Category: Quotidien

  • Five Things Friday

    I'm off my game this week.  I had a minor flare-up of the bronchitis that plagued me most of December, but it does seem to be back under control now.  And it seems I've finished nothing I started.  Even when I think I have indeed finished, I find I was mistaken.

     

    Better therefore to rely on simple things:

    Bulbs

    1.  It has been so warm in Knoxville, despite a few frosts here and there, that my bulbs are all starting to come up early.  I worry that they may still loose their heads.

    January Blossoms

    2. But I can't say that I mind seeing a few things in bloom in the otherwise desolate landscape as we take our morning walks.

    Moises Supervising

    3.  Most of the Christmas decorations have come down and been put away.  I had a lot of fun sorting out various balls and baubles, recalling origins and associations, and lovingly packing them away, a combination of Christmas and Epiphany carols running through my head.

    Grouper

    4. It has also struck me that I've had better fish and seafood since I've come home, cooked in my own kitchen, than I had in Sarasota.  There is something truly sad about that.  Beautiful Grouper, purchased locally and cooked at home with long Japanese eggplant and oyster mushrooms on the side.  I had made an incredible batch of mayonnaise that afternoon with a richly fruity yet mellow olive oil from Lucero.  On a whim, I combined the mayo with grated coconut and ginger and used it as a topping for the fish.  The coconut and ginger brought out the fruitiness of the olive oil, and beautifully enhanced the fish.  Not at all modestly, I will assert it was perfectly cooked, unlike the sad pan-roasted grouper I had in Sarasota at a locale  probably better suited to those who want their fish breaded and baked or fried.

    De-ornamenting

    5.  I've been reminded of this quote from John McPhee, writing about writer's block in the New Yorker.  After confessing that his first drafts may often take the form of an "awful blurting", he goes on to state the following: "Then you put the thing aside.  You get in the car and drive home.  On the way, your mind is still knitting at the words. You think of a better way to say something, a good phrase to correct a certain problem.  Without the drafted version — if it did not exist — you obviously would not be thinking of ways to improve it.  In short, you may actually be writing two or three hours a day, but your mind, in one way or another, is working on it twenty-four hours a day — yes, while you sleep — but only if some sort of draft or earlier version exists.  Until it exists, writing has not really begun."

     

    I've started writing several things this week only to have them all turn out to be awful blurtings.  And my thoughts are still revolving around the paths that those words might eventually take. I suppose also that this post technically only contains four things, as bulbs and flowers could have been combined.  But it is only human to fudge occasionally.

     

    Have a lovely weekend.

     

    Quote from John McPhee, "Draft no. 4," New Yorker, April 29, 2013.

    photos all taken on my iPhone.

     

     

     

     

  • Three Things at Three

    The power was out this morning. I hadn't written my post in advance, which means it didn't get written at all.    Until Now.

    Creche

    These tiny crèche figures make me happy, staring out from the bookcase, like a little secret.

    Toes

    Shimmery turquoise toenails make me happy as well.  I suppose they aren't really a Christmas color.  But they spark joy nonetheless.

    Goat curry

    As does a warm bowl of West Indian style curry.  While I worked at the reception desk at my church this morning, I read the new issue of the Art of Eating, which has gone digital.  As I read about food and spices, I was thinking about cooking, and about the nice bowl of curry that was awaiting my return.  After a morning of work, and a few errands, I was more than happy to curl up on the sofa, in front of a fire on this rainy Thursday, with warm stew and bare toes, thinking about the simple pleasures and the joy they bring.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Cold Season

    I've been struggling with a cold the last 3 or 4 days, and although I have managed to medicate myself and drag myself out to meet obligations, and Tikka has managed to coax me up and down the hills in my neighborhood.  I've not been particularly good about keeping up with planned activities at home.  And so, once again, this poor blog was neglected.  I suppose I was fortunate this time that the upper sinus blockage moved rapidly down to my chest, relieving me of that mind numbing agony where the slightest movement feels like your head will explode, blasting a hole straight through the roof.  Instead I was blessed with the stage where the slightest movement would induce paroxysms of body-wracking coughs. 

     

    Blessing? Yes.  Once I found a suitable position, I could be fairly comfortable.  And the most comfortable position, sitting in a comfy chair with my head slightly tilted, proved excellent for doing needlepoint. And so I worked on this small piece, seen here through the lens of my magnifying light.

     

    Needlepoint1

     

    It is not yet finished.  Day 4 promises to be the day of the kleenex, making it not such a good day for needlepoint.   But I am running late,  Tikka is ready for her walk, and the world awaits.  Perhaps later I shall curl up with a blanket, some tea, and a good book.

     

  • Monday Morning

    Monday Morning.  A fresh pot of coffee.  Quiet anticipation of a relatively restful week. 

     

    At the moment I am actually looking forward with to not doing anything, not going anywhere.  I'm sure that will change, but after an over-scheduled week, a bit of quiet sounds nice.  I would have to say it was not deliberate, but in some part of my psyche it must have been, there must have been some evil-genie involved, the one that always pushes me to do more, to miss nothing.  She'd probably drive me to death if I let her.  But of course, I don't.  The conflicting need for quiet meditation is too strong.  I won't.

    Old flowers 2

    The flowers from last week are fading nicely.  I need to do some rearranging, to remove some spent blossoms, but the roses are drying nicely, and other nice blooms remain.  Memory and promise.

     

    Contemplating the flowers reminds me of the small bits of planting done this past week; hopefully it was not too late.  I managed to plant a couple of roses, a couple of small hydrangeas, some alstroemeria, even a few bulbs.  Planting holds such promise, such anticipation, enough to tide me over the bleakness of winter, and by the time the new growth begins I will once again be thrilled and excited, like a child gazing at the tree on Christmas morning, surrounded by gifts and promises.

      Old roses

    I have to cook one side dish for Thanksgiving.  Although it feels odd not to be cooking, it is not a bad kind of odd.  It may in fact be rather nice.  I anticipate a long walk, a good book or two, some sewing, knitting, or embroidery time.  Oh yes, and some more work in the garden.  I'm not quite caught up on settling the flower beds in for the winter, and there are still some bulbs to plant.  Perhaps I overindulged, just a bit.  Promises, promises.  I hope it is not too late.

     

     

     

  • Sunday and a Concert

    Sunday ended up being a very full, but also very enjoyable day.  I almost missed it though.  Saturday had been my "unplugged" day and I neglected to check my calendar on Sunday morning before going off to the 9 AM church service where I was scheduled to serve as a greeter.  Note to self, even on "unplugged" days, it may be a good idea to at least check my online calendar, to confirm my obligations for the next day before going to bed.  That is a small modification I can live with.

    2015-09-28 20.30.16Luckily I did go home after church, where I promptly was reminded that I had a lunch engagement, a concert, and a party in the evening.  I had about an hour to enjoy a second cup of coffee and do a little reading before heading out the door again.  I decided that coffee and reading were more important than changing out of my church clothes, partly because I was wearing a favorite fall skirt, a skirt purchased simply because I loved the fabric, even though it is not really my colors, and altered to fit more than once in the last couple of years. Also partly because I still have this old-fashioned idea about looking nice for concerts, although it is not, for the most part shared by most concert-goers, most of whom are of my generation or older.  The young, almost always dress up however, and I enjoy seeing the college students in their nice shirts (men) and sparkly dresses and heels.

    Lunch consisted of a rather simple but memorable bowl of chicken soup, something I would like to  try to duplicate.  The soup was basically a clear broth, a generous amount of shredded chicken, and finely shredded scallions and green mango.  The flavor was nicely rounded out with ginger, more than would be needed to be subtle, but less than would make the dish actually spicy.  I suspect that will prove to be a tricky balance to achieve. Alas, as is usual I took no photos.  I am still not particularly comfortable taking photos of my food in restaurants, although those around me seem to have no such scruples.

    2015-09-28 11.11.33The chamber concert was very enjoyable, and admittedly more to my taste than the opening concert of the symphony season had been. The opening piece, Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture  caught me by surprise somewhat as I tend to think of Mendelssohn's work as emphasizing beauty and melody over depth.  The Overture is one of his early works, and it has the lightness and airiness I tend to associate with that period, but in this performance the undulating movement of the opening really captured my attention with a sense of space and presence that remained through the more tumultuous middle section, and settled perfectly into the quiet sense of reflection and awe in the closing notes.  This music seemed to capture so fully this sense of wonder at perfection that has so captivated me this month as I am constantly being slowed and calmed by my perceptions of the sky around me. In the final moments of the Mendelssohn, I felt that same calmness, that same sense of perfection in the moment.

    I also enjoyed the Weber Clarinet Concerto, a piece I know in my bones.  It was not the most compelling performance I have ever heard, but that did not make the performance any less enjoyable.  The clarinet solo was beautifully played by Victor Chávez with elegant phrasing and a richness that captured the song-like qualities of the melody.  The soloist and the orchestra were also well matched and played well together, creating a sense of a conversation being conducted in song that made the piece very enjoyable. 

    Only the Schubert seemed to be a bit of a let down to me, although it seemed like it was the audience's favorite, based solely on the applause and comments around me.  The 2nd Symphony always strikes me as a happy and cheerful piece, and it was, indeed a cheerful performance, luckily one which avoided the all too frequent tendency to make the work too sweet, too wrapped up in the youthful prettiness and innocence.  Some of this was ameliorated by placing some emphasis on the obvious Beethovenian influences, but at the same time I felt the performance was tepid, without the budding dramatizations that Schubert was beginning to  develop in these early symphonies, and at the same time lacking that haunting tenderness that also marks Schubert's work, both early and late.

    Still, it was a good concert, and I left in good cheer, to head off to the opposite side of town to a party.  It was particularly nice to spend time with a group of people after my musical interlude.  Even though we did not speak of music, just chatting and socializing proved to create a good transitional space for mind to settle from the music back to "real" life, satisfying that social pull I always feel after a concert.  

    2015-09-27 19.17.28

    I had to make a quick stop at the grocery store on the way home from the party, where I snapped this photo of the clouds rolling in, a cloud cover that would later fill the sky and make local visibility impossible for those of us who wished to see the lunar eclipse.  Oh well; it seemed like a perfect, if also perfectly exhausting, day anyway.

     

     

  • Soft Summer Neutrals

     

     2015-08-03 20.35.02

     OPI Just Lanai-ing Around

    Laura Mercier Antique Pink

     

     

  • Early Morning

    Imagine sitting in the cool soft morning air, the light brightening with the rising sun, the dew still sparkling on the leaves.   The cool blooms of the hydrangea glow refreshingly in the soft light. You smile, put down your cup of coffee, and head off for your morning walk.  It is 6:30 AM.

    2015-06-22 07.05.50
     

    That was yesterday.  Today the sky is hazy, the air is heavier with humidity, and although the temperature is still only in the 70s, the word refreshing does not come to mind.  It is 6:30 and you are not particularly looking forward to this walk, but you go anyway. 

    Upon your return the light reflected on the hydrangea seems like a cool breeze welcoming you home.

  • People First

    My mom is visiting for a few weeks.

    2015-05-21 07.52.20

    Blogging will be somewhat random.

     

  • Lonely Tulip

     

    2015-04-20 08.36.31

    I've been walking by this pile of brush awaiting pickup for a couple of weeks now.  This past weekend an errant tulip, near the top of pile, about 2 1/2 feet above the ground, made a last ditch effort at glory.