The moon is nearly full and the garden at dawn is bright as a silver coin. I am thinking of you over in the northern hemisphere as the days lengthen and you are able to wake to light and anticipate longer evenings. This morning as I eat sweet papaya sliced with a squeeze of lemon and enquire about rentable accommodation here in the viallge I have been glancing at obituaries for the wonderful Howard Zinn and the elusive rebel adolescent author JD Salinger, both of whom died this week.
Salinger: That’s the whole trouble. You can’t ever find a place that’s nice and peaceful, because there isn’t any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you’re not looking, somebody’ll sneak up and write “F*** you” right under your nose.
And I do feel bloodyminded and despondent this morning but at least I am able to see those feelings as understandable, unhelpful and passing. This evening I must cook the duck that has been resting in the freezer for a few days and that is the kind of challenge that takes me out of myself. I shall do duck with an orange sauce if I can get oranges at this time of year. Otherwise it will be duck with honey and lemons. A green salad and roast potatoes in duck fat. If it looks promising I shall invite guests, if it looks as if it is going to be tough and greasy, Una and I will battle through it alone. I keep thinking of the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup.
“Our very first problem is to accept our present circumstances as they are, ourselves as we are, and the people about us as they are. This is to adopt a realistic humility without which no genuine advance can even begin.” — As Bill Sees It, p. 44