Rain in Carmel. Just north of us the flooding has been horrendous. We have been lucky our berm has held. We went for four days without power. All this meant for me was I kept going to bed so early that I started waking up in the middle of the night. I found ways of milking juice out of my phone, so I listened to most of Emily Wilsons translation of the Odyssey. (he’s made it Home but now the pesky suitors!) I love this translation right from the begining. “Sing to me of a complicated man.” Plus I enjoy how she changes up all the mentions of the “Rosy fingers of dawn on the wine dark sea.”

The lack of power, the food rotting in the freezer and the stinky clothes in our hampers, suggested a trip. So we packed the car quickly and in the dark and took off. We went to see the wild flowers in Anza Borrego State Park. Just arrived after an eight hour drive. Dot came along of course and she has been a real trooper all the way.

I will have more details on the desert next week.

Today I just want to post a few photos of what light can do on one cottonwood tree and a vase of flowers sitting on our kitchen table.

Light…

is mood and meaning;

the plot and atmosphere.

There is no story

without it. .

Herre is an old poem that I wrote back when I was doing cases. I wrote it in a hotel room in Wrangell one weekend in a hard southeastern storm. I wrote it the day after I learned that the great poet Jack Gilbert died. It’s called. “I’m Tired of Poets Telling Me What God Wants.”