs for now and he can't have lactose. He has more allergies than I have. Another reason to eat well from the garden. Eat good food, stay away from sugar and white flour. Everyone knows that. During the war when they rationed sugar and they couldn't afford to bleach the flour, everyone grew healthier. Huh! It didn't stick.

Okay, happy day and happy garden and don't worry about the chaos.
Flower