Friday, April 30, 2010
My train didn't get in till midnight last night. As the car was in the town lot rather than the train lot, I had to walk a mile to the west with my bags. A good part of that was in darkness, strange at first, scarier than I want to admit. I don't even see well when it's daytime; contact lenses can only do so much to correct minus eight vision. But once I gave over to it, the other senses concentrated: the clop of my shoes against concrete, three deer thrashing through a fence, through trees. They half-circled, which had the slightest hint of menace about it, gangsterish, thrilling, as if they knew they were up to no good. And, as if I'd become animal too, I counted off the smells as the night shut down: part grassy, part fecal, seeds, sprays, spices, moisture on leaves, even a whiff of something like oranges.
In the April 29, 2010 issue of the East Hampton Star. "Hearing Music in Sonic Scraps": An interview with yours truly by Joanne Pilgrim.
Above: First Presbyterian Church of Amagansett. That big white light is the moon.
Below: Bullfrog in the pond out back. Hello, Bullfrog.