Quaking (in Her Roots)

Mother Nature shaking it all up - earthquake edition.

Mother Earth is just shaking it up all over the place today. The breaking news of the morning was a 4.8 magnitude earthquake centered in western New Jersey, felt up to 300 miles away, and definitely 45 miles from Tewksbury here in Yorkville. Working from home, the entire apartment vibrated and lightly rattled, visibly moving. It was evident pretty quickly that it was an earthquake (and I got confirmations back on Facebook right away). Then at 6pm, a 4.0 aftershock - felt that one distinctly, too.

Not my first rodeo. First one was a legit California one when I was in my teens, circa 1991, on a family trip, in a sleeping bag on my uncle's living room floor, the dining room chandelier swaying before us, as my cousin came from his room and stood under the door frame. My second was around 2011, the last big east coast one - I was on a recruiting trip and not far from the epicenter.

So this one, all told, was not so bad. Back in 2011, another California cousin shook her head at the New Yorkers streaming into the streets - exposing themselves to the risk of falling glass. I told her that, tremors being rare here, when our buildings shake, we worry a plane has flown into it. Today, safe in my apartment, I knew it wasn't a plane, at least - some psychological comfort courtesy of post-COVID work changes.

In the domestic plant world, Mother Nature shook up some of my expectations - life and renewal, where I thought there was failure and death. 

Out in the Jardin, three young upstarts are leafing out from the roots of what I thought were a dead tricolor peach tree. In the small rosemary pot, where the original rosemary finally succumbed, I stuck a twig - that looks like it has hope of leaf buds? It looks a bit like a miniature rose twig; but maybe it's a rosemary twig? Must try to label better. Anyway, will wait and see.

Indoors, the petulant Thai lime. I really was quite good about watering this Winter. But midway through, the leaves just started to shrivel. I kept with regular watering, and it seems to be growing new, fresh chartreuse. Thank goodness.

In the bathroom was the morning's first surprise - before the earthquake rolled in. The jasmine that came in for Winter, and originally up atop the medicine cabinet where it lacked light and was hard to water, had, I thought, dried up and died, the soil hydrophobic. I gave up watering regularly, but threw a few drops here and there. But that shoot! That is definitely life trying to assert itself - hooray!

Happy for roots to dig deep and Mother Nature to shake me up with happy surprises🌱.

(Co)existence

Conservation and conflicting conscience.

Earlier this week, I returned to Florida to meet with a client I traveled to see last year - a real estate developer of beautiful condominiums, in this case, situated by a conservation area.

The contrast of luxury, state of the art human residences set amid what would otherwise be the wild, natural home of birds and other untamed creatures is not lost on me at all. 

That this swampy land and water is so accessible adds invaluably to the appeal of the development - for me, anyway.

The buildings are done; if not by this client, other construction would rise on this site. We humans will want to live in pretty little palaces close to nature (or the "lite" version of nature that most of us crave). I feel some conflict. But I would not let the conservation area be lost for all the world; I enjoy it so. And I suppose that's always been the point of conservation - to highlight the treasures so we treasure them more, in hopes we leave the rest free.

Would it be compatible with human nature to just let it all be if we didn't already know firsthand the consequences of our darker inclinations toward greed and control and possession and subjugation? I don't know. Because the manifestation and consequences of all of those traits preceded all of us here today; I don't know that we could ever know if we could just BE and let be with what is around us. To some degree, our survival and progress depended on our not letting anything be, right?

But now that we know better, hopefully we will endeavor to do better.

International Women's Day 2024

Far, but not far enough. Yet.

Lena Horne Theater, venue of "Six."

On this day and celebration of women and spotlight on our progress, but also conversely on our traditional place and plight in the world, a throwback to images taken a few weeks ago, on the evening Sis and I saw "Six" - about the six wives of Henry VIII - during Broadway Week. Creative telling of the events of the reign from the queens' perspective, which, of course, is not how we learned it in school... herstory, rather than history. These six women who were political pawns, who were both passive and active participants in the most powerful courts of their time, whose value and power was both elevated and reduced by their ability to bear children who could and would be heirs to the throne held by a man.

Lena Horne Theater, venue of "Six."

And today, centuries later, we continue to wrestle with essentially that. Power struggles and wars instigated by men who use sex as a tool and weapon, with women as the involuntary subjugants, the children they bear and nurture as the collateral unto whom to perpetrate damage, still mere pawns too often.

Even as we begin to gain agency, so frequently that causes fear and insecurity among men, and a backlash is unleashed - the eggs and embryos that we carry overvalued when expedient, while our bodily autonomy and rights are discounted when convenient for others.

And as if collateralization and commodification of our and our children's personhoods weren't enough, heavily male-dominated governments politicize the availability of sustenance to boot - food and water as means to maintain control and dependence. Today, air-dropped pallets of food aid fell too fast under faulty parachutes and killed hungry people.

The Fantastic World of the Portuguese Sardine at Times Square.

An oft-used proverb is "Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." 

The Fantastic World of the Portuguese Sardine at Times Square.

I suspect that if women were taught to fish, they would feed themselves and their own children, share with other women and their children, and likely with many men, too, for all their lives.

The Fantastic World of the Portuguese Sardine at Times Square.

 

 

Seen

One doesn't always realize an omission, until shown how things COULD look. And it's one thing to see a people as depicted by others, entirely different to see self-depictions and participation in art movements (that I previously assumed were limited to white artists).

Titanique

Back in the day, I visited Gramercy regularly. Way back in the day, before I could afford to partake of what Gramercy had to offer, school was not far from there and my life was on its fringes.

Yesterday, when the sunset was reflected off the Chrysler Building looking uptown (toward another area and another era of my past life), I got to enjoy my current life - that of more reasonable work schedules, allowing for dinner before a show on a "weeknight." The intellectual substance of my work hasn't changed over the last couple of years, the types of clients haven't changed, but in other aspects, the changes feel titanic.

"My heart will go on..."

Cold Blanket

February snowfall in New York City.

At one point in the morning the snow fell fast and furiously; it was both more and less than what I thought it would be. Cold and wet, heavy, they said. A beautiful, white frosting on all the surfaces. It was the most snow we've had in 746 days. By afternoon it stopped falling, and what had accumulated began to melt and fall off the trees in clumps, leaving the trees bare - marring what had been a pristine white blanket.

Superb Owl(?) Sunday LVIII

Super Bowl Sunday with a gardening bent, on the heels of Tết (Lunar New Year 2024).

Nope, no owls encountered (and certainly no celebrity, resourceful, self-taught city owls); instead, a metal crane and its pond neighbor goose (and some ducks in the background) out in the 'burbs. Nope, not the football spectacle in Clark County, Nevada; instead, Clark Botanic Garden (see how the universe comes together?). There was not much natural botanical interest this early in February, the day after Tết - because, Winter - but we saw a smattering of nature-inspired sculptures, some pretty vistas, and feathered fowl friends. The Clark is a smaller garden compared to the ones we usually visit, but it offered just enough to let the parentals stretch their legs, get outside on a warmer than average day, see someplace new. I think it could be lovely when it awakens in Spring, and it's nearby, and free(!), so will be easy enough to return to in order to check it out in its full glory.

It was a nice diversion before, and maybe subconscious inspiration for, an impromptu stop at our favorite nursery. At some point since we were last there, they revamped their layout; it felt more spacious, a roomier setting to pick up some seeds, check out plants, for Dad to "come up with the idea" to get Mom an orchid for Valentine's Day.

And then we were finally off to Costco for classic game day food - prepared wings and a veggie platter with a ranch dip (I contemplated getting ingredients to cut into crudites and bake for hot wings, then opted for the easy way out; money for time and ease was well spent) -  followed by a mad dash back to the Mothership, arriving just in time for the coin toss. This was, in our collective memory, the first time, or one of the very rare times, we've ever had typical "American" sport watching faire for the Super Bowl; we've either been out at parties hosted by friends or eaten whatever was in the house, and with Mama Hen at the helm, chances are high that would have been home cooked Vietnamese food. This year, with the big game falling the day after Tết when we were already scheduled to be all together (and with Lil' Bro's friends, many also celebrants of the Lunar New Year, still being with their respective families and not taking on hosting duties) was unusual; we decided to make it an actual event for ourselves. The irony of the most important observance and expression of our cultural identity being the impetus for the most assimilated experience yet of our a most quintessentially American cultural ritual is not lost. Anyway, the food was great for the sibs and me; on the other hand, Papa Rooster and Mama Hen didn't quite "get" the appeal of this dining option (she took a few wings, and I believe had them with some leftover rice; inexplicably, considering how strongly fresh herbs and produce feature in Vietnamese cuisine, Mama Hen seemed incredulous about eating vegetables raw - maybe because they were cruciferous?).

Well, parental food incredulity aside, the rest of us had fun munching and watching the expensive commercials and seeing Taylor's boyfriend (ha!) win a nailbiter in overtime. A fairytale rookie football season for Tay-Tay! Alas, no postgame political endorsements on the field (eye roll). Perhaps there will be opportunities for that come Fall.