Evening StormBy Sharon DolinI want to paint the livingness of appearances.
— Marsden Hartley
What of these evening storms
where foam becomes rock—wave
becomes cove. Inside the billow as
you always dreamed it would be
two men collapse into being.
Like so, the rocks give up their
solid stance. If Hart threw
himself from ship to sea, how
can you, Hartley, hardly alive
in this solitude, not find his
eye inside of you. There is a crest
a recurring tall wave that comes
for you. So little light gets through
other than in sea foam your desire
knit to storm—here is your Maine mountain where the upsurge
the passional thrust gets through.
Monday involved a bunch of laundry and boring work interspersed with two Latios raids -- caught a shiny, plus found a shiny Buneary and random shiny Mareep, so that was fun! Plus I walked several miles thinking that it was the last day of Eggstravaganza double distance credits, only to find out that that's tomorrow, but it was a really gorgeous day so it was well worth it. I didn't do anything for Earth Day besides sign some petitions and admire a lot of flowers, so I owe the planet some more attention.
We watched Legends of Tomorrow
, which was touching as well as funny -- I need to catch up on the first two seasons this summer. Then we watched Sunday night's Billions
, which was neither touching nor funny and Wendy's behavior toward Taylor is confusing me. The Enemy Within
is confusing me even more and kind of aggravating me. In honor of that lovely Mareep, here are some of the sheep and lambs at Mount Vernon, moms and babies in the upper paddock, dads and non-breeders in the lower farm: