Armchair Gardener

A few weeks ago, I needed the script of Arthur Miller's The Crucible in a hurry, and when I drew a blank in the bookshops, I went looking for it online. Web-savvy friends pointed me in the right direction, and I found what I needed, but along the way I came across a recorded performance at Audible.com, a subsidiary of Amazon. I wasn't sure I'd actually use a subscription, but I went for the free trial download anyway! It was an L.A. Theatre Works production, and very good.

I decided to take out a subscription. I like something interesting to listen to when I'm knitting. I'm a fan of online BBC radio, and TED Talks, but at Audible there are readings of unabridged novels and non-fiction, as well as performed narratives and dramatisations of plays - and I can hear samples before I buy.

So today, I've been listening (again) to my February selection, a performed narrative of Paul Fleischman's novel Seedfolks. It's so good - and so well done! And on this dull, cold still-winter day, with the one visible tree between autumn berries and spring buds,

and even my sunshine puddies struggling for the energy to nod at me,

(We preserve the happy fiction that I actually bought them for my husband....) I've been listening to this story of a community garden, and doing Jigzone puzzles of growing things. No aubergines, unfortunately. I think the aubergine is one of the most beautiful things the earth produces.

Incidentally, Paul's name caught my eye because I read Sid Fleischman's books when I was growing up. Chancy and the Grand Rascal, and Djingo Django were titles that shouted from the library shelves! Father and son. Marvellous.

.e

pencils

Sunday in the JigZone

For me, part of the appeal of jigsaws - especially online - is the detail. As I find and place pieces, I see things that I would otherwise miss. Today, I did Van Gogh's View of Arles with Irises.


It doesn't look much like this, but as I was going along, I saw how he'd mixed green into the blue of the sky, how the lower blue/green/purple band of irises is a mass of splayed spikes, and how the red roof detail smacks you in the eye but still feels distant, back there among the dark trees.

Once I'd put the last piece in place, I saw how the pell-mell irises give way to the denser green-gold grass verge, and how the edge of the corn grows taller, throwing shadow on the shorter grass. The trees and red roof were revealed as a treelined road between this field and the next, with the outskirts of Arles beyond.

I'm sure I've seen this print umpteen times in art books and print shops; only, this is the first time I've actually seen it.

I clicked the link to Art.com for a better view. The link doesn't actually work, but the URL plus Arles took me here. Some of these prints are too familiar - but others I've never seen before, and get me past the potted biography and unexamined opinion of Van Gogh that I carry in my head, to see - the paintings.

What a treat. Art reveals Life. Jigsaw reveals Art!













Feast your eyes, then close them - on a summer field, the air thick and warm with the buzz of invisible bees and the faint caw of rooks away over there in the trees. The sun is hot on your back, the dry dirt road crunches under your feet, and when you get to Arles, you are going to sit in the cool darkness of a cafe, with a long cold drink.

Not bad for late November, when the wind's throwing itself against the windows and it's 3C outside.................. Thanks, Vincent.

Stone, Bronze and Gold

This is pretty.

I like the water effect, and the deceptive simplicity of thestyle, and the way the background tiling swirls.
I've always liked the idea of mosaic floors, the artistry and attention to detail. No wonder I like jigsaw puzzles. We saw wonderful mosaics in Jordan, lovingly restored. I always assumed that the tiles were pot, glazed and fired. In Jordan we saw that they were cut stone, using all the colours of the local stone: black, beige, green, plum, pink - such variety.

They have entire mosaic floors laid out at the Museo Arqueológico de Madrid. We spent an hour and a half there on Sunday afternoon. There's a large octagonal or hexagonal one mounted on a wall. There was only time for a first look as we walked through, looking for the Etruscan exhibition, but I look forward to going back again. They have a fine collection of Roman vases and household objects that summon up an idea of daily life back then. And theatre too.

I did enjoy the Etruscan exhibition. I didn't know that they were from what is now Tuscany, only that they were 'The Etruscans' and that I liked their stonework. Habibi took photos, but I don't know how well they've come out. The funerary urns, carved stone chests, each with a reclining figures on the lid, puzzled me: each stone figure held a carved stone bowl with a lid. What did the bowl signify? I shall try to find out. The other puzzle was all the fibulas. These weren't bones, but decorative pins - brooches named for the bone they resembled? No fibulas in our concise (i.e. big) Spanish dictionary. Hmm.

Blonde stone; matt glazed pots; silver necklaces; bronze pots, and helmets, daggers and jewellery. And gold. I think gold is pretty, but I had always understood that its appeal lay as much in its incorruptibility as in any other quality. No rust, verdigris or tarnish - precious indeed! On Sunday, after an hour of fine stonework, and various metal objects in varying degrees of preservation, all handsome, many of them skilfully decorated, I came to a slim gold necklace, and a tiara fashioned like a hero's laurel, with life-size gold leaves - the bright yellow gold I associate with Asia and the Middle East, not the paler European kind. For elegance, style, artistry - almost everything, in fact - I preferred the stone and bronze. But for sheer knockout Etruscan bling - the gold was astonishing. In a time of oil lamps, braziers and flaming torches, gold must have been as desirable as diamonds today.

Gotta go. Yesterday we had hailstone and rain. Last night was unbelievably cold, compared with a week ago. Right now, it's absolutely throwing it down with rain, so thank goodness I only have to scoot between Metro stations.

Gecko

I do like JigZone.