Sunday, May 25, 2003



Finally the right kind of cool sunny day comes along, so early in the morning I go up on the roof to do some roof spring cleaning, a lot of cedar debris, plus the view is great from there. Emerging from the skylight, I turn and walk right into a pearlescent heaven of snowbells (what a thoughtfully beautiful and observant name, like all the old names) and their perfume. The old Japanese snowbell (Styrax Japonicus) right behind the house is just now at the peak of its bloom, but it's so tall we don't notice from the windows; when walking beneath it we at last notice the falling blossoms and look up, but since it's growing amidst older oak and cedar most of its limbs are spread comfortably out over the roof where the sunlight is best, and where the slower oak and cedar can't go. So there I am, my face and shoulders immersed in the soft whitish blossoms mostly open like soft pale stars but some still looking like perfectly smooth oval ivory beads, at first I withdraw instinctively from this abrupt crowding but right away decide to stay like that for a while because what a wonderful accident, right up there in the tall tree blossoms like a bee could be, or a bird, or a wild tree animal. Up close and everywhere like this the blossoms are very different in their beautiful detail than when I look up at them from the ground way down there where they fall rather quickly. They're meant of course for bee close-ups and their perfume is very subtle, stays close in this yet cool air. Apparently there is some bee in me, that for some time doesn't even try to remember what the rest of me came up here for.

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