With the temperatures in Dallas going up to 100 this week can you blame me if I’m confused and think it’s vacation time? Ours isn’t for a few of more months but all I can think of is vacation.
In the meantime the next best thing I can do is read about foreign lands. So, last night I started reading Frances Mayes’ A Year in the World. The first part details her travels through Spain, land of Flamenco, Gaudi and Lorca. It’s just beautiful. I may be biased as my first European vacation was to Spain but for now this book is at least letting me forget about the daily grind and taking me back to a place I can’t forget.
For now here’s an excerpt of a poem by Federico García Lorca which I hope takes you to Spain.
Arbolé, Arbolé
The girl with the pretty face
is out picking olives.
The wind, playboy of towers,
grabs her around the waist.
Four riders passed by
on Andalusian ponies,
with blue and green jackets
and big, dark capes.
“Come to Cordoba, muchacha.”
The girl won’t listen to them.
Three young bullfighters passed,
slender in the waist,
with jackets the color of oranges
and swords of ancient silver.
