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flowering oregano

oreganoflower

My indoor garden is so chaotic and I love it.

watermelon pickle

This is a ramble with no meaning except I felt a need to put fingers to the keyboard and share an experience from this day.  I’ve been saving watermelon rind trying to decide if I will try to make some watermelon pickles. Now, I have never eaten such a pickle in my life though when I was little I used to admire their beauty in big jars on store counters. As a child I ate plenty of the fruit itself. My oldest brother still reminisces about the big ones with the big black seeds. I think I remember watermelons so big I could sit on them. Those are hard to find. Small, round, seedless (and in my humble opinion oftentimes tasteless) has become the store norm. I’ve lost my taste for watermelon flesh though I’ve been buying watermelon slices of late. Not for me but for a certain person in my life who needs to drink more water but doesn’t and so I simply place saucers of sliced cold watermelon in front of him. Hydration is hydration.

But now I have these rinds … and I’m in a creative place in my life right now … and so I told him I might try my hand at pickles. And when this person heard my intentions, he remembered words from a poem. “Reflections on a gift of watermelon pickles,” he said. We looked it up, a poem by John Tobias.  As I began to read it out loud, Steve, who has a wicked memory for poetry, stopped me to say, “I don’t think I’ve ever actually read the poem. I just know those few words.” And so I finished reading the poem and he was silent and when I looked up I saw that he had been moved to tears.

I think my big brother who is near Steve’s age would cry too. Not so my 12-year old friend. Her response to reflections on a life lived would be quite different than people five decades older. This is a rambling post with no photographs because there is no photograph that can compare to the rich imagery embedded throughout the poem … except maybe one day I’ll come across one of those big ol’ watermelons and split it open and let the sun shine on the pink flesh, black seeds and white rind … and maybe that would be an appropriate pairing of image with the following words. We’ll see …

 

Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle Received from a Friend Called Felicity

During that summer
When unicorns were still possible;
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned;
When shiny horse chestnuts
(Hollowed out
Fitted with straws
Crammed with tobacco
Stolen from butts
In family ashtrays)
Were puffed in green lizard silence
While straddling thick branches
Far above and away
From the softening effects
Of civilization;

During that summer–
Which may never have been at all;
But which has become more real
Than the one that was–
Watermelons ruled.

Thick imperial slices
Melting frigidly on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins;
Leaving the best part,
The black bullet seeds,
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wall
Against the wind
Against each other;

And when the ammunition was spent,
There was always another bite:
It was a summer of limitless bites,
Of hungers quickly felt
And quickly forgotten
With the next careless gorging.

The bites are fewer now.
Each one is savored lingeringly,
Swallowed reluctantly.

But in a jar put up by Felicity,
The summer which maybe never was
Has been captured and preserved.
And when we unscrew the lid
And slice off a piece
And let it linger on our tongue:
Unicorns become possible again.

by John Tobias

glass

IMG_20190720_125909993

The amazing work of artist Karen LaMonte on display at the Boston Museum of Fine Art. https://www.karenlamonte.com/

river of life

bradley2

Detail from stained glass window by Margaret Redmond (1867-1948). Located at Trinity Church in the City of Boston and dedicated to her friend and fellow painter Susan Hinckley Bradley (1851-1929). You can read more about Redmond and Bradley here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Margaret_Redmond

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Susan_Hinckley_Bradley

work in progress

bluepeacockvault

With new lighting comes new opportunities to create. Trinity Church in the City of Boston has been updating its interior lighting, and with new light have come revelations so to speak as ceiling artwork once hidden in the shadows comes to life once more as originally conceived in 1877. Of course this provides new photographic opportunities like capturing this lovely blue peacock amidst green vines and rose flowers. We’re at work translating this image into merchandise for the shop. So far, we’ve created a latte mug, a decorative pen and … hold your breath … yes, a silk chiffon scarf is waiting in the wings along with a charming hand mirror. Stop by the shop sometime to see these and other items that capture the unique beauty of this National Historic Landmark and active Episcopal church. https://www.trinitychurchboston.org/visit

here’s hope

IMG_3620

That’s not his name but that’s what he represents. This is one of my littlest cousins, Aiden. His favorite color is red … or at least it used to be. He wrote me a letter (with some loving assistance) asking me about my favorite color. I wrote him back and told him orange … or at least it used to be. When I watch, read and listen to the news, because I have to do that, it can be quite dispiriting to think about the future. But then I can think of this little person with his hands clasped, ready to take on the world. With loving assistance …

iridescent

Charles River Grackle 2017

Revisiting a favorite photo taken a couple of years ago by the Charles River.