Arbor Day Ardor

Happy Arbor Day!

I support the sentiment, the mission of the holiday, and so I post ... even though I made no photos of any trees, per se - does a shrub count? It should! Shrubs have most of the characteristics of trees, don't they? It's not their fault if they're shorter and more squat; no reason to exclude them, I say.

And so, here is the lilac, budding away on the terrace, despite regular neglect (too much else going on). I fear I may miss the bloom while I am away. That would be fitting revenge for the neglect. Thought I would at least capture the buds - enjoy the Jardin in images forevermore, even if barely temporally and in real life.

In preparation for my absence, and the coming rainy days, it also seemed a good time to move the geranium start that rooted in water over Winter to the outdoors. It became infected with spider mites from the overwintering jasmine, so the leaves are no longer as vibrantly green and turgid as they once were. But maybe the bracing chill and wet rains will eradicate the mites and harden up the geranium.

The jasmine, too, also was cast outside. It should be ok; we should be past the frost date. Fingers crossed for a full recovery for all of the afflicted.

Charming Charleston

Girls' getaway weekend to Charleston.

These girls, my oldest continuous friends, whom I've known since I was 14 and 16 - we've been friends now for triple the length of time that we weren't friends - I finally got to see them all together, in person, after the longest period of separation we've had.

COVID - darn COVID.

Three of us have had surgeries since last we got together; two of them almost died; two of us closed the chapter of hope on motherhood. None of that was COVID related. COVID just made it harder.

But we got ourselves to Charleston. And picked up where we left off.

Photo essay suitable for public consumption follows, to mark our reunion.
 

[Completed July 22, 2023.]

Comparative Hell

An exhibit of depictions of hell at the Asia Society.

The ability of the human imagination to depict horrors and unspeakable things using the most vivid colors and artistic techniques can be quite jarring. It's more horrifying still to think that some of the art might be based on reality - tortures that human beings inflicted upon each other. Take away the terror and suffering portions, and the backgrounds are quite beautiful. Lots of tension in the juxtaposition.

I caught the exhibit on one of its final weekends, and a suitably hot and steamy one (better to invoke the hell). I had hoped the Asia Society was one of the institutions supported by my BigBank employer, but no such luck. I'll still take it, though. There are plenty of other perks - not least of which is the freedom to go and see art on the weekends without feeling pressured by work obligations, as compared to the BigLaw gig. So, we won't say employment quite rises to comparative hells, per se, but comparative restraints is probably accurate.

[Completed August 25, 2023.]

Whole Different Energy

The warmth ushers in a flush of new life in the trees, the people, the city.

Seemingly overnight, coinciding with our remarkably warm temperatures, the cherry trees went into full bloom in Carl Schurz Park and in the neighborhood tree pits.

The warmth drew me out, compelling me to walk more (that, and upcoming vacations, incentivizing me to shed the winter weight) and to seize the moments and socialize outside. I had dinner out with Sissy.

And the day before, I met former colleagues out at Bryant Park. One of them was from my last workplace, from where I recently marked the first anniversary of my departure. She asked if I am happy; I replied in the affirmative, and she said I looked it - that I had a whole different energy about me as compared to before.

Easter Weekend 2023 - Resurrections, Of Sorts

Snippets from Easter weekend, and life triumphing over death.

Primroses, among the first to awaken from the frozen Winter earth to harken the life of the coming seasons.

The way I had envisioned our secular Confucian Buddhist family's Easter/Passover/Ramadan weekend would have featured a Sunday morning highlight of recreating the idyllic egg dyeing ritual from childhood - for our Christian friends, followed by a late lunch (after a morning fast - for our Muslim friends) first meal that would include matzo ball soup (for our Jewish friends) and jammy eggs - you know, a multi culti nod to all those folks who had religious observances that gave us non- celebrants an occasion, and a long weekend, to gather as a family. That wasn't how it turned out.

Our actual Easter Sunday lunch - reheated pizza (more on that below), sauteed green beans (from the on the cusp remnants of Sissy's produce drawer, I believe), and frozen mussels that had languished in a freezer for years waiting to be tried. So, keeping with the theme of the holy days weekend, all of the food was "resurrected," in one manner or another.

Instead, somehow that vision morphed into opening the weekend by going to visit Ong Noi's (paternal grandfather's) grave for ritual family "tomb sweeping," ...

...because the Qingming Festival day fell within a week of the Big Three Holidays. And since we were in our old neighborhood, that became a mission to have Alba's pizza (as good as we remembered from childhood)...

... at the cemetery, among the graves - because where else would we find easier parking? Admittedly, this sacrilege was my brainchild.

The rest of the weekend involved moving and rearranging furniture across our various separate households, sprucing up Lil' Bro's space AND the Mothership guestroom ahead of upcoming May visitors, and in the process, extracting an ancient, and really freaking heavy, bulky, awkward boob tube TV - with ratchet straps, sliding it slowly down carpeted stairs, around furniture and structural obstacles, placing total faith and complete reliance in the durability of the straps and the strength of my and Sissy's puny arms to prevent the accidental infliction of death-by-runaway-TV upon the unlucky bottom-of-the-stairs position taken up by comparatively big and strong Lil' Bro 😬😁.

This, and its sibling plants in the remaining photos, blooming in the Mother Garden.

And all of this culminated at 1 am, before the start of the Easter Monday (unobserved) work day, which was, coincidentally, also fittingly, national Siblings Day! Who better to be ensnared with in all these whackadoodle schemes than my two other musketeers. We are the driving force, now, in getting things done at the Mothership, the next generation orchestrating a slow takeover, and thank goodness for having partners in crime - to share the load, and the joy.

 

[Finally completed August 26, 2023.]

Stormy...

Weather, woman, politics, mood.

This photo was from earlier this evening, as I arrived home, feeling some distinct, fat drops of rain during my walk, hoping I could beat the anticipated deluge. Then, once home, rushing out to plant a few stray peas from yesterday before losing the last light, now hoping for the precipitation. (It didn't come, after all. We had a record warm day, but the storms passed just south. And now no rain forecast for ten days, which does not bode so well for the peas, or any of the other plants.)

The tagline also works for an unprecedented national news event from earlier this week. I am so tired of that man.

Apt as well for my mood upon watching the news and learning of the expulsion in Tennessee of two legislators and attempt against a third by a bullying supermajority who disagree with the ousted on sensible gun control. The divide in this country seems so vast at times, unbridgeable. But that cannot be. So then I stop and wonder whether my positions are hardened by echoes bouncing off a chamber, and try more concertedly to listen for other perspectives.  That would seem to be the civil thing to do. Now if only politicians could feel less threatened, less entitled, less entrenched, and afford each other the same courtesies and find the common ground and move us all just a little bit farther along the arc of history.

With that said, I have a girls' trip coming up. And I never have been to Nashville, nor Memphis, and Nashville's got such a reputation for being a fun women's weekend destination. We decided on someplace else instead. With tonight's developments, I am glad not to spend any money in Tennessee.

[Edited to completion April 7, 2023.]

Sow Late

Better late than never Spring plantings.

Peas, soaking in a cup - supposedly that gives them a head start on direct-sow germination.

Finally, finally got around to sowing something, anything. It was the sugar snap peas. Because I love them so.

These seeds are my own, meaning they were purchased commercially; they were the products of peas that went too long on the vine last year in the Jardin. So, no quality control, no testing of germination rates. Just a little soaking, and in they went. Precipitation anticipated for planting day +1 and +2 to help them along. Results TBD. Just as DIY gardening is supposed to be, right?

So much to do in the Jardin. So much has been deferred. Not sure how I got into this cycle of deferred maintenance, but I did, and must now dig myself out. Project in progress.

Found the time for these peas because I worked from home, on a day I wouldn't normally. But I was called in on a day that would normally have been a work from home day, so I decided to reclaim one of the others. And really, with the shortened week, I could have claimed two, but it happens that I need to be in for in person meetings on three days. It's fine. Because work from home still feels like a bonus. Perhaps, though, I should adopt my officemate's approach and do just what is required. She somehow largely manages to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule. I need to try harder at that. Though loosey works better for me. So in my world, it'll be trying to stick to 8 hours, and not allow myself to be cheated of the lifestyle I was promised. I need to rephrase that: I mustn't cheat myself of my life.

Around my second year in practice, when the economy started to pick up post 9/11 and people in my law firm class started to leave, one woman, who had kids already, said she was going in-house for the better hours, because the job wasn't her life, it was just a means to support her real life. I was quite late in really absorbing that and acting on it. I am a slow learner, clearly. And still trying to implement and execute. Again, a work in progress.

[Edited April 6, 2023 to completion.]

No April Fool Here

Chasing sun and warmth this first April weekend.

From a walk through Central Park, bidding friends adieu on the Upper Westside, heading home to the Upper Eastside.

The lead up to Easter and Passover week brought faraway friends to town, a lovely opportunity to catch up, touch base, gain perspective.

The Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges from the Astoria ferry (that actually ends its route in Yorkville).

And with local friends, too. It used to be, before kids, that we locals gathered regularly. The children are growing up now and have their own demands and activities and schedules - becoming full formed human beings. I think we all miss some parts of the old days. The little rugrats are such spice, though. Wouldn't give them up. They say that with children the days are long but the years are short. I only get to experience them in years, so - oh my word! - the years FLY.

Looking back to the start of the route in the Financial District.

It just underscores the imperative to be present, to seize all the moments. To venture downtown even when the weather seems inclement and some of the friends less familiar, to ignore the insecure awkwardness of perhaps being a polite add-on. Friendships deepen with each encounter. 

And nimbleness, and grace, and flexibility, compassion for changing locations and times are minor, minor in the broader scheme.

Brooklyn waterfront, with the crane pointing at the afternoon moon.

Listening, learning, catching the nuggets are what it's about. Hearing your nomadic friend share her tale of falling in love with another nomad - how it is perfect precisely because it is so temporary and fleeting, and has no roots. Realizing how addictive that version of love can be for the nomads, maybe for anyone.

Realizing, also, how ill suited for one who craves stability. The Other might be wonderful in so many ways, yet still be a poor match. How finding that right mix between nimble rootedness might be the proper balance - maybe to live like a succulent, easy to root in harsh soils, able to survive uprooted for a time on stores of water in fleshy leaves, and then to set down roots into the earth on finding a hospitable spot, but capable of withstanding being dug up and relocated.

Leftover charcuterie platter for dinner. I had brought it to share - a bargain found on Sis's and my first trip to the Brooklyn Wegman's, after our Ikea run for free cake. The host said they wouldn't eat the leftovers, so, heck, I took them home. The key to successful potlucking is to bring things you yourself would love to take home.

My current working hypothesis is that eldests crave stability - because being pushed out front and having to figure out the rules is a stressor one does not easily outgrow. Being drawn to a nomad, though, is a hedge - a true nomad, however, would be unsatisfying. Middles, perhaps, rebel against the paths set by eldests, and, hence, become somewhat nomadic, and able to connect easily for all the bridging that they do. Youngests are just happy go lucky, secure in the way and the support that surrounds them. 

Innate leanings, maybe. But then, awareness, and then adaptability, are key...

... When the rain stops and the sun shines, opt for the ferry over the subway. When the sun stays and the afternoon finally hints at warmth, opt for a walk through Central Park over the bus.

[Edited to completion April 6, 2023.]