Gardens in the Concrete Canyons

I love gardens in the City....roof top gardens and gardens carved from unexpected places.  One of my favorite gardens in the City is the Clinton Community Garden.  Hell's Kitchen is pretty chic and pricey now, but as you can imagine from the name, the neighborhood wasn't always this way.

The space below was once a nasty vacant lot with old cars and construction debris strewn about.  The sight of a self-seeded tomato plant on the site inspired community activists to reclaim this long-abandoned City of New York property into the gorgeous neighborhood green space it is today.  Volunteers work in the community garden area or have plots of their own to plant.  You can compost your kitchen waste here, right in the center of New York City.

I saw this little grotto area in a convent just down the street from the Clinton Community Garden.

I have found, through years of practice, that people garden
in order to make something grow; to interact with nature;
to share, to find sanctuary, to heal, to honor the earth,
to leave a mark.  Through gardening, we feel whole as we
make our personal work of art upon our land.
--Julie Moir Messervy, The Inward Garden

Finding Meaning in the Midst of Horror

I visited St. Paul's Chapel the other day.  The chapel stands near the former World Trade Center site in New York City.  You may remember coverage in the news back ten years ago of this historic church which miraculously remained standing after the Twin Towers collapsed.  It stood while George Washington worshipped there and it continued to stand and minister to God's people when the foundations of our very way of life shook.

This was the church that ministered to the rescue workers who went to work in the recovery efforts, day after dusty, discouraging, horrifying day. 

In liturgical churches (such as the Roman Catholic, Episcopal or Greek Orthodox traditions) pastors wear vestments.  Or, as a priest I once knew said to a kid I took to church, "Hey, how do you like my dress?"  One of these garments is called a chausible.  At St. Paul's Church, the pastor wore a red chausible which his mother had made for him. 

No one knows how it started, but one weary cop or firefighter or EMS worker or whomever, took the patch from his uniform and safety-pinned it to the red, hand-made by Mom, chausible.  This cry to find meaning in the midst of unspeakable horror resonated with many of the rescue workers who slept in the venerable old chapel on cots.  One after another they pinned their own patches to the chausible.  And when it become too full to take another patch, they begin to pile them on the floor around it.

The pastor officiated at religious services in the red chausible, the fabric nearly hidden by so many patches from all over the world.  I saw a patch from Tel Aviv, from a German Police Department, The German Red Cross, from Queensland Austrailia, and from every spot in the United States you could think of.  Each represented one person who traveled from far away to stand in solidarity with all of us and found meaning in faith while they were here.

It was one of the most moving things I have ever seen in my life; breathtakingly beautiful in a homey, organic, and from-the-heart kind of way.

A Lime Tree Grows in Manhattan

A lot of people see New York City as this big, impersonal metropolis.   That's not how I see things at all.  New York is simply a series of little neighborhoods, block by block, that end up being one of the biggest cities in the world.

As I passed by, I noticed this lime tree which is thriving on 51th Street.  They must really have babied this tree during the winter of 2010, when there were several major snow storms.

I heard a clip-clop, a sound you wouldn't think you'd hear in New York City, with its typical city song of sirens and blaring horns.

And then another:

and then this comforting message

And God really was calling me.

And at the next corner, this restaurant

That means, "everything is going well."

And so it was...everything IS going well.

Penny Farthing

Part of my adventure in Olde Towne was getting the tire fixed on my bike.  This is the owner of the shop.  He built this old-fashioned looking bike which is known as a "penny farthing."  Here's why.  Back in England,where these bikes first became popular in the late 1800's, the penny and the farthing were two common coins like this:

The term penny farthing referred to the very large front wheel and the tiny back wheel.  The British Royal family loved to ride these bicycles.  They frequently emptied out the ballrooms at Sandringham and Buckingham Palaces to ride around and around in the winter.  Here's a pic of the family of King Edward VII when he was still Prince of Wales.  HIs mother was Queen Victoria.  The Edwardian Era, in which these bicycles figured prominently, is named after this future King.

Back to humble Portsmouth, the one in Virginia not in England, I got a demonstration of how to ride these bikes.   Please note our historic, one screen movie theater, the Commodore. You can order dinner to eat while you see a movie here.

The penny farthing is way back, but this gives a nice view of High Street and our bricked sidewalks.

Here's another absolutely stunning restored vintage bike inside:

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The Queen Bee's (An Amazing Vintage Shop in Portsmouth, VA)

I had a slow leak in my bicycle tire, so I peddled to Olde Towne to the bike shop.   I had a few moments before the "bike man" opened and stepped into the Queen Bee's.   I'm so glad I was early!

Sharon Black has such a lovely little shop and such a great eye for unique treasures. 

Sharon will look at this pic with dismay and say, "But I just took all the orange stuff out of the Hoosier cabinet and didn't have time to re-arrange it."  I like it anyway,

I brought this sweet little teapot home with me!  Here it is in my living room with the birds.

I wish I had room for this little blue flower pot chair in my living room, but this gorgeous shade of blue did settle in my mind which color to paint the two chairs that sit at the table where we usually eat.

The Queen Bee's

425 High Street

Portsmouth, VA

757-397-3939

And no, I don't get anything for talking about this lovely little shop.  I just loved it so much I wanted to share it with my friends!

So many pumpkins, so little time

Happy Fall, ya'all!

I think the top pumpkin is really exquisite. The folks at the Morris Farm Stand in North Carolina didn't know the name of this particular type.  The delicate markings made me think of this month's country living cover:

The delicate toile tissue paper on the left large pumpkin made me think of that top pumpkin pic taken at the farm stand. Some men see pumpkins as they are and ask why, I dream pumpkins that never were and ask "Why not"? (from pumpkinnook.com.  That quote cracked me up.  JFK actually said that about something other than pumpkins.)

One caveat.  I love the way those Country Living pumpkins look, but if you are covering up pumpkins with tissue paper you may have too much time on your hands.  Maybe you should volunteer at a soup kitchen ministry.

Finally, a humble, ordinary pumpkin and its intellectual lightweight companion in my front yard:

Shine Little Glow Worm, Glimmer Glimmer

When I went in to Starbucks yesterday, this Mills' Brothers hit was playing.  Shine little glow worm, glimmer, glimmer transported me back to age 5, when my grandmother used to sing this as she accompanied herself on the piano.  I would beg her to play it. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8myK93FqbYc


As I think back to this time, when Ginger (a marmalade-colored cat) lolled in a patch of sun near the piano while Helen played, when the chief of the Fire Department lived across the street in a house with a red door and red shutters, I also loved these:

I used to call them "one two threes" because my grandmother taught me to count by enumerating them as she gave them to me.  I don't think they said "fat free" on the label way back then.

My grandmother taught me many valuable life lessons, mostly by example, but the things I remember during the "glow worm days" were simple.  She baked chicken in a paper bag.  I always marveled that the bag didn't go on fire.  She ironed on a board that folded into the wall, which I would give anything to have now.  She had a red love seat that wasn't balanced well and if the person on the inside got up suddenly, the person on the outside would fall off.  I found this hilarious.  We watched Elvis movies or Miss America accompanied by the clicking of her kniting needles. 

Think she was a typical old lady?  Think again.  She drove a T-bird convertible, wore jeans, and worked until she was 85. One of her favorite songs was Bill Joel's "My Life."  A boyfriend of mine once asked her to go with him to Club Med. She was that cool.

She glows in heaven now, glimmer, glimmer...

If A Coffee Can Hits the Galley Floor At Test Depth Does it Make a Sound?

I have a nasty habit of not fastening the lids on jars and things like shampoo or detergent.  I guess it is because I'm afraid that I won't be able to get them open again.  Someone else who lives here, a person I refer to as "ole wrench wrist" can fasten or secure something so tightly that I can never reopen it, such as a wide-mouthed jar of pickles or the faucet for the hose.   Makes me cuss sometimes.

Not only is this annoying habit of using one's wrist as a wrench frugal because liquid won't evaporate, but carefully securing all household items in their appointed spot has the added benefit avoiding said object falling and hitting the floor.  At times, an object falling and hitting the the deck somewhere below the surface of the water and acknowledged unclassified test depth can be dangerous. Especially outside of international waters. As I've been told many times, an improperly stowed coffee that falls can be heard for miles underwater.  Or feet.  Or fathoms.  Or knots.  Or whatever it is.
As madcap and devil-may-care as you know me to be, I continue to do things my own slapdash way and did I pay for it this week.  I had the biggest, nearly full, container of liquid Tide on top of the washer.  The lid was on fairly tightly, but not all the way hermetically sealed if you know what I mean.  I was working on the computer and heard a thud. I attributed the sound only to the wash being a little unbalanced.  Or maybe I'm the unbalanced one.  One of those. The sound stopped after one thud, so I did nothing.
I wish I'd thought to take a pic, but I wanted to cry when I went into the laundry room. The Tide had flown off the washer, I guess from the vibration, and the top flew off when it hit wall.  There was detergent down the wall, all over the floor, inside the radiator, down the front of the washer...you get the picture.
I had a good idea, though.  Okay the really good idea would be to store the Tide in the sink area and put the top on tight.  But I was in critical incident management mode.  Anyway, I scooped up a lot of the mess in my bare hands and put it back in the container.  This worked surprisingly well.  Then I got the clean rags I use for household stuff and sopped up the remainder on about a dozen rags, enough on each for a wash.  I put them in some zip locks (I reuse zip locks over and over), and have used them all week to wash clothes.  Put a rag with the Tide in the wash, throw in the zip lock to clean it off, and turn the machine on.

So, kids, what have we learned?  Close containers all the way, whether the shampoo bottle, or the pickle jar, or the Tide.   You never know how you might figure out to knock them over.  And think creatively when you have a mini-disaster.  There will be a test on this later. 

FINEX, FINEX, FINEX....Mark FINEX  (only submariners get this)

Before and After

Sister Kerry handed this down to Mom who handed it down to me:

An hour later...



Farm Stand and Pumpkins in an Old Silver Ice Bucket

Okay, okay I know I'm rushing it, but according to the farm stand it IS fall:

Although I think we have some spelling issues...

I love farm stands.

I found some really interesting pumpkins which were in the shape and size of an acorn squash.  I put them in an old silver ice bucket I picked up at Goodwill last week.  It wasn't until I got it home and polished it that I noticed it had my initial on it.

Edenton, North Carolina

It is official.  I am in love with this little town on the sound, 70 miles south of good ole Portsmouth.  I headed off with bike in tow and found my new favorite spot in the whole, wide world.

I love the expression on King Frog's face.  I love used bookstores in general.  The wonderful thing about this one is that the books are displayed and organized just as though they were being sold in a retail bookstore.  Tidy, non-dusty, and lovingly placed.  I bought three.

Also wonderful was the availability of a sugar-free latte

I seriously want to own this store and fill if full of antique linens and the refurbished Victrola cabinet I found discarded on a trash heap.  More on that when I finish it.

Here's an adorable clock.  The clock has not been placed there to look retro.  It was placed there to look modern and became retro and hip.

Lighthouse...stunning

I loved the colors and the scroll work on this commercial building:

This Victorian gingerbreading looked like lace to me.

And the lovely gardens

But wait, there's MORE!  (in the post below)