A Melancholic Sputtering into Fall
Coming from the opening of Spring in Buenos Aires on Saturday to a foreshadowing of fall in Vancouver has put me into a melancholic mood as I think of the warmth of Buenos Aires, of my family of the employees of our Claridge Hotel on Calle Tucumán. That melancholy is partially brightened by the photographs I took of a couple of tango dancers that perform on the street, the extremely central hub of two walking malls, Lavalle and Florida. I am currently fixing the pictures of Guillermina Van Der Linden (you see her and it’s a hot summer evening of Buenos Aires) and her partner José Carlos Romero Vedía. They and their troupe dance Monday through Saturday from 5 to 9. In my opinion they are superior to any of the expensive and over-the-top Buenos Aires Tango Shows.
The sometimes excellence of age and experience
Donde la espalda pierde su nombre
It is cold and I have turned on the heat but as I walk around our garden I can note that some of our roses are ignoring the rain and the cooling and are sputtering and keeping on. They take seriously the idea that since they are remontant they must bloom in the fall. And many have.
These spent blooms of the English Rose, Rosa ‘Abraham Darby’ the Sherman Tank of Roses is to my eyes extraordinarily beautiful.
Soon they will all be gone and they will lose their leaves. But there is that idea that after our winter, a coming spring will remind me of tango, warm friends and our roses will greet us for another year.
Of hope.
