Red Moon

Last night's moon made me think of a favorite poem by Garcia Lorca. . . sorry I can't manage the diacritical marks for the Spanish.

Cancion de Jinete

Song of the Rider

Cordoba. Lejana y sola.

Cordona. Far and alone.

Jaca negra, luna grande,

Black pony, big moon,

Y aceitunas en mi alforja.

and olives in my saddlebag.

Aunque sepa los caminos

Although I know the roads

yo nunca llegare a Cordoba.

I will never get to Cordoba.

Por el llano, por el viento,

Through the wind, across the plain,

jaca negra, luna roja.

black pony, red moon.

La muerte me esta mirando

Death is looking at me

desde las torres de Cordoba.

from the towers of Cordoba.

Ay que camino tan largo!

Oh, how long the road!

Ay me jaca valerosa!

Oh, my brave pony!

Ay, que la muerte me espera,

Oh, for death awaits me,

antes de llegar a Cordoba!

before I get to Cordoba!

Cordoba. Lejana y sola.

Cordoba. Far and alone.

Verde Que Te Quiero Verde

Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar
y el caballo en la montaña.

(Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The boat on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.)

Those are the opening lines of the Spanish poet Garcia Lorca's Romance Sonambulo. I studied Lorca in Spanish classes in college (Emory, Atlanta, Georgia, spring of '61, to be precise) and still remember these lines -- they bubble up from my subconsciousness at this beautiful green time of year, when the foliage forms tapestries all around me.

Green's a blessing, a promise of life and growth and abundance. Nature's neutral, it sets off blues and purples, reds, yellows and oranges to perfection. Green rests the eyes and calms the mind,
quiets the noise and refreshes the soul. Thank goodness for green.

Here's another web album. It's what's happening at the end of June in the garden