I walk out the front door and sooner rather than later I notice things that make me ponder. Sometimes I ponder deeply and fruitlessly, and sometimes I do Ponder Lite and just absorb the beauty.
Here are some recent places and things that made me look twice:
It was 6:01 AM on the 5.2 motoscafo from the Giardini toward Piazzale Roma. I was surprised to see so many people already in transit, but gobsmacked to see how the man in the aisle had organized himself for the voyage. In all these years I have never seen this solution to standing-room-only. It’s true that I have seen other people and their luggage take up the same amount of space, and it’s true that he is not blocking the aisle (though I cannot grasp why this human bear wouldn’t remove his backpack. Does it make him feel safe? Smaller?). There is nothing WRONG with what he’s doing, it’s just outlandish. My trying to imagine what the ride would be like if everybody decided to bring their own chairs doesn’t help me feel any better about this. And yet I still can’t say why.A few weeks ago there was quite a flurry of activity at one of the entrances to the Giardini. A few men in full gear labored all day, and part of the next day, to install a brace on this tree that could perhaps have been more useful on the Leaning Tower of Suurhusen. The amount of effort and money dedicated to supporting this plant is entirely praiseworthy, but I withhold my praise because while I agree that plants have as much of a right to live as Komodo dragons and Hungerford’s crawling water beetle, it also seems that they could just as well have cut the tree down and planted a young one. This isn’t the Treaty Oak or the Endicott Pear Tree, though perhaps someone somewhere thinks that if it can be kept upright, eventually this tree will achieve some status worthy of the Guinness Book.Your average feral rock pigeon is kind of loathsome, but this bird seems to have been created by a Persian calligrapher.And speaking of birds, in addition to the usual egrets I discovered that there was a swan stretching its wings. Wild swans are among the many species of bird that depend on the lagoon more than any of us do, and I remember one winter morning when we were out rowing when three of them flew over us, very low, and I could see their necks undulating slightly and hearing a curious low sound which I thought came from their throats, but which I now learn was the air passing around their large, majestic wings.The game is on, Watson — here, the traces of hopscotch, known in Venice as “campanon” (“big bell”). Lino says boys play it too. Nice to know there’s something other than soccer going on here.At certain vantage points, the rising sun makes some excellent reflections.Reflections are almost better than the thing being reflected. Some philosopher can probably explain that.
