Port Orange, Florida 2.7.06 and 3.1.07: Light and Dark, Constantly and Everywhere.

A tree in the back garden—kind?—of which I can see only the trunk from inside or from the back porch. It’s ornamented with the thick tendrils of an old vine that someone must have killed to save the tree’s life. The vine, running like a gray stream up the trunk, is beautiful.

There are two trunks flowing together. All is flow actually—vine and tree.

And somehow emblematic of my life, so that the trunks of the tree draw my attention. They catch every shaft of the sunlight that is so fierce here on non-rainy days. . . .

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The banana tree blown over by the Christmas day storm: Steve had laid it across the bottom of the trees already there. They now look like a tired old lady who, at the end of a long day, has rolled her stockings down to her ankles, as she sinks into an easy chair to rest.

Sun coming up through a gap in the trees to the southeast. The high palmetto and dark pine catch its light and obscure it. The oak tree, festooned by vines, is set afire by light.

This life: the interplay of light and dark, constantly and everywhere.