Sunday, August 8, 2010

Evoking Fitzgerald

During the summer the old, thick walled, stone house gets rather warm and airless so I sleep on a folding bed outside the house under a mosquito net.  The net is protection against insects falling on me from the layers of canopy of Grape vine and Jasmine, Carob, Wild Olive, Bay, Plumbago and the ubiquitous Geranium  above and around me.  There are very few true Mosquitoes here - there is no standing water and it is generally too breezy for them - but there are around plenty of other, equally irritating flies, against the bites of which the net is also an insurance.
I normally wake at dawn when a rising orange glow begins to outline the mountains to the east dissipating the deep velvet blue of the night above them.  It is a spectacle that, each morning, evokes for me Edward Fitzgerald's lines from his first version of Omar Khayyham:
Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
 Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
 And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
 The Sult├ín's Turret in a Noose of Light.

This morning when I woke though, the sun had already risen a little above the mountains and was shining more or less horizontally onto me, giving my leaf canopy something of a stained glass effect which I would have liked to have captured in a photograph but I did not have my camera by me and the rising sun waits for no one; in no more than a few seconds the moment had, like all others, passed.

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