My little garden

The corn, which I planted in a burst of optimism, is doing better than anything else I planted. You can't see them because they have just emerged, but there are sugar peas planted at the base of each corn stalk. Kale seedlings - all volunteers - are coming up everywhere.


As you can see it is a gray, gray July 4th here in Seattle, with little hope of the clouds parting. Nonetheless, a barbeque is planned at the Golden/Garcia/Snyder compound this evening.

Green beans, cherry tomatoes, oakleaf lettuce, watermelon and a canteloupe.

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As I work on the new Tuning the Air press kit, it is a struggle of what to say - how to describe this amazing project. And not raise expectations. Not that they can't be met, but that to have them will inhibit listening. I came across this in Oliver Sack's Musicophilia this morning:

The power of music, whether joyous or cathartic, must steal on one unawares, come spontaneously as a blessing or grace... ("The Arts are not drugs," E. M. Forster once wrote. "They are not guaranteed to act when taken. Something as mysterious and capricious as the creative impulse has to be released before they can act.")