Sunday, January 13, 2013

Dusk: Flamingo Park

Twilight, dusk, blue hour--many names in many languages for this time between day and night.  Last night's twilight in Flamingo Park was blue and green.  The night-lights did not interfere, only added to the dusky feel.  For once they did not seem unnatural, rather an adaptation.  I sat and watched, heard the pah-pah of the basketball.  How would you describe that sound of the ball hitting the surface?  How do you say "twilight"?  Please tell me, in your language.

J. came by on his bike.  Easy twilight, easy ride: the land is flat here.  Is that why the sky seems so close?  We sat and talked.  He rode off, and I went home to drink Badia "Chamomile & Anise Tea, Te de Manzanilla y Anis."  I'm drinking it again this morning, the empty packet next to my computer as the tea brews.



  1. the scent of a tea can evoke the place where you drank it so strongly.

    when james and i visited montreal recently, i bought a packet of 'digestif' tea, that i brewed every night after dinner. i missed it so much when we got home, that i ordered a bulk package from Canada....a treat, reminding me of a wonderful mini-vacation.

  2. Abenddämmerung.

    Yes, certainly blue and filled with light until the very end. Please have a bright new week ahead.

  3. Susan--did the tea have anise?

    Hello, Robert, Abenddamerung rolls off the tongue.

    Crepusculo, I think, in Spanish.

  4. Crepusculo indeed! With an accent on the first "u". That's one of my favourite words in Spanish. And in English, too, crepuscule. :-)

    Greetings from London.

  5. Gorgeous word, Cuban, crepusculo. Satisfying to repeat it.

    Thanks from Mim in South Beach . . .