Death in The Seventh Seal (1956), directed by Ingmar Bergman
This afternoon I noticed cobwebs on the edges of the incense cedar. Then I saw the weeping cherry had strangely yellow leaves on three branches. As I raked up the dead grass on the back lawn it all seemed too symbolic, and I felt like I was in a Bergman movie full of ominous portent.
Meanwhile, the rest of Nevada County was bursting with ripe peaches and brilliant sunflowers.
I may be half-Scandinavian, but I want to ditch gloomy Bergman and find a new director. My garden could use a lively musical number by Busby Berkely.
What's the opening scene in your garden right now? Who would direct your garden film this summer?
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