3rd House Journal

Jamaica Pond, late September

[Jamaica Pond, Jamaica Plain, Boston; 9/26/09; click to see larger]

Before heading back into town on Saturday after the Jamaica Plain Open Studios event, we walked along Jamaica Pond, part of Boston's Emerald Necklace, designed by Frederick Law Olmstead (who also designed New York's Central Park). I've blogged about walking around Jamaica Pond before (see A Fine Kettle of Fish), which I visited last February as well as the prior January (photos here) when the pond was frozen. This time, just before dusk on a late September afternoon, there were a couple of sailboats and a rowboat on the pond. As in winter, joggers and dog-walkers circled the mile and a half around the pond. We noticed one gull standing on a rock at the waters edge near a sleeping duck. Then we saw that there was an entire encampment of sleeping ducks camouflaged in the dirt along the shoreline. Had they designated the gull as sentinel? Moving in a bit closer, we watched one duck, head snugged onto its back, opening and closing an eye on us, so we moved on to leave them to their naps. (And, I might add, heading home for our own.)

Soft weekend

[Leaf, Habitat Wildlife Sanctuary; 11:30am, 6/20/09]

For most of the weekend, a light drizzle occupied the air, too light to be considered falling. On Sunday, we put up an umbrella briefly, then traded it for our hoods, the better to pull up or down as we ducked in and out of shops. The Irish call it a soft day. The Urban Dictionary calls a soft day a day with no edges.

If there were edges, they were high in the sky, to be squinted at during cloudbreaks.

[A view from Boston's Back Bay; 5pm, 6/20/09]

There was a brief break in the endless clouds and rain on Friday evening. After dinner with a friend in Cambridge, the sun broke through and we walked along brick residential sidewalks admiring the gardens (very green, with rain-drunken blooms) and lovely porches. On Saturday, the sun did battle with the clouds, gaining the upper hand early only to lose it at the end of the day. At least it was dry and bright enough for awhile to bring one turtle out to "sun" at the eponymous Turtle Pond in the local Audubon sanctuary.

[Painted turtle at Turtle Pond; 11am, 6/20/09]

Nearby, the bullfrogs were also busy bellowing (a former colleague called Habitat "frog heaven").

It was a nice soft weekend for me, no timetable, no plans but last-minute - duck into a warm cellar-hole of a restaurant for dinner, couch-potato the rest of the evening, watching movies on the HDTV. On Sunday, we did wander out to see Up - in 3D! Wonderful movie. (A quick Google search says I'm not the only one who thinks the main character looks like Spencer Tracy!) We joked about a woman who promptly quit her job after seeing the movie, but really it did have a powerful message about taking stock of what's important in life.

We've all been complaining mightily about the bleak June weather we've had here in Boston, but it's hard to complain about a weekend with no hard edges.

Outside my window (2)

[6:15 pm, 4/27/09]

Spring preview

[Magnolia blossom, Arnold Arboretum; 2:30pm, 4/19/09]

I met a friend at the Arboretum on Sunday afternoon. It was sunny, but still chilly, and most of the spring blooms were still in pre-production - the cherry and dogwoods bearing tight-fisted buds with just a few petals escaping. The showy magnolias took advantage of the others' restraint to claim all attention to themselves for the moment, competing only with the forsythia, which while unimpressive in singles staged an arresting display when ganged up beneath Bussey Hill.

[Forsythia, Bussey Hill]

Likewise the scilla marched across the open landscape between shadows of still-bare horse chestnuts and cork trees.

[Blue scilla in the groves]

Visitors were also few, like patrons sneaking into the theater hours before the show to sit in the quiet and watch the stage hands put the finishing touches on the set.

Meanwhile, back in Boston...

[Spring crocuses, lawn in Brookline, MA; 10am, 3/15/09]

I met my walking group on Beacon St. in Brookline this morning to do the "Secret Stairways and Paths in Brookline" walk (from Walk Boston). I'm glad I went (I blew off yesterday's walk around Charlestown, for lack of energy and to do things like my taxes...). It's been warm this weekend - around 50s(F) - and spring is just around the corner, although we all know that snow can still fall (we've had snowstorms in early April). The surest sign of spring, of course, is the crocuses, of which we saw plenty.

Yesterday, I took a walk through the local wildlife sanctuary, where the woods hold onto winter a bit longer than in the city. Many of the paths were still snow-covered, but the ice is melting and the gray-brown branches show hints of green. It won't be long now.

[At Habitat Wildlife Sanctuary, Belmont; 12:30pm, 3/14/09]
 

Reading the trees

[Birch stand, Habitat Wildlife Sanctuary; 2:30pm, 1/24/09]

Birch is a Celtic symbol of growth and renewal, adaptability.

However, according to Celtic Tree Astrology, I am a Vine: "changeable and unpredictable... full of contradictions... There are, however, areas in your life that you are quite sure about. These include the finer things of life like food, wine, music, and art... You have very distinctive taste, and are a connoisseur of refinement. Luxury agrees with you" (Oh, if only!)

Today I'm feeling a need to go within. Just so long as I don't get stuck there.

[Twisty tree; 2:45pm, 1/24/09; click to see larger]

---

Last night I went to see Man on Wire, which I've been wanting to see since it was released. Utterly fascinating story, and well told. That kind of singular creative passion is inspiring (but really no less so than my colleague's slightly more modest passion for stained glass, which I aluded to in the previous post). Inspiring but elusive to me. I sometimes feel like parched sticks waiting for a match.

New Year's Day 2009

[Highland Farm Meadow, Habitat Wildlife Sanctuary; 3:30pm, 1/1/09]

All day, brilliant sunshine streamed into my apartment. I puttered around, cleaning up the debris of travels and various dregs of 2008. I made Moroccan stew for lunch with the vegetables I'd bought for New Year's Eve in case I was stuck inside with the snowstorm (it cleared enough to go out and meet a friend for dinner, albeit on a street swirling with blown snow, Zhivago-like). I contemplated the Christmas tree, which should come down and be put out on the snowbank for Friday's trash pickup. Taking it down would remind me of putting it up, the shared negotiations of preferred placement, hand-offs of strands of garland and lights, the early weaving of romance soon thereafter cut short. I put it off.

[On Wellington Hill, Habitat Wildlife Sanctuary; 3:15pm, 1/1/09]

Mid-afternoon, I put long underwear on under my jeans, wool socks, a wool turtleneck sweater, my new hooded parka and warm snow boots, and drove over to the wildlife sanctuary. Cross-country skiers had tracked the trails, along with others like me tromping out in boots. I got very warm and unzipped my jacket, then very cold and zipped it all back up, depending on the direction of the wind and ups and downs of the terrain.

[On Highland Farm loop]

Positive thinking is all well and good, but only the gods are allowed perfection and then only sometimes. I've been thinking of this as I read exhortations to plot out our New Year's goals and to blast away negative thoughts that prevent us from manifesting our desires. What horseshit. Okay, not total horseshit - it's always good to examine how we get in our own way, including holding beliefs that we can't do something, and so forth. But to imagine that we have so much control over our destiny is hubris. And to think we can will away the old hurts and fears even when we know them clearly, leave them in the dust as we ride shining new into our future, is to set ourselves up for pain and confusion later when we find life doesn't cooperate, and the feelings we thought we left in the dust are still there and madder than ever at being ignored and stuffed away. Maybe they simply need to be accepted, along with accepting that whether or not life turns out as we hoped has little to do with perfecting ourselves.

[Potting shed; Habitat Wildlife Sanctuary]

I took down the tree last night after a long phone date with someone I'll meet for coffee later this weekend. It went easier than expected! There are things I want to renew a commitment to this year, and hopes and dreams that will or won't be fulfilled. Unanticipated joys and sorrows will appear suddenly in frame, detours and meanderings, and I will learn new things, meet new people, see new sights, see old sights anew. At 50, you realize life is short and you're not going to be given a new set of cards to play with, so you work with those you have as they grow less shiny and slippery and more textured and flexible.

---

Heh, just read Relatively Retiring's post, wishing us a Happy and Obscure New Year. Perfect.

Etchings

[Surface of Turtle Pond; 10:15am, 12/13/08]

Bwaahhhhhh!

[On Peter's Hill at the Arnold Arboretum; 4pm, 11/9/08]

Doesn't it look like it's about to chuck apples at you at any minute? Except that it's not an apple tree (anyone identify it? I didn't get close enough to read the tag!).

In the movie version of the Wizard of Oz, the Fighting Trees hurl apples at the journeyers, but in the book they just pick the travelers up and toss them:

The Scarecrow, who was in the lead, finally discovered a big tree with such wide-spreading branches that there was room for the party to pass underneath. So he walked forward to the tree, but just as he came under the first branches they bent down and twined around him, and the next minute he was raised from the ground and flung headlong among his fellow travelers.

This tree we saw at the Arnold Arboretum on Sunday certainly looks capable of it. As they say of the villains in the telenovelas, es capaz de todo.

Coloring outside the lines

[Weeks Pond, Habitat Wildlife Sanctuary; 11:30pm, 11/8/08]

I've always had conflicting tendencies - one side wanting to be good and keep within the lines (Virgo Sun square Saturn) and the other thrilling in the subversive and creative (Leo Moon & Ascendant conjunct Uranus). The two sides have often been difficult to reconcile, though ideally they work together to bring the creative inspiration into form. My initial attraction to astrology, in fact, lies in its validation of the various conflicting sides of my own nature. Of course, at middle age, I find it a little less necessary to have that external validation of my right to exist just as I am.


[Weeks Pond, Habitat Wildlife Sanctuary]

Nature has never had this emotional need to validate its existence (although its right to exist just as it is is very much under threat from the needs of humans). It colors outside the lines drawn by humans, shooting up through cracks in sidewalks, wending its vines around telephone poles, and tossing its leaves willy-nilly across lawns and streets, to name a few very mild subversions. Sometimes it quietly goes a step further to show just how much it thinks of our laws and lines.

[On Somerset Road, outside of the wildlife sanctuary]