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Category: Garden

What I learned in NY

The trip to Hyde Park was good in so many ways and although I can't say it was particularly restful, it was reinvigorating.

I overscheduled myself from the very beginning, trying to catch up with everyone and do everything in an impossibly short time. Then, when plans began to go awry while I was in transit, I felt a little worried and stressed just by the logistics of everything, frazzled before I even arrived. Time spent with friends was far too rushed that first day.

But when I went to to the Hyde Park house I was instantly calmed. I saw this place with new eyes, eyes that were no longer clouded by the various other stories that had been going on in my life when I left. The house itself was good and in good shape. I thought I would buy it again, if my life were on a different course. But even though I still own the property, it is not my house anymore. And I don't miss it.

I was happy to see a few flowers, happy to see that a few tulips were still blooming. And my beloved hellebores were lush with flowers.

The fern-leaf peony was about to open. Perhaps it is still open today for the open house. I was tempted to dig it up and bring it home to Tennessee. But I did not.

The pool was opened. Chemicals were added. A few things were purchased. After all of this I left. I was supposed to meet a friend in NYC. She got her weekends mixed up. Always late, but a little later than usual I sent a text only to get "That was this weekend?" in response. Out. Of. Town. Oh well.

When I got the message I was in a bar waiting, negroni in hand. At first I felt at loose ends. I thought of going back to my hotel and ordering room service. That is what the Mardel of just a few months ago might have done. During the past few years I have admittedly drawn inward. Always introverted, I had retreated further into myself to the point that I haven't always been quite sure how to reach back out. Instead, I decided that I had been given an opportunity. I sat back and savored my drink slowly, watching the crowd. There were many groups of people talking. Some were talking business. Some were just kicking back and relaxing. One girl, obviously a friend of the hostess, would be animated when her friend had a few minutes to stop by but otherwise looked down at her drink, forming an island around herelf in the crowd. On another side of the bar were several single guys, drink in hand, frantically attacking their smartphones, scanning their networks, trying to find a connection. One managed to link to someone he knew and work his way into a group on the far side of the bar, relief palpable in his every motion. The others finished their drinks and left.

I could have been one of those people. Might have been. But I decided to follow a different path. I went for a walk. I watched people hurrying home from work. I watched friends laughing together. I watched people walking dogs. I slowly breathed in the New York air and looked at the buildings and in the store windows. At one intersection three women were trying to hail a cab. When a cab pulled over, the women, who were apparently not traveling together, got into a discussion over which one of them should take it. The cabbie gave up and departed. Only women would do that, even in New York. It made me smile.

By then I realized I was hungry. I passed a sushi place that was quite busy but there was a seat at the bar. I am always attracted to busy places when I am alone. I sat and ate, quietly at first, trusting the chef to give me something good, but allowing myself to begin chatting with my neighbors about the food, sake, and the protocols of using soy and wasabi with one's sushi. This lead to more random and frivolous discussions. It all turned out to be a perfect evening, exactly what I needed, and the highpoint of my trip.

I was just another annonymous person in a big city on a Friday night, and I had fun. I had forgotten how much I like to travel. I had forgotten how much I like to see new places, to observe yes, but with an open mind, and a willingness to interact. It had been a long time since I had been able to experience that side of travel, the wonder at the new, either alone or with a partner. My days of having a partner in observation are gone. New things became frightening and overwhelming to G long before most people were willing to accept changes in his everyday demeanor. And this changed me as well: Forced to cope, often without support, I drew inward and essential parts of myself got locked away. This past weekend in NY it is as if I found a key to some long-locked door, which when opened, was filled with light.

That little spark has remained. I like the way people here are more open, more likely to greet strangers with a kind word. I may have shrugged it aside a few weeks ago, but now I find myself discussing recipes with the clerk at the food market, chatting with the postal clerk, discussing wine with another customer at the local liquor store, or shoes with a deacon at my church. Well, there has not been a complete transformation. I still find safety in annonymity. It is easy to master easy-going banter when there is no risk involved. It is the middle territories that are hard, the groups that are neither strangers nor close friends, where the risks seem higher. Somehow those risks don't seem so insurmountable this week. And for that I suppose I have to thank New York.

April 29, 2012
The View Through The Trees

One of the things that I found truly oppressive to my spirit this spring was just how overgrown the perimeters of the yard had become. I knew they were overgrown, but I hadn't actually thought about it and how much psychic weight all those leaves and vines carried, until I had time to sit back and actually take a look.

Last week we had over a dozen large trees taken out, for the most part trees that we at the bottom of our cliff and which had finally grown up high enough to begin impinging on our view of the Hudson. This week I had the small brush person here cleaning up the woods along the perimeter of the driveway. When I first moved here I could see the rock ledge between my house and the street year round, and I could see the house as I rounded the first bend in my driveway. These views had been obscured by trees and shrubs for years, since G stopped spending many weekends cutting back trees and brush 5 or 6 years ago. No wonder I had started liking the winter view more than the summer view. Now that is about to change.

Here are some before pictures:

And here is the view coming down the hill now, from roughly right behind where the chipper is standing in the above photo:

And here is one end of the large rock outcropping between us and the street:

You can only see a large vague dark shape in the background. The rest of that outcropping is still hidden by brush and small trees. We had only scheduled 2 days of cutting and chipping and needed three, the last day will be the end of July, but already it is a great improvement. Rather than feeling like I am descending into the bowels of the jungle as I approach my driveway, I am filled with lightness and relief.

I will spend some of the weekend redistributing the piles of wood chips more evenly among the trees, and cleaning up some of the small things. But mostly I am still working on the finer points of the front yard, although it is much improved over last year.

June 30, 2011
More Flowers

This small intermingling of pink astilbes and hydrangea with the small blue browallia blossoms strikes me as perfection every time I walk in and out of the house. In fact, I have been known to walk outside to just sit and look at this small shady bed at the base of my front walk whenever I need a calming moment.

Nearby, the lilies are just beginning to bloom:

I meant to move these lilies last fall, as they don't get quite enough sun and reach over far to the side, stretching themselves toward the light, which of course means they are all the more easily trampled into the ground come a summer thunderstorm.

They share the bed with dahlias, which seem to be happy enough with the light and this relatively dry site.

June 22, 2011
More Flower Photos

There has been much hustle and bustle around here and little time for reflection or even knitting. But there is always time to stop and admire the flowers. These are large zinc boxes in front of the garage.

I tend to think the whole space is a little too messy, but I haven't found quite the right planters for the look I want. Although I was initially unsure about the plantings, they are filling out nicely and I have come to appreciate them a little more.

These two small planters at the north corner of my garage were just finished Monday. But they are already starting to pick up a bit.

June 15, 2011
A few flowers

I hope I've learned a little something from watching Celeste put together the amazing planters she did for me last year.

I somehow feel I have to live up to the standards she set, but I also want the planters to have my own stamp, to be more "me", whatever that means.

I'm kind of working on them in bits and pieces between work on the other flower beds and the general plantings around the house, depending on what I find at each foray to one of the local nurseries. The only problem with this approach so far is that I can't necessarily find a particular plant again if I decide I really like the effect it creates. Hopefully this will help spark more creativity. It may just lead to overblown messiness.

June 6, 2011
And So Summer Begins

I'm spending the day working in the garden.

Hope you are having a wonderful day.

May 30, 2011
A Change is Coming

I had to sew today. I absolutely had to sew today. And I have very little to show for it — 12 little pieces of ribbon sewn on a stack of towels. But for this I had to clear a corner of the table to set up the machine. For this I had to empty out several boxes, cursing under my breath, as I wondered where I had put the power cord for the sewing machine. But it was a significant gesture for me, an action filled with promise both because it required sewing, even if only in a temporary sort of space, and because putting new towels in the kitchen cabinet also is an act of promise on the home front as well.

Tomorrow is aide transfer day, a day I have been looking anticipating for a long long time. I thought it would be today, but I learned that this was a misunderstanding. I got the word from the current aide, that it would be Tuesday, although he now denies this. I should not be surprised. I remember the discussion well, but I would say that our soon to be ex care person has a tenuous grasp of facts. I say this remembering how many times we argued last week about whether April 25th had been on Friday, as he insisted, or Monday. But this is the least of it. Suffice it to say that our aide is well meaning and has good intentions. Also let it be known that good intentions are most emphatically not enough.

Although I have learned to take "common sense" with a, pardon the cliché, "grain of salt", I am constantly reminded of that old proverb, which G used to love to quote:

"He who knows not and knows not that he knows not, is a fool….Shun him."

In short, I can expect that people who grew up with different experiences to know and see the world differently than I. I recognize that what I think of as "common knowledge" might not be at all common for those who grew up in wildly different environments. But I do expect a certain ability to adapt, and ability to listen to explanations and to learn, and sensitivity to our wishes and the reasoning behind them.

Not that life will be perfect. All problems will not disappear. I do not expect this. At this point I only hope for less stress. That, in and of itself, will be a blessing.

I have learned that I do not suffer fools gladly, and the pressure to be kind and considerate and tolerant has been more difficult than I expected.

But it is spring. Beauty is around us. I shall hope for better both from my spouse's next aide and from myself.

May 3, 2011
More Early Spring Flowers

The small irises and crocuses continue to bloom, filling in the gaps and now carpeting the new front landscaping bed. Soon enough the greenery will be up and this bed will pass into its summer garb of textured greens, but for now, when the rest of the world remains brown, the lilacs and purples are a constant source of joy.

Even though I have been gardening and planting for a long time, and you would think that I would take the return of the plants for granted, each year, when new shoots arrive and the treasures planted the previous season return to greet the world, my heart does a little dance of joy.

Now the hellebores, whose green leaves braved the onslaught of winter, looking perhaps a little tired after the months of snow have perked up, put out new leaves and are bursting into bloom. These are my first hellebores and I am thrilled to see them, battle scarred though the leaves may be, especially since I am planning to plant more. The light ones, "green heron" are the first to bloom, but I see deep purple buds proliferating on their darker cousins, helleborus hybridus "onyx odyssey" as well.

I did not get as far with the bulb planting as I had hoped last year, so there are no fields of flowers, but this small front yard is really all that is necessary, warm and welcoming and filled with joy.

April 12, 2011
Spring Bulbs

Now it is time to celebrate the simple pleasures of spring.

Spring bulbs always brighten the spirits after a long dreary winter. Especially as they brave the snows and keep their pretty heads up even as winter refuses to fade away, quietly oblivious to the storms of nature and human emotion.

A field of Iris histrioides Katherine Hodgkin makes my heart sing every single day and is a fabulous pay-out for the hours spent planting hundreds of bulbs. Would that all effort yielded such glorious results.

April 4, 2011
The Enormity of it All: or Trying to Contain that Which has been Unbound

Looking back at my post of a week ago, it seems so distant now, that simplicity and that happiness.   I do know that even as I wrote that post, things were slipping, perhaps only imperceptibly to all but the most attentive, the most involved on a day to day basis, and yet I am happy to be reminded.

In the meantime I have been absent from my normal pursuits, from this blog, from blogs and the internets in general although I do keep up, somewhat marginally with personal mail. Rather I have been focused on the big push to tackle the piles that have accumulated and which I had been happily ignoring throughout January and February. Perhaps it is a spring cleaning sort of thing. Perhaps I see bits of confusion and randomness poking out of the cracks here and there and tackling the piles at least is something I can control. Control I must.

And so I have been tackling the books which have been piled on the floor. When I created a room for the caregiver, I dismantled my small library, my favorite the room in the house and the contents have been piled on the living room floor ever since. I took the shelving system and put it up in the family room. I lost a few shelves. There are radiators here, and windows that were not present in the original location.

I have not really gained much space. There were shelves here before on the wall to the right, and between the window and the corner. But the aluminum system from Rakks looks much nicer than the old sytem of mismatched wall brackets and boards.    The simple truth is that I lost 126 board feet of shelving and have only added 36 feet to the family room storage so there has been much purging and much metaphorical pulling of hair and mental angst. There will be many books that will end up going into boxes until some future date as well because I cannot bring myself to get rid of them all.

When I read Larry McMurtry's story about collecting books I thought I was not a collector, and in a sense I am not, in that I cannot collect a subject just for the sake of having a complete set. I have to like each book. But I do collect the books I love, look for better copies, consider each one old friends, and have multiple versions of certain things, such as my five versions of the various works of the Pearl Poet including one version in the "original" text, one cleaned up middle english version, and at least three translations of Gawain, each different and each prized. I suppose that the love of early English literature never dies just as I cannot imagine life without an occasional foray into Spenser or Skelton.

So it is about condensing and making choices. I learned that coding books, especially the newer ones, are often available as PDF files, and I can purchase PDF files of paper books I own very cheaply, hence one small shelf has been freed.   And I am still on the fence about mass-market paperbacks versus digital copies of books. Most mass-market paperbacks are sent on their way after I read them, but there are a few favorite authors I hold on to but feel no need to upgrade to hard copies. I increasingly find that I prefer the portability of the kindle to even a small paperback at the gym or when out and about, but the kindle does not lend itself to picking up a book and reading a random page here and there before putting the book back on the shelf. There is a stack of books that are currently in this kind "save, toss, or go digital" limbo, and I suppose I will eventually make a decision as I continue to catalog books and decide what will fit on the remaining shelves and what will get boxed until the next phase.

Reading Thomas Cahill's How The Irish Saved Civilization, has kind of played into this general mental turmoil in unexpected ways as well. I picked it up thinking I could read it and get it off the shelves, which will indeed happen. It is entertaining and a good, light, introduction to the subject. It served as a bit of a refresher course in a way, as I have, and have read, many of his primary sources: Bede, Augustine, Ausonius, even Kinsella's translation of the Tain, as well as many of the referenced works on Medeival and church history. Again it is that fascination with the medeival that serves me well. It served me well in a career too, as I was hired for my first computer programming job precisely because of my interest in medieval literature, and would agree with my former mentor that there is much similarity in the mind-set requried for both.

But what surprised me about Cahill's book was the way I started questioning my decision to transfer more of the less important stuff to digital copies. I suddenly started wondering what would happen if the computer networks went down, or there were no more electricity, and I would undergo a momentary flight of panic. I am sure the tragedy in Japan has also fed into these musings for, as unimaginable as it all is to me, and as sorry as I feel for these people for the pain and tragedy of their loss, it is also a reminder of how tenuous our hold on life and civilization really is in this world. The Romans were just as confident that their world would endure forever as we are that our digital information system is the future of all knowledge.    At the moment I shall take comfort in my computers but also in my own small space and my own volumes of cloth and paper.

But I suspect I shall be preoccupied with these tasks at least through the end of this month, so postings will be light. I am oft exhausted and although I think of things I want to write, by the time I sit, my brain is a scrambled up bit of connections and images and incoherent fragments. By the end of the day I crave mindless visual stimulation and the simplicity of stockinette stitch in my hands.

After the books I shall tackle the closets, including G's old closet, and the piles of fabric and yarn that were also displaced. But I shall emerge in time for spring perhaps with a flowering of creative energy to accompany the flowering of the landscape.

As you can see, Spring is most definitely arriving to the Hudson Valley. The first crocus bulbs burst into flower yesterday, and I have a nice batch of small irises as well, even though there are still also a few piles of snow scattered here and there across the lawn.

I would not also be surprised if, just as I say that I will be absent because I must finally deal with all this stuff in my life before it drives me batty, just as I think I am overwhelmed, my voice decides to emerge from the hole in which it has entrenched itself. At the moment, however, I continue to feel more overwhelmed by piles than inspired by flowers.

March 16, 2011