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Long day…
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While reading Annie Dillard, I wondered if she and Fred Buechner ever hung out. What a mystical/concrete pair. Some Googling might come up with the facts. But, it seems more respectful to both of them to let the possibility hang without a definite answer.
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What explains my not having read Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek SOMETIME in the 50 years since it was published?! Nevermind. I’m fixing that now, and am blown away.
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Coreopsis doing their thing; purple salvia spikes in the background.
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Nicolas de Staël, 1954
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BOSWELL. Sir Alexander Dick tells me, that he remembers having a thousand people in a year to dine at his house ...
JOHNSON. That, Sir, is about three a day.
BOSWELL. How your statement lessens the idea.
JOHNSON. That, Sir, is the good of counting. It brings every thing to a certainty, which before floated in the mind indefinitely.
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Eight years since my dad died. It’s so great when he’s in one of my dreams.
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.More sweet life.
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🌱
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What a delightful breakfast spot!
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