Friday, August 29, 2014
Time and Tiramisu
As I stepped outside to take a few photographs last evening, I could hear music coming from down the road, an early start to the Labor Day weekend no doubt. I walked around the crab apple tree taking photos - various configurations of fallen apples in the still green grass of late summer - listening to, "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?" I thought of my friend, Amy, who passed in the winter of 2005. I remembered her telling me how much she liked the song as it played in the background at the Tesuque Village Market one Sunday afternoon. We would sometimes go there for lunch and a piece of their sinfully delicious tiramisu. Listening to it play in the distance brought a softly surreal feeling to the evening, an expansive sense of timelessness. As the last notes played, I walked back to the cabin and took a few photographs of black-eyed susans and birdsfoot trefoil growing in the grass behind the cabin, none of which turned out very well. It doesn't matter. It wasn't about the photographs.
The photograph is mine, taken several days earlier, before they fully ripened ...