An NYC Moment in Our Little Village

Last year, I wrote about a “Quiet Country” moment that I experienced while chaperoning a high school music department trip to NYC. (You can read that old post here.) This morning, I experienced the opposite. It is our town’s annual summer festival and this morning was the parade. Unfortunately, a huge rain shower was also on the agenda for the morning. I saw the clouds and grabbed an umbrella as we headed out to the parade. Limerick was at an estate sale, Senryu was working at the coffee house in the village, and the three younger kids and I were fortunate to be invited under a tent where a fund raiser was being run to watch the parade.

As the parade began, fierce torrents of rain began to fall. High winds whipped the cold rain along the street and even the “tent” (really just a roof) did not offer protection. Just then, a little man with a cart full of umbrellas began to walk along the street hawking his wares. “Umbrellas! Six Dollars!” he called out, walking close to the crowds that lined the street. His presence took me back 26 years to my first time in New York City. As I was shopping with my classmates, all those years ago, a sudden, unexpected rain began to fall. Umbrella vendors appeared out of nowhere, like steam rising from the manhole covers. The umbrella I used until about 2 years ago was the small black collapsible model that I purchased that day in the rain.

This morning, the rain continued throughout the parade, letting up to just a drizzle as the last of the fire trucks rolled noisily down Main Street. Haiku and I took two shivering little boys into the coffee house, where Senryu and her co-workers were busily catering to demands for hot beverages. We added two hot chocolates and two hot coffees to their workload, and then with our cups of comfort in hand, walked to the other side of the village where our car was parked.

And there you have it: a story about nothing. Wherever you are, whatever the weather, I wish you comfort and contentment.

A Sunday Stroll - Rain from a Late Morning Storm

Even the intense heat of the day - the kind of heat that keeps everyone indoors and kindles tempers - was not enough to dry all of the rain from a late morning storm from the earth and flowers in the garden. I walked the trail for a while, lingering in the shade near the moon garden. Tiny butterflies and buzzing insects kept me company, while the hot wind lifted the tree branches, changing the pattern of light that fell across the garden.

photos by Aisling, July 8, 2007 1) White Phlox, cultivar David, just coming into bloom 2) An "Easter" lily, still holding the rain from a late morning storm 3) a butterfly on the blue scabiosa (pincushion flower.) 4) Echinacea (purple cone flower) 5) Orange Day Lily

Replenishment...

On Monday, a sultry breeze greeted me as I took my morning walk through the gardens. The wind grew stronger as the day went on, bringing with it across the lake waves and waves of heat and a strange sense of foreboding. A storm was churning far away in the west, but we could feel it moving toward us all day long.

The kids and I went to a local nursery to see if the "bargain bin" had been set up for the year yet. It had not, but there were vegetable plants available at a reduced price. We selected mostly herbs and a pepper plant that already had baby banana peppers appearing and then headed home. I called the nursery to let them know that the garden bench in the pavillion by the shrubs and trees no longer had a price (as evidenced by the yellow tag in Tanka's hand) and that the lovely bronze fennel was infested with aphids (which they might want to tend to before selling any more plants.) While I was on the phone, the power went out, and the line went dead.

I plugged in the "emergency phone" which does not require electricity to call the nursery back, so that I could finish my sentence. Then, I called the power company to report the outage. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon. They estimated that the power would be back up and running by 9 o'clock at night. I was happy to go into "power out" mode, which for me means reading out loud as a family. Unfortunately, my "sales pitch" for Wind in the Willows did not capture the boy's attention. I was astonished and launched into the first chapter with great enthusiasm (it is a read-aloud favorite of mine) but still, they would not listen. Sighing, I went off to read a book on my own.

We ran an errand late in the afternoon, to make sure we would have a dinner that was easy to prepare without electricity. Limerick got home and set up the generator, so the guys had their dinner heated in the microwave. Hiaku and I had mini whole-wheat pita's stuffed with hummus and some fresh ingredients from the herb garden (chives, oregano, cucumber-flavored salad burnett.) We moved the generator around to take care of various tasks and then plugged the large upright freezer in the basement into it, to keep the contents frozen.

I finally talked some family members into a read-aloud, but had to select a book that would appeal to all. I read the first chapter of My Brother, My Sister, and I, by Yoko Kawashima, an autobiographical account set in post World War II Japan. As we concluded the chapter, several household items blipped and chirped, the electronic announcement that power had been restored forty-five minutes ahead of "schedule."

Through this all, the wind blew wildly, but the rain never came. Late in the evening, with sand and dust from the road blowing in my eyes, I watered my recently planted blueberry bushes. I slept soundly all night, never waking, which is unusual for me. When I woke before 6 A.M., I saw a world washed clean of dust and grime, through droplets trickling down the window glass. The much needed rain had fallen heavily as we slept and today the sun is shining on wet green fields, 20 degrees cooler than they were yesterday, and replenished by the nourishing rain.

photo by Aisling, June 19, 2007, Blanket flower drenched with rain

The Blues (or Songs about Monday)...

Have you ever noticed that most songs about Monday disparage the day? I have been humming two songs alternatively all day: Rainy Days and Mondays by the Carpenters and I Don't Like Mondays by The Boomtown Rats. Different decades? Yes. Different genres? Yes. But both complain about that day of the week when we get back to the workday routine.

Once upon a time when we were a homeschooling family, I loved Mondays. Though weekends were less structured and more varied, I loved the rhythm of our homeschooling days. Mondays were music days. For a while, when my daughters were in early elementary, we had violin and flute lessons on Monday. When they decided that formal instruction was no longer their "thing" we still had music on Mondays. When morning read alouds were done, and all of our table work and computer tasks completed, we would put some (usually classical) music on the CD player and learn about the composer and his or her time in history. Or we would have an art appreciation hour, full of sketching and daydreaming, while artful music played.

Now that we are not homeschooling, Mondays are more hurried, more filled with the pressure of being somewhere on time with all of the right gear on hand. Today I substituted for a secretary in the elementary school office and we had to be on the road a little earlier than we are on the days when I volunteer in the school library. We managed to be there in plenty time, despite fog... despite it being Monday. I actually really enjoyed myself. The atmosphere in the school is very cheerful... there only a few more days before summer vacation, after all!

As I write this, rain is falling. Like me humming two different songs about Monday, the day has vacillated between two different genres of wet and gray: rain, then mist, then back to rain again. I'm putting on some music as I finish posting this, to chase away the last remnants of the Monday Blues. Now if only I can decide between Classic Stressbusters or The Clash!

These are photos of some of the blues in my butterfly garden taken today, between the rains: 1) Skywings Iris, after which my butterfly garden is named (yes, I name everything!) 2)Lilac and Violet Iris from a friend, cultivar unknown 3)Deep Purple Viola's that were hiding in a pot of aquilegia I purchased last month. All photos by Aisling, June 4, 2007

The Rose Moon...

Heavy clouds obscured another month's full moon on Friday. This moon, according to my favorite source, is the Rose Moon. The roses in Haiku's garden (she is the rose gardener in the family) are in bud and will certainly begin to bloom during the month of June, so this moon name seems appropriate. Since the roses are not yet blooming, the photos today are from some of the other blossoms in my various gardens after last night's much-needed rain.

photo 1) Scarlett O'Hara in the front garden... again! 2) Wild Jasmine Iris in Mariah's Garden

3) River Hawk Iris in the butterfly garden 4) Blue Flax in Haiku's Rose and Herb Garden