Sent: Monday, October 22, 2007 12:53 PM Subject: Article for Mom on Matumi Where my parents live is the most gracious and beautiful dwelling place I know. The last time I visited Matumi was mid winter, there was such a light diffused among the trees and plants. It was as if everything was shining in the embrace of some giant invisible luminous being. Matumi shone with revealed meaning. The leaves, the grass, the rocks and flowers. Distances were shortened. The mountain across the valley was as clearly defined as the giant aloes in the driveway. My mother, with the spare and masterly strokes of a zen master, has crafted paradise out of a mountainside. Reluctantly, she rubs out the charcoal of a tree here and there - and behind the tree she reveals further mountains, distance and new vistas. A kilometre below, from the throne-like height of the breakfast table, through the overhanging leaves of a thorn tree, is a miniature Serengeti. Like a small Japanese temple garden: if you lo
Left wing commentary from the heart and the head