Rain: Another Two Inches (April 2, 2014)

Heavy rain yesterday and the day before has added another two inches to our total for the 2013-2014 rain year.  Our total now stands at 21.25 inches. That is still low relative to an average year, when we would have had well over 30 inches by now (32.62 inches is the average for April 1), but I'm beginning to feel like the upcoming summer won't be as dire as it looked like it might be earlier in the season. Oddly, the one Santa Rosa weather station I monitor online (and use for the average rainfall data I report here) is showing only 16.45 inches--a large discrepancy. Normally our numbers are very close. Perhaps the rain this year has been more localized than usual?

[Update: Another 0.50 inches overnight on the 3rd and on the 4th brought the total to 21.75 inches.]

Words I'm Writing: A Poem (April 1, 2014)

I generally don't like reading poetry. Too often it's cryptic. Too often it's self-indulgent--little more than an author's in-joke--deliberately obfuscatory, or simply obscure, but that doesn't keep me from once in a while perpetrating the same.

Pearl

A pearl

Is what an oyster conjures—

A sheath of smooth, bright nacre

Over sand that wounds

But what oyster

On what wave-lashed rock

Is ever asked to form a pearl

Not over jagged sand

But to fend against

What is keenly longed for—not once in a lifetime but twice—

To shut away the selfsame haunting grain? 

I began this more than five years ago. I came across it today by chance and changed a few words that finally made it seem finished. Virtually no one will understand it, but I imagine poems are somewhat easier to decipher than visual art, which I fairly regularly create while feeling no need to explain. So, here is a poem: Make of it what you will.

Birds I'm Watching: Odd Bushtit Behavior (March 31, 2014)

Spent the day indoors today (March 31, 2014) because of the rain, but I didn't have to go out to do some bird watching. The birds came to me--one bird, anyway--a female Bushtit that spent several hours flitting back and forth through the dense plant growth near one of my living room windows. I watched the bird on and off for quite some time. No sign of nesting material, but it was clearly occupied doing something--and alone, not in a flock. She pecked at the window repeatedly and for no apparent reason, making a circuit of a fixed number of perches near the glass over and over again. She was loud enough that I could hear her from upstairs. I'm wondering if she's looking for a nesting site? I got some good close-up photos of her. I wonder what she was up to? Perhaps just pecking at her reflected rival in the glass....

For more about birds and birding in Sonoma County, see my Website: Sonoma County Bird Watching Spots. 

Rain: Getting There…. (March 31, 2014)

The past week has been a busy one, mostly stuck at the computer working. It's been a good thing to hear rain outside my office window for much of that week. It's rained off and on and there is more rain in the forecast for the next few days. We need all we can get. I've recorded another 2.0 inches at my house since last reporting.  That brings the 2013-2014 rain total at this location to 19.25 inches--still well below normal, but we're getting there. And more rain is on the way.

Art I'm Making: Untitled Collage No. 33 (Santa Rosa)--March 23, 2014

A new abstract collage in indigo and peachy tones. This one ended up divided into two zones. It looks like a cut-away view of a piece of land with a blue chthonic zone below and something ethereal above. That was not intended and not important really. I just liked the colors and the textures of the acrylic mono-printed and painted paper elements I used. The image is 11cm x 14.5cm. Click on the picture for a larger view. For more, use the "Art I'm Making" tab at right.

Places I'm Visiting: Lake Tahoe (March 23, 2014)

Sunny and warm is not usually the sort of weather I associate with skiing, but I spent a pleasant two days at Lake Tahoe this past weekend on the slopes in beautiful weather. It was just cold enough at the higher elevations that strenuous skiing was comfortable. It was the first time I've been on skis in a couple of years. The snow was sparse, but more than adequate. The sun on the snow-powdered mountain tops was beautiful under fluffy clouds. On the slopes, the conditions were much better than I expected, actually, but everything remains outrageously overpriced.

Wines I'm Drinking: Four Torrontés Wines from Argentina

I've been aware of wines made from the Torrontés grape (grown mostly in Argentina) for some time, but I've tasted a number of particularly good ones lately, and my appreciation of this grape continues to grow. It's origins are thought to be in Galicia, in the northwest of Spain, where it's still cultivated in Ribeira (although an alternative theory says Torrontés vines were bred from seeds of Muscat of Alexandria brought to Argentina from Spain). Outside of Galicia, Torrontés is cultivated in Alicante and Yecla (both east of La Mancha, in central Spain). The grape is grown in small quantities in Chile (notably in the Pisco region, where it's called Torontel or Torontel Verdil) and also in Uruguay, but most and the best examples seem to come from northern Argentina. There are three varieties--Torrontés Riojana (named for the La Rioja region), Torrontés San Juanino (from the San Juan region), and Torrontés Mendocino (from Mendoza). This last is said to be rare and lacking the distinctive fragrance notable particularly in Torrontés Riojana. According to Hugh Johnson, Torrontés Riojana makes the finest wines, particularly in the high-altitude vineyards of Salta province. At their best, Torrontés wines combine a rich, slightly exotic fruitiness with crisp acidity--often reminiscent of the Albariño wines of Rias Baixas. They can be quite heady, like Viognier, while having the crispness of a good Sauvignon Blanc.

Torrontés clearly makes excellent wine when carefully handled. Often Torrontés wines are a bargain. Retail prices of the wines I tasted range from about $8 to $20, although I purchased all four at my local Grocery Outlet for $3.99-$5.99 a bottle--examples from recent vintages (2010 and 2011) from a number of different parts of Argentina. I tasted the wines blind. Brief tasting notes follow.

2010 Cas'Almare Mendoza Torrontés
This was the palest of the four wines I tasted--a very pale gold. Bright and attractive in the glass. Floral notes on the nose. Oak scents. Pear blossom. Hawthorne. Something sappy, but also with the kind of petroleum scents often associated with a good German Riesling. Overall, a nice perfumed quality to the nose. White peach. Subtle hints of muscat. Very attractive. Nicely balanced on the palate. Rich, fruity sweetness followed by a rush of good balancing acidity. Good "dance" of fruit and acid on the mid-palate. Nice, lingering, slightly tart finish. Has a little tannic bite to it. Interesting hint of bitterness on the very end. Really enjoyed this one. After tasting all four wines, I felt the Cas'Almare wine was distinctly a cut above the others, but I liked them all.

2010 Medrano Estate Torrontés
Medium Gold. Considerably more deeply colored than the Cas'Almare wine, although the Alberti 154 wine was a little deeper in color. Scents of honey and wood predominant on the nose, but with floral hints. Sandalwood perhaps? Somewhat more exotic florals than the first wine. Citrus hints, too. Later there was something that put me in mind of stewed tomatoes, which was not as odd as that may sound. On the palate, a little lighter in body than the first wine, but with an attractive, delicate richness. Lower in acid and therefore not as bright as the Cas'Almare wine, but nicely balanced. Moderate to good length. Something woody on the finish. Hard to describe, but nuanced and tasty. My second favorite of the bunch.

2011 Munay Cafayate Salta Torrontés
Pale straw color, but not as pale as the first wine. Scents of fresh vegetation, wood, and something spicy at first. Hints of white peach and something suggestive of pine resin. A complex medley of plant scents. Chrysanthemums, maybe? Honey or beeswax. Later, umeboshi (dried, pickled Japanese plums). Light on the palate. Less fruity than the first two wines. Very dry. Much more on the mineral side of things. Moderate length. Somewhat unfamiliar flavors. Slightly astringent. Less immediately appealing than some of the other wines in this group, but tasty, if not my favorite.

2011 Bodega Calle Alberti 154 Salta/La Rioja Torrontés
This wine is a blend of Torrontés grapes from the Salta and La Rioja regions. Deepest in color of the four wines. Medium gold. Citrus scents. Orange water. Honey, beeswax--reminiscent of a Costiere de Nîmes wine. Sandalwood or some other scented wood. Distant hint of muscat. Almonds. Gardenia. Gewürtraminer-like lychee scents. Softer, lower in acid than the other wines at first. Moderate length. Interesting resiny character to the finish. A little more tartness as the wine lingers on the tongue, but overall, seems a trifle austere. Has some tannic astringency. Tasty, but less distinctive than some of the other wines. Preferred this to the Munay wine, but all four of these wines seem worth trying.  

I have no financial connection with the producer, importer, or retailer of the wine reviewed. 
  

Serendipitous Art: White and Orange Tree Bark (March 17, 2014)

As today is St. Patrick's Day, I suppose I should have found something green to post, but I offer this pretty tree instead. I love the dull orange and off-white patterning--the irregular dark areas and the lines of little dots. Unintended art. Serendipitous art. I did snap this photo outside the Green Music Center--maybe that counts?

For more unintended art, see my blog Serendipitous Art.

Plants I'm Growing: First Blooms--Michelia Yunnanensis, Rosa Mutabilis (March 11, 2014)

Warm weather has coaxed out new flowers in the garden. On the 11th, the first buds of this year opened on the Michelia Yunnanensis (a magnolia relative native to the Far East) at the side of the house. I love this plant for its deep green foliage and the beautiful cinnamon-colored covers on the buds. The 11th was also the first day of blooms on the large wild rose, also on the side of the house. This is Rosa mutabilis chinensis. It lives up to its name. The color of the blossoms is highly mutable, changing as the flowers age.

Art I'm Making: Untitled Collage No. 32 (Santa Rosa), March 8, 2014

There's a large pile of painted paper scraps on the floor of my office/studio. Yesterday, I began combing through them, looking for the more interesting pieces. Having set aside a few scraps with appealing colors and attractive patterns, I began to set some of them side by side and quickly came up with a new composition, again using mostly indigo and orange. Although unintentional, this one has something of the feel of a landscape.

Music I'm Listening To: Julia Fischer with the San Francisco Symphony

I attended the March 7, 2014 performance of the San Francisco Symphony with Michael Tilson Thomas conducting. The program included only two pieces, Pokofiev's Violin Concerto No. 1 and The Symphony Fantastique, by Berlioz. Violinist Julia Fischer was the soloist in the concerto. I wish my understanding of music were at a level that would allow me to persuasively articulate what it is about Michael Tilson Thomas's conducting that bothers me. I find it hard to put into words and always suspect my own ignorance is at the root of my dissatisfaction rather than something I'm hearing. After all, Michael Tilson Thomas is Michael Tilson Thomas. Who am I to complain? Still, I consistently find him inconsistent.

Julia Fischer is a fine performer. That was apparent when she gave the audience an exhilirating encore, playing the final movement of Paul Hindemith's Violin Sonata in G minor with verve, but the Prokofiev was something of a disappointment--much as I love the music. Thomas took it more slowly than I'm used to at the outset while other sections seemed rushed, and Fischer's playing felt a trifle mechanical in places and lacking passion. It was as if the soloist and the conductor hadn't quite agreed on things. Perhaps it doesn't matter. The encore was worth the price of admission. She played the solo violin piece with confidence and conviction and got a standing ovation in return. The other performers on stage watched her with rapt attention as she played. I've noticed performers watching soloists that way before. I always wonder what they're thinking. Is it simply a pleasure to watch another fine musician? Are they hoping to learn something? Are some of them jealous? Are they annoyed that they won't get home as early as they had planned on?

Between 2000 and 2004, Fischer played the Booth Stradivarius, owned by the Nippon Music Foundation (the violin Arabella Steinbacher now plays), but in 2004 she purchased a Guadagnini violin made in 1742 or 1750 (depending on which source you believe). I don't know much about Guadagnini, but I thought the instrument had an unusually sweet, even tone throughout its range. According to the Wikipedia article on Gadagnini, his instruments have been owned and played by the likes of Wienawski, Ysaÿe, Vieuxtemps, and Joachim, and more recently Arthur Grumiaux and Victoria Mullova, which seems a strong endorsement.  

I had never heard the Symphony Fantastique live before. I enjoyed it for that reason alone. It's a richly orchestrated piece, which means there's a lot to see (as well as hear). As always in San Francisco, the woodwinds stood out. The conducting seemed uneven, though. The first section, came across as without direction--a series of inconclusive crescendoes and decrescendos. The third section seemed to drag, too, although the Symphony players were in top form during the rest of the performance--and top form at the San Francisco Symphony is very high, indeed.

Photo of Julia Fischer by Kasskara, courtesy of the San Francisco Symphony.

Plants I'm Growing: First Blooms (March 9, 2014)

With some rain now behind us and warmer weather, the garden is beginning to come alive again. On March 5, the small Rhododendron called "Pink Snow Flakes" began to bloom. The Kerria by the side wall started blooming at about the same time--a plant I know by its Japanese name, yamabuki. On March 6th the first of the species tulips Tulipa bakeri started to bloom (above). Only a few of these are left. I planted hundreds, but they were discovered one summer by the ground squirrels. The squirrels dug them all up and ate them. They are slowly spreading again. The Nanking cherry (Prunus tomentosa) began blooming on the 6th as well. The large Ray Hartman Ceanothus started blooming around the same time (below). The dwarf peach and dwarf nectarine behind the house are both in full bloom now, along with the golden currant bush (Ribes aureum).

Art I'm Making: Untitled Collage No. 31 (Santa Rosa), March 5, 2014

And yet another collage. This one did not come easily. I re-worked it many times before coming up with something I liked. And then I lopped off its head, so to speak--cutting off an additional section at what is now the bottom of this composition that had more of the orange elements in it. Ultimately, I liked it best like this, having removed that extra orange portion and then inverted the image. Funny how a piece can seem almost right but continue to irk. Sometimes what finally fixes it is the addition of something new. Sometimes, as in this case, it's a subtraction. The fun thing about collage is that the subtracted bits often find their way into other pieces.

Collage of paper painted with acrylics and mono-printed elements also made using acrylic paints (image size 16.5cm x 13.2cm).

More Rain (March 6, 2014)

It's clear again this morning, but we've had rain on and off the past few days. In all, 1.20 inches has accumulated in the rain gauge since last updating the 2013-2014 rain year total, which is now 17.25 inches at my house--although others in Santa Rosa are reporting somewhat lower totals.

Keep it coming. We're still well below normal.

Art I'm Making: Untitled Collage No. 30 (Santa Rosa)

I just finished another collage. This one features some curved elements. I recently found a good paper cutter that cuts circles--which will make it possible to add more curved lines to the work I'm doing. Curves made sense here because of the spiraling line in the upper part of the composition. This is another piece made from painted paper using acrylic paints and from mono-printed elements (16.5cm x 18cm).

For more, use the Art I'm Making label at the right.

Rain: More Rain (February 25-26)

We got another 1.4 inches of rain on February 25-26. It drizzled most of the night on the 25th. After a lull in the morning on the 26th, we got a good downpour. That brings our total for the 2013-2014 rain year to 15.25 inches, although some locations in Santa Rosa have had as much as two or three inches less than that. We are still well below normal (nearly 12 inches below normal), but every little bit helps, and more rain is forecast in the coming two to three days, with the bulk expected to come tomorrow, the 28th.

[Update: Overnight (on the night of the 27th and into the 28th, we got more rain and it was very windy, but I found only 0.6 inches of rain in the rain gauge in the morning--much less than the howling last night suggested I'd find. Still, I'm not complaining. That brings us to 15.85 inches at my house, although the online station I most frequently monitor for Santa Rosa is reporting only 12.85 inches. Normally, our totals are fairly close.]

[Update: By the end of the 28th, we had had 0.8 inches, which brings the total to 16.05 inches.]

The Cocktail Glass Collection: The 500 Club, San Francisco

I found myself walking along Valencia St. in San Francisco yesterday, winding my way back to my car  after an appointment--a lot of interesting shops there. I walked a few blocks on 17th St. on my way back toward Dolores Park. At the corner of 17th and Guerrero, I spied The 500 Club, apparently a well-known dive bar, judging from Internet comments I found. I photographed the sign out front to add to my Cocktail Glass Collection--a collection of photos of the martini glass signs in front of bars I began last year (not very seriously--I just enjoy seeing good examples of variations on a theme). This one actually has two martini glasses incorporated into the sign--a large one in neon and other lights perched on top and a smaller all-neon glass at the bottom. Both have skewered cherries.

Click here to see it lit up at night--the top half anyway.

To see others in this series of photographs, click on the "cocktail glass collection" label. 

Wines I'm Making: 2012 Cabernet Bottled (February 21, 2014)

I bottled our 2012 Cabernet Sauvignon/Cabernet Franc today, putting eight gallons of wine into newly washed and sanitized bottles. From the tastes I got while siphoning the wine, it's turned out very nicely. In particular, it's got more ripe fruit flavors than in some past years. I won't be able to truly judge the wine until it's settled down and I can sit down with a bottle over a meal, but I'm hopeful that we've made another good batch. Now it's time to design a label for this wine, but also for our 2013 rosé (from Sangiovese), as well as the hard cider we bottled on December 23 last year. I need to hurry. The cider is quickly disappearing.

Plants I'm Growing: First Blooms--Golden Currant and Two-toned Daffodils

First blooms in 2014 on the two-toned daffodils in the front garden on February 18. The golden current (Ribes aureum) in the back garden began blooming on February 17.

[Update: The dwarf flowering peach in the garden began blooming this year on February 21. The dwarf nectarine began blooming on February 27.]

Art I'm Making: Untitled Collage No. 29 (February 18, 2014)

I finished another new collage recently. This one is something of a departure for me because it includes a found object--a numeral three printed on a slip of white paper. It was the wrapper around a bundle of silverware at one of downtown Santa Rosa's brew pubs (The Third St. Ale Works). Normally I don't use found objects because I don't trust them. They tend to fade or yellow, but this one seemed relative safe. It's printed on plain paper in a single color--black--and black tends to hold up. Otherwise, I've again used paper painted with acrylic paints, along with mono-printed elements made with acrylics on paper as the raw materials for the composition, although this one also includes a couple of lines in graphite as well. In the photo here, the lower section looks black, perhaps, but it's actually a deep indigo. Only the numeral is black.

For more, use the Art I'm Making label at right.

Places I'm Visiting: San Francisco Maritime Museum (February 17, 2014)

I made a brief stop at San Francisco's Maritime Museum recently, where Polk St. meets the Bay, in the city's Aquatic Park Historic District, part of the San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park, which includes the park area, the Maritime Museum, a visitor's center in the Argonaut Hotel building, a library and research facility, and a number of historic ships moored nearby. It had been years since I'd been to the museum, which I remembered mostly for some extraordinary ship models long housed there. I arrived only about 20 minutes before closing, having been in the area on other business, but it was enough time to get a taste of the rather startlingly beautiful murals on the interior walls of the museum building, designed by William Mooser Jr. and William Mooser III, and originally built as a bathhouse in the Art Deco style. The bathhouse and its museum were shut down for several years for renovation, but the building appears to have re-opened recently. The murals have been cleaned. They glow with color.

The bathhouse was begun in 1936 and completed in 1939. The fanciful aquatic murals inside are by Hilaire Hiler (1898-1966), known as an artist, but also as a psychologist, a color theorist, and a jazz musician. He was an author as well. His 1942 book Color Harmony and Pigments cast problems of color in art in psychological terms rather than in terms of physics and the physiology of perception. He lived in Paris before WWII and again in his later years. He died there in 1966.

The decorations, the bathhouse, and the park were WPA projects. I can't imagine how I missed the murals in the past, but they appear to have been covered with a layer of grime and the old displays in the museum obscured them.

Today it's possible to enjoy their bright colors and flowing lines again. I spent my short time in the main room photographing details. There is a picture everywhere you look. It's projects like this one that I think of when I hear people complain about too much government, about excessive government spending, about government intruding into spheres of activity best left to private enterprise. The WPA put people to work who needed work, and many of the WPA's projects created art of enduring beauty, facilities of lasting appeal. Generations of San Franciscans and visitors to the city have enjoyed the park and the museum for nearly 80 years now. Although the museum building itself appears to have had something of a checkered history (having been used as a casino and an army facility, among other things), ultimately it has proved a worthwhile spending of taxpayer money. I, for one, am delighted it's there. Seeing the murals was thrilling. Some forms of government intrusion, if this is intrusion, seem greatly to be celebrated.

I hope to make another visit soon to explore the rest of the building. Hiler's "Prismatarium," a color wheel illustrating his color theories and conceived of on the pattern of a planetarium, is on the ceiling of one of the other rooms in the building. In its coherent design and decorations, there is something about the bathhouse that put me in mind of Gaudi's Casa Batllo, in Barcelona. There's much to be seen in the rest of the museum, on the historic ships, and in the visitor's center, but it was worth the trip just to get a brief view of the murals before closing.

Boks I'm Reading: The Lives of the Muses

Francine Prose's book The Lives of the Muses (Perennial 2003, but originally published in hardcover by Harper-Collins in 2002) is now more than ten years old. I've owned a copy for many years, but read only one or two of the nine segments when I first acquired the book. I'm happy to have now read it from cover to cover. Subtitled Nine Women and the Artists They Inspired, the book looks at Hester Thrale, Alice Liddel, Elizabeth Siddal, Lou Andreas-Salomé, Gala Dali, Lee Miller, Charis Weston, Suzanne Farrell, and Yoko Ono and the relationships of these women to the men they inspired--the writers Dr. Johnson, Lewis Carroll, Rainer Maria Rilke; Nietsche; Freud; the painters Gabriel Rosetti and Salvador Dali; the photographers Edward Weston and Man Ray (although Man Ray was also a painter); a choreographer (George Balanchine); and a musician (John Lennon). There are more than nine men in the list because at least one of these women--Lou Andreas-Salome--was a "serial muse," as Prose puts it.

In her introduction, Prose looks briefly at the classical muses, what it has meant to be a muse in more Earthly terms since then, and specifically at the notion of inspiration in the arts. She admits that artistic inspiration remains somewhat mysterious, but points out that we are stubbornly curious about the genesis of art anyway. Again in her afterward, she attempts to find some common threads in the stories she has told. In the end, however, I feel the book is best read as a collection of nine essays about specific relationships without trying too hard to extract broad conclusions about musedom, and each of the nine essays reads well as an independent piece of writing. The essays about Lee Miller and Man Ray and about Suzanne Farrell and George Balanchine were of special interest to me--perhaps because in these two cases both the muses were themselves artists of importance, and, in the case of the choreographer and his muse, the love seems to have been particularly deep, the relationship between artist and muse particularly close, although it never became sexual. Recommended.

Plants I'm Growing: First Blooms--Yellow Daffodils

I belatedly report that our yellow daffodils began to bloom on February 8--tentatively at first, in the heavy rain, but they are fully open now that the rain has stopped and the sun is out. The yellow daffodils began blooming on February 18 in 2013, February 15 in 2012, February 2 in 2011, and on February 5 in 2009, so this seems a fairly typical date. I photographed them last night, still with water on them from the rain.  

Rain: From One Extreme to the Other (February 9, 2014)

After a long drought, it finally started to rain last Thursday and the skies seem intent on making up for lost time. Following the 5.7 inches I reported yesterday, we've had an additional 3.75 inches as of 1:00PM today, Sunday the 9th. That brings our 2013-2014 total to 13.05 inches, still well below normal, but remarkable considering that a week ago we'd had only 3.6 inches since July. In other words, we've had 9.45 inches in the past three days--and it's still pouring.

[As of Monday, February 10, at noon, the rain has stopped for the time being. Since last reporting we accumulated another 0.65 inches, bringing the total to 13.7 niches for the 2013-2014 rain year at this location in Santa Rosa. The storm thus brought us just over 10 inches of precipitation in total.]

[A few more dribbles later added 0.15 inches, buying the total now to 13.85 inches (as of February 19).]

Music I'm Listening To: Hélène Grimaud with the San Francisco Symphony, conducted by Lionel Bringuier (February 7, 2014)

I had the pleasure of attending the February 7 San Francisco Symphony concert with guest conductor Lionel Bringuier and pianist Hélène Grimaud. The program opened with Grimaud at the piano to perform the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 1. After intermission, Bringuier led the Symphony in  Métaboles, by Henri Dutilleux, and then Ravel's La Valse. Bringuier, now associated with the Tonhalle Orchestra in Zurich and formerly with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, was entirely new to me. I'd never heard his name before. He took the first movement of the Brahms concerto rather more slowly at first than I'm used to, but not so slowly as to lose the flow of things. Other parts of the performance seemed to be on the verge of getting out of hand. In places, the conductor let the orchestra overwhelm the piano a little, although Grimaud's playing was big--almost brash (although always precise). Still, I enjoyed hearing the concerto, a very familiar composition but one I'd never heard live before, and Mr. Bringuier seemed to have things very much in hand in the second half of the program. Bringuier is one to keep an eye on.

Ms. Grimaud, from what I've read about her, is something of a maverick. I haven't heard enough of her recordings to have a real sense of her style, but on stage she seemed the no-nonsense sort--both in her dress (wearing a simple knitted top in silver and flared satin pants in a warm silvery grey rather than something more flamboyant) and in her approach to the music. The impression she gave was of being simultaneously focused and overflowing with energy. She rewarded a very appreciative audience with an encore, but didn't say what it was. I questioned several ushers and a couple of the musicians on stage during intermission, but no one recognized the piece. One of the bass players suggested it might have been something by Scriabin….

Henri Dutilleux is a fairly obscure composer, but one I've always had a fondness for, mainly because of his Cello Concerto (in part owing to a wonderful old EMI recording I have of it with Rostropovich on the cello, paired with Lutoslawski's concerto for the same instrument). Dutilleux's highly abstract music always seems to reflect a much greater interest in texture, time, and timbre than in melody or harmony. Although the program notes for the concert emphasize his interest in musical structure and forms, I suspect he was motivated in a significant way by the sheer joy of experimenting with sound. He seems to paint with sound. I find it easy to imagine his music in the visual language of someone like Kandinsky. Métaboles was typical in that sense. It was a delight to listen to--to listen to in the way that you listen to sounds like frogs in the night, rain on the roof, waves against the shore, the clicking of a cricket, or the tinkling of a wind chime--with your attention attuned to the quality of the sound as much as to the direction it's going.

The concert ended with what seemed an impeccable rendition of La Valse.

Photo of Mr. Bringuier courtesy of the San Francisco Symphony (uncredited); photo of Hélene Grimaud by Mat Hennek, courtesy of Deutsche Grammophon. 

Art I'm Making: More Collages (February 6, 2014)

The day before yesterday I turned to my paints again, eager to try out a new color I bought in the wonderful Sennelier acrylic line, this one called "Warm Grey." I covered a few sheets of paper with the color and some other pale tones--the ones they call "Parchment" and "Titan Buff" among them. I doodled a little with a graphite stick. Later I got out "Prussian Blue Hue" (This one from Graham rather than Sennelier), and printed a few more sheets of paper from a plate of glass and used some of these mono-printed sheets to print on other sheets of paper. Armed with all this new raw material, I quickly put together three new collages that I'm rather pleased with. I really like the Sennelier colors and the effects I've been achieving by printing onto paper using mono-printed elements. These new collages have a rather different feel from some of the others I've done, but I'm pleased with them.

Rain: More Rain (February 6, 2014)

Rain starting late yesterday afternoon and continuing through the night has given us nearly an inch of new rain (0.90 inches at my house as of 9:00AM on February 6). It continues to mist and drizzle. Rain is in the forecast for the next three days. I hope it continues. I've heard predictions of as much as five inches in the coming days. That would be wonderful. Even so, it would leave us well below normal. We'll see.

[Update: It's continued to rain--at times, quite hard. Checking the rain gauge today, February 8, at 5:00PM, we've added 5.7 inches since I last reported a total (of 3.6 inches). So, we are now at 9.3 inches for the 2013-2014 rain year--and it's still raining. That leaves us more than 13 inches below normal, but it's a big improvement.]

Plants I'm Growing: First Blooms--Pluot "Dapple Dandy," Flowering Plum, Daphne Odorata

I noticed the first open buds today on the large Daphne odorata behind the house. The plant has done poorly lately. Inexplicably, about half the plant turned brown and dried up last summer. Water wasn't the problem, or the whole plant would have withered. It remains a mystery, but I'm happy to see flowers on the part of the plant that has survived. The Daphne bloomed on January 2 in 2013, which was quite early. The plant bloomed on February 7, 2012, January 21, 2011, and January 19, 2010.

On February 3, the first flowers appeared on the Pluot "Dapple Dandy" (above) and the pink flowering plum (Prunus blireana) behind the house, although, following the pattern of recent years, the latter has few remaining buds on it. The sparrows, juncos, and House Finches in the yard like to eat the flowers before they open, presumably for the nectar within. They remove virtually every bud on branches stout enough to perch on. The plum first bloomed on February 17 in 2009, February 4 in 2011, February 2, in 2012, and February 15, in 2013, so this is a fairly typical date (I don't have a record for 2010). "Dapple Dandy" first bloomed on February 5 in 2009, February 15 in 2010, February 4 in 2011, and February 23 in 2013. I can't find a record for "Dapple Dandy" for 2012.

 

Rain: Finally Something Worthy of the Name (February 2, 2014)

Last night and today we finally had a little rain--the first of substance in many weeks. At my house, we got 0.7 inches. That's not enough on its own to make a big difference, but any amount is welcome at this stage. Today's precipitation follows 0.05 inches a few days earlier--an almost negligible sprinkle. Still, the recent rain brings our total for the 2013-2014 rain year to 3.60 inches, which is an improvement, although that still leaves us 17.8 inches below normal for this time of year (21.43 inches). We desperately need more.

Wines I'm Making: 2013 Cabernet Racked and Sulfited (January 31, 2014)

I finally racked and sulfited the 2013 Cabernet, although the malolactic fermentation doesn't appear to have gone to completion. I tested the wine twice using a paper chromatography kit. The fermentation looks like it went about halfway. Nearly two months had passed and I kept the wine warm with an electric blanket, but there is still some malic acid in the wine. It seemed safest to move on, though, given the time, so I racked the wine off the gross lees (which can be seen left behind in the fermentation vessel here) and sulfited the wine lightly, to about 49ppm. I need to look into the long-term implications of an incomplete malolactic fermentation. Live and learn, as they say. It's now time to bottle the 2012 wine, which I recently gave a final racking.