I've been distracted of late, and my words have been lost in the fog of my thoughts.
While waiting to be able to check into our hotel, that first day in Scotland, we went up to Edinburgh Castle. Apparently, I was more entranced by the views from the castle than the castle itself, except perhaps for a few bits here and there.
Regardless, following are my first impressions of Edinburgh.
I am away at a retreat. Hopefully my words, and more pictures, will follow shortly. Have a glorious weekend.
First meal at home after traveling: local lamb chops and sugar snap peas (not local).
I went to Scotland as part of a group organized by Nancy Erickson. I had been on Nancy's first Italy tour, 20 years ago, and now on her first(?) Scotland Tour. The focus was a mix of fashion and history, with tours of historic sites, knitting and weaving mills, and outlets. Nancy is a warm and wonderful guide, my friend Liana is warm and funny and a great roommate, and I had a good time. It was my first trip to Scotland, my first trip out of the country since George died, and my first trip out of the country since I learning of my own dietary restrictions.
Perhaps it is because I am thinking about food, being home and once again engaged in shopping and cooking and all that, perhaps it is just because food was a minor concern, but it seems like a good enough place to start. Above, Liana and I are sharing complimentary gin and tonics in the lobby of the G&V Royal Mile Hotel our first afternoon in Edinburgh.
First, the Hotels:
I'm a little short on time right now, and hence on time for thought and thoughtful words. Instead I thought I'd share the remains of my photos from my trip to San Antonio in August.
Saturday morning I went to the McNay, one of my favorite small art museums, and I've posted some pictures of things I saw on my visit there previously. There was a fabulous exhibit of artworks from the collections of the museum's Collector's Forum, a group of supporters who are interested in art, and who support the museum and museum purchases. They seem to be something like the Collector's Circle at the Knoxville Museum of Art, but we are a smaller city and a smaller museum. Photos were not allowed so I cannot share, and I do, in fact understand the reasoning behind that decision. I did however wish that, aside from the name of the work and the artist, there had been a brief statement about why each collector was drawn to the work chosen. But that could just be me. I always like the stories and the personal connections.
I also went to the Pearl Brewery District and wandered the farmer's market. Made me wish I had a kitchen so I could take something home. But I had fun anyway. I love wandering farmer's markets and cities and just walking through a town, especially where there are people gathered, getting a sense of the place.
Tikka and I, of course, took several more walks up or down the river walk.
This photo from early Saturday evening.
And I love the thoughtful planning; even areas under the bridges were not neglected.
The early morning view directly across from our hotel:
After that Sunday morning walk we were off to Houston to meet a friend, and visit the Rothko chapel. How much has changed in such a short time. My friend's house was not flooded, but loss is everywhere around her. It was a trip filled with joy and yet tinged with sadness. How precious and fragile are our days and our world.
A friend and I went on a little adventure last weekend. We drove down to Brevard, North Carolina, to see the Embroidery Guild of America's 21st National Exhibit. This was our destination:
We didn't know what to expect, and we drove past the building the first time. It was well worth the visit, and many works were incredibly beautiful, showing great technical proficiency and creativity. I didn't really understand some of the pieces, but the creativity amazes and inspires me.
Photography was not allowed. I bought the catalog so that I could remember things that inspired me. The back cover is shown above. Below is a promotional photo from the exhibit. Oddly, none of these were my favorite pieces. I know the exhibit will be traveling. I highly recommend it.
The workmanship was so inspiring that I came home and spent the next afternoon ripping stitches out on a piece I had been working on. I had been dithering as to whether or not it mattered, but it does.
We took the scenic route down, through the Pisgah National Forest. It was a slow winding road, but quite beautiful. Just outside the park we had lunch at a bicycle shop/tavern. The food came from a Lebanese Food truck and was incredibly good. I couldn't help but think about how much the world has changed in the last half-century. We took the "fast" route home, on the interstate. But it took us the same amount of time. Perhaps it is just the "fast" route because you are moving faster, not because you reach your destination any faster.
Last week I also made garam masala for the first time since I moved. One part of me can't believe I have lived here for over three months and am only now making garam masala. But at the same time I also noticed that I had not used either dried basil, tarragon, or oregano yet either. These are spices that I usually go through quite regularly. There were some additions to the herb and spice rack this week.
Perhaps summer food simply cries out for fresh herbs. I don't believe the fresh and the dried are interchangeable. Their uses, and their flavors are very similar, but not quite identical. Perhaps, now that it feels more like fall, I feel like cooking food that allows the flavors of dried herbs to shine.
Expanding the spice rack while still recovering from a cold/sinus thing, gave me a perfect excuse to fritter away part of an afternoon making matching labels for all my jars.
I'm trying something different. I am a bit overextended at the moment, and I have been struggling with blogging anyway. I don't want to give it up, but it seems I've become to stuck in one place, blog-wise, and I want to venture out. I'm giving myself permission to not stick to a schedule. I'm also going to try a few different things, like this post, and see what happens.
Until next time,.
I thought I'd share a few pictures from the San Antonio Riverwalk.
We arrived later than I had hoped on Friday, and Tikka and I were both ready to get out of the car and stretch our legs. Dallas had been cooler than usual for early August, and the temperature when we hit San Antonio was a bit of a shock to our systems — 99° at 7PM. I remember Texas heat from my childhood, but I am no longer used to it.
It didn't seem intolerable on the river walk, probably because we were out of the direct sun. Tikka was eager for a walk and we went two miles. I was surprised because she had not been eager to walk once the heat and humidity hit Knoxville, but maybe it was the humidity more than the heat.
After our walk, I took Tikka back to the hotel and went back out to dinner. We were staying on the river walk, a little over half a mile from the busiest part of the Riverwalk, where the majority of the restaurants and hotels were located, but I didn't walk quite that far back, dining at somewhat trendy, modern Mexican place, Acenar, where I enjoyed some lovely duck tacos and a perfectly balanced jalapeno cucumber margarita.
The next morning was cooler, and quite humid, and our walk was shorter. I don't know if Tikka was tired from the previous evenings walk in the heat, or if it is actually the humidity that she dislikes, more than the heat.
We walked the opposite direction in the morning, toward the Pearl District, and although we did not walk quite that far, or as far as the previous evening, we still managed a mile and a half or so. There were more social opportunities for Tikka in the morning as there were quite a few people walking their dogs, and I was happy with the location of our hotel, closer to residential areas, where there was a steady stream of walkers and runners.
We did not feel either crowded, or isolated, on our walks and we were in a good place. The last time I had stayed on the River in San Antonio, a couple of years earlier with my mom, we were in the heart of the shopping and restaurant district, where it was both crowded in the evening, but empty-feeling and almost abandoned in the early morning. This felt like a much more balanced place; whereas the streets above still seemed almost empty, there was a nice mix of old and young, runners and walkers, residents and visitors.
Am I growing more fearful and cautious with age? Admittedly I paused and had second thoughts. Tikka and I were out for a walk and at the beginning of the trail a sign had been added to the one listing the rules of the trail — "Warning, Alligators on Trail". I looked at Tikka, tail wagging happily, wondering if she would make a tasty morsel. I am not comfortable with the idea of meeting an alligator, despite the fact that we did summer in southern Louisiana as a child, despite acknowledging that knowledge of the presence and habits of alligators, rattlesnakes, copperheads and water mocassins were part of my youthful lexicon.
No, Tikka and I were not out for a hike around Knoxville. If there are alligators on the trails in the Smoky Mountains I truly do not want to know. We were in Arkansas, at Lake Dardanelle, near Russellville, in the area between the Ozark National Forest and the Oachita National Forest. We were really just passing through; having pulled off the highway on a whim, we discovered Bona Dea Trails and Sanctuary. It was a nice place for a mid-day walk after a couple of hours on the road. We took the three mile loop trail, through sometimes dense wooded wetlands, lazy streams, the sounds of insects, frogs and birds. It was green and humid and beautiful. It was completely unfamiliar; not like New York woodlands or wetlands, not like Amazonian wetlands either. It was simply itself, contained and quiet. Tikka with her harness and six-foot leash (maximum by regulation) met toddlers in their harnesses and six foot leashes, a happy party for the small folk. We saw no alligators on the trail, although there were some in the water.
But we really weren't in Arkansas to spend time exploring the national forests, although that could be a vacation well spent. We were on our way to Bentonville for art, to see a Dale Chihuly exhibit, a slightly roundabout route to Texas. And the exhibit was fabulous, filled with things expected and unexpected, with new insights. I was struck by the way some of the familiar forms, the nested vessels above, reminded me of a hollow tree we had seen at Bona Dea, how the familiar can be re-envisioned and become new.
Not everything was beautiful, but everything was fascinating. Perhaps it was the memory of that mid-day walk, but the piece above reminded me of the colors of water and trees, of swampy greens and mosses, of sunlight glistening on wet stones and scales,
Perhaps I am getting better at semi-solo travel, or travel with dog. We have a good routine. We rise early, Tikka eats while I have my coffee and read or write. We take a walk. She loves to ride in the car and her presence reminds me to look for interesting places to stop and stretch our legs. This is a vacation rhythm that suits me well: read, a nice long hike or walk, a mid day or early afternoon siesta, venturing out again, perhaps some time looking at art, or drinking coffee in a café watching the passers-by, another walk. I'm not sure I want to hike all day, or if I do I need a day or rest afterwards. I can't spend a day in a museum or a craft fair either. I grow too easily overwhelmed. I need time to process. But just wandering and sitting, seeing a place, talking to people; this too is just as important as the hike, the art. There is no rush through life. At the moment I can simply relax.
The other daylily bloomed. The photo was taken in the reflective glow of mid-day sun. This particular plant is also recovering from its questionable beginnings, so I am sure it will survive.
The remaining photos are from my trip to Asheville last week. I loved Asheville and will go back. Most of these photos are snippets and small details from my morning walks. As usual, I am not very good at photos that give a sense of the entire place, but of the little bits that draw my eyes, such as these grates in a building Tikka and I walked around every morning and evening. These small details made me smile every time I saw them.
I suppose this is not surprising. When I was 7 my parents took us to the Alhambra. All I remembered of that palace was the detail of one particular tile floor. When I returned as an adult, I saw and admired much more, but I did not feel that I had truly returned to the Alhambra until I found the floor that had haunted my memory for decades.
Art was everywhere, not just in galleries.
Here, I love not only the mural, but the sculpture of cats on the wall. Art of the everyday.
Tikka and I walked through here every morning, and often again in the evening. During the day the stands are populated with artists selling prints, etchings, jewelry, and tie-dyed baby clothes. Both in the early morning silence and during the daily hustle and bustle, it reminded me of many walks in Madrid, of similar venues, and similar gatherings of dawdlers, buyers, and sellers. It felt like home to me in an odd way.
I have an iron just like this, but of course on a more useable scale.
But it wasn't all art and frivolity. I appreciated the availability of trash and recycling receptacles. Attractively designed as well.
The craft fair was fun. Walking around the downtown area, exploring galleries and shops, eating very well, and watching people was also fun. The glass scissors above are by Rick Beck. They are very large, although I don't really give you any references except that they rest upon a table. From my favorite gallery, Blue Sprial 1, where I walked around in a happy daze. Apparently my taste leans more toward studio craft as art, and perhaps the avant-garde.
Or I just like giant scissors and irons.
1. In June I went to the Daylilly Festival at Oakes Daylilies with friends. It poured almost the entire time we were there or I might have shared the adventure with you. Even though I have basically said that I am not planting, at least not planting perennials I did come home with a couple of medium to short daylilies, which I new would happily fit in a couple of bare areas in the front, areas the previous owner had filled with annuals. Two of those daylilies have put out buds, one of them bloomed Wednesday.
Oddly the two daylilies that seem determined to bloom are the two that did not look like they were adapting well. We have had a lot of rain, at least through the first week of July, and these areas were perhaps a little more waterlogged than daylilies prefer. Then again, perhaps it is not odd, a plant, I suppose, like any living thing, wants to reproduce. I wonder if the plant has enough gumption left for me to transplant it, or given that we are currently in a dry period, if it is best to leave it where it is to recover, waiting to transplant in the early fall, before the rains probably recommence.
2. Tikka and I are out on adventure. The contractors have been busy working at my house since yesterday morning. Due to the nature of the work being done, we were asked to vacate for a couple of days, so we have wandered over to Asheville. North Carolina. Tikka is a pretty good travel companion, happy to rest quietly in a hotel room, as long as we stick more or less to our normal routine of meals and walks, which is not difficult to do, and even though summer camp is fun, I think she'd rather go than be left behind.
3. Yesterday evening, the plan had been that I would walk Tikka and then go back out for dinner, but downtown Asheville seems to be a pretty dog-friendly place. Tikka is a very social girl, mostly well-behaved, but social nonetheless, and she loved the opportunity to meet her four-legged compatriots, as well as to stop and say hello to anyone who said "hello cutie" and asked if they could pet her. We were out for a while and somehow ended up stopping at a place with a lovely shaded patio and some nearby musicians. I stayed for dinner without taking Tikka home first. She got her water bowl and settled happily under the table, while our menus were brought out. Yes, our menus, as there was a doggie menu as well. Alas Tikka had already dined, although she might well have preferred a bison burger with quinoa.
4. We had arrived in the early afternoon, after spending an extra hour and a half on the freeway due to an accident in the middle of a construction site, and I was tired and hungry. I found a tapas bar, where I had a lovely glass of chilled Albariño, and a couple of small plates, one of which was the lovely, and delicious, plate of sardines shown above.
5. Sated, and probably foolish, I meandered back to the hotel. I passed a store filled with looms and yarn and fibers for knitting and felting, basket making supplies, dyestuffs, and all kinds of fabulous things. I don't have my own studio set up yet, or my loom, but I am eager to learn and play. I wandered around, contented to let myself remain dazed. I'm not ready for more supplies, I just needed to observe the riches. I kind of like this jumbled photo of multiple looms, looking outward onto the street because it captures my sense of dazed abundance, exactly what I wanted to remember from that first visit.
My midday walk was foolish because I neglected to apply sunscreen when Ileft the hotel to go to lunch, and although I probably only spent about 15 minutes or so in the sun, and another 20-30 following my meal, (already after 3) I did get a sunburn. I had applied sunscreen before leaving Knoxville, since I have a history of melanoma, but that had been hours before, and the altituide is higher as well, although I do not know if it is enough to make a difference. It may be. I recognize that I have been growing more lax over the years with sunscreen, and I do struggle with the issues of burning, vs UVA (more likely implicated in melanoma), vs vitamin D absorption. Although I haven't burnt in day to day activities, I've noticed that even though I apply a broad spectrum sunscreen daily, and wear a sun protective shirt if I work I the yard during the hours when the sun is high, I have gotten a little more color than usual on my arms and chest just from day to day short-term exposure. I've bee lax, and this is a reminder that I need to improve.
For the first time in weeks I feel like my brain is starting to fire on all cylinders again, although there are some lags and sluggish moments. I have not quite caught up on sleep, and I am still too busy to completely unwind, but at least I am no longer packing, no longer feeling quite like I'm backed up against a wall.
I thought I'd entertain you with a couple of photos from Camp Grandma, which happened two weeks ago (in the middle of all that packing). Owen and I stayed in a hotel downtown one weekend, while his parents went off on their own adventures. I could have stayed home amidst the boxes, but frankly thought a hotel would be more relaxing and more fun.
Friday night was Grandma's choice, as I had symphony tickets. I had promised Owen popcorn during the concert, but I don't think there was any popcorn that evening. Some kind of sour candies were a suitable alternative. But before dinner we went to Nama Sushi for dinner. Owen devoured his calamari salad and made good headway with my sashimi platter as well, which was good because I needed the help. We shared thoughts about comparative flavors of the different fish, which was a little more briny, the surprising sweetness on the tongue of certain species, and O was better at remembering which was which than I was. Dinner was followed by the symphony, and Owen had thoughtful comments about the Chopin and the pianist's technique. I agreed with all that but was also amazed because I think I would have struggled more with sitting through 40 minutes of Chopin when I was his age.
The highlight of the evening however was watching the rain and thunderstorm and the downtown lights through the hotel window.
Saturday was Owen's day, and since it rained a good bit we got to do fun hotel things like order room service and watch too much tv. We took Tikka for a walk, went out for burgers for lunch, wandered around the Rossini Festival, put on every year by the Knoxville Opera, where we got to listen to more music and engage in all kinds of fun activities. This was one of the advantages of already being downtown. We were there when the rain stopped, and if we'd had to load ourselves into a car and drive, we probably wouldn't have made it. We were in the movie theater watching Boss Baby when the afternoon floodgates opened however and we did have to make a mad dash from portico to awning to covered walkway before finally making it back to our hotel looking like drowned rats and doubled over with laughter.
It was a fun weekend, relaxing and worth the time. Even if it meant once again packing up until the last possible minute, I'd do it again.
Yesterday was moving day. I posted this photo to facebook; in fact, I posted it twice although that was accidental. It was taken just before the first truckload left my old house and went to my new house:
I don't believe I realized yet how tired I actually was, as I had probably been running on adrenaline for a week or more, that panicked surge compensating for lack of sleep, and sometimes overcompensating and keeping me from sleep when I desperately needed it. Today all my worldly goods, or most of them at least, are at the new house, piled high to the rafters in one room. Tikka and I, and a few belongings, are in temporary housing near my new neighborhood as the new house is not quite ready for occupancy. Tikka is calmer than she was last week, but still clingy, and the exhaustion of the past couple of weeks has caught up with me. I slept 10 hours last night, and although there are things I need to do today, I could easily sleep another 10, or more. Today, the exhaustion shows in the deep circles under my eyes, in the way the full weight of my 58 years, and the stress of moving show on my face, in my aching knees and hips, the bruises on my wrists from lifting and hauling boxes. Today I am tired, but today I am also content.
Two more days and I will walk away from the old house forever. I loved my neighborhood, loved my neighbors, loved my garden. But this is the last photo of that house. There are only a few small tasks to be accomplished before I step fully into transition time, the space between houses, the time in which my only ambition is to have no ambitions. It is a good place to be, and I am privileged to be able to enjoy the opportunity.
(this post was posted twice because I accidentally deleted the photo of the rose from the old house from the fist posting).