I went to the De Young Museum yesterday. I entered by the Fog Bog. When I left, I sat on a bench and looked across at the Academy of Sciences with its odd grass-colored balls with eyes. I walked past the Pool of Imagination.
I looked at the clouds and the leaves and the trees that were bare and those that still held butterfly leaves of gold.
I scattered leaves with my feet and felt softness and padding.
There was movement outside, fresh smells. I admired the dirt that held the plants that grew and changed in the light.
I wondered if we build museums so we better appreciate what is outside. The contrast was amazing. The exhibit, sculptures by Louise Nevelson were mainly black, literally black. There was an unusual collection of teapots that for the most part could not be used to make tea.
There is an odd smell in the De Young. I can never quite define it, but it is the most wonderful release to exit back outside, and see the clouds, sky, and trees.
