Alone in my interior office, among gray walls and fluorescent lights, I sit and stare into my garden, hung above my desk, to remind me of what I have waiting at home.
The fountain has moved from place to place, as I make my way. Three heavy pieces of cast concrete hauled by a hand cart, and rolled head over heel, to a designated spot of earth.
It is the first garden spot I landscape, paying homage to the cherub, whose pitcher sends forth a continuous flow of water, making its way from tier to tier. The splash and the babble, together, set the circadian rhythm for my life.
nuance 