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Entry written at San Francisco airport, August 30, 10:05 am

Yesterday I walked to Peete’s Coffee Shop at College and Alcatraz in Berkeley hoping I could find somebody who could help me find the incoming email messages on my iPhone. Somehow, I was only able to activate the “Entire Mailbox” mode.  Some guy, very busy passing confidential messages on his cell phone, kindly took a moment to explain that all I had to do was to press the “Received” bar on the screen to reclassify all 4000 messages in my machine in chronological order.  I was so happy he did this.  First, I learned that one of my recent graduate students who had undergone open-heart surgery had now recovered enough to begin sending email messages again.  Second, I heard from Kimberly that she and Ingrid had “set” the program for the Dickinson Valentine’s recital.  In addition to the 12 songs by Copland and the 5 by Heggie, they would be singing three by Andre Pevin.  I can’t imagine anything more delightful to look forward to.

My visit with my aunt ended well.  We had a long talk in her enclosed garden after she had watered the plants.  I can’t get over the beauty of her roses and dahlias.  This morning the creamy yellow roses were again resplendent at least an hour before the morning sun touched them directly.  The morning light was cutting across the tops of two tall cypresses and flooding the stuccoed facade of a neighbor’s house above and beyond the garden.  The sharp light high above the orange dahlias rising tall through the loaded branches of Afton’s espaliered apple tree created a Florentine scene worthy of Cezanne’s geometries of space and light.  On to Phoenix in about an hour.  On the plane, free time to proof a little more of Emma Rose’s spreads for the Moby catalog.

Afton’s creamy yellow roses still in shade on morning of August 30

Afton’s creamy yellow roses still in shade on morning of August 30

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