I had this incredibly vivid dream last night. In it, I was walking towards a large, cropped field with some grassy spaces. The first thing that I noticed was this pretty little plain house. It was blue, and somehow elevated, though the ground didn't appear to be hilly, and it wasn't floating. Two staircases flanked its simple exterior, rising like the marble ones you would see in a fancy house, but they were wooden, boardwalk-type staircases.
Something moved and I looked to the right to see a young Cole Porter (portrayed in my dream by Kevin Kline, as in the movie De-Lovely,) reclining in one of the grassy patches of the field. He was in a white full-length lawn-chair or something, holding a fishing pole which moored a kite aloft just above the house.
It's our house, I realized. Upon this discovery, I noticed I was wearing a long, flowing white summer dress. Cole Porter/Kevin Kline looked up and smiled, with that light smile he has, and I awoke.
I'm not going to pick apart my dream and reflect upon its deeper meaning, or derive significance from Cole Porter's lifestyle and the losses portrayed in the film. I just thought it was this really sweet, pretty dream, with the farmhouse, and the kite, and the two of us in white.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Middle of Vacation
Every weekend, it feels as though we are caught up in the middle of some extended vacation. On Saturday, the day started with honey-buckwheat pancakes with sliced bananas, coffee for me, and the Velvet Underground on the radio. Socks, shoes, and red hats, and we were off to discover some new place.
I wound up driving through N.F. I was looking for this "rail trail" which some biker at the cycle shop had given me vague directions to. We passed the country store and happened instead upon the quiet driveway for a path which runs along the E. River. The path leads right into E., and my first stop was this little art shop with pretty little paintings of marine life and stars. Then, across the street to the Mediterranean place. I wanted to buy some tabbouleh. The owner offered samples of these pumpkin-spinach balls. I bit into one: it tasted spicier and softer than a falafel, but had the same fried exterior. I offered half to Langston, who nibbled enthusiastically, so I bought some of those, too.
More walking by the river, then back home for lunch. Right after lunch, an almost three-hour nap followed by tea with graham crackers. We read a few books leisurely in the late afternoon, and then bundled up for another walk, this time just through the drive behind my apartment complex to the mailbox.
Today, Sunday, another beautiful sky brought the day, so we went down to the river around nine a.m. On the way, we passed a small turn-off for a forest - I'll go back and investigate that later today. This time, I wanted to find the path on the other side of the river. It's even prettier there, though you kind of have to cut through a group of condominium buildings. The path is grassy, with soft gravel, and there are these two street lanterns that appear, like something from Narnia.
I walked briskly, and felt my cheeks redden. On the way back through town to the side of the river where the car was, I traded smiles with other happy pedestrians.
I wound up driving through N.F. I was looking for this "rail trail" which some biker at the cycle shop had given me vague directions to. We passed the country store and happened instead upon the quiet driveway for a path which runs along the E. River. The path leads right into E., and my first stop was this little art shop with pretty little paintings of marine life and stars. Then, across the street to the Mediterranean place. I wanted to buy some tabbouleh. The owner offered samples of these pumpkin-spinach balls. I bit into one: it tasted spicier and softer than a falafel, but had the same fried exterior. I offered half to Langston, who nibbled enthusiastically, so I bought some of those, too.
More walking by the river, then back home for lunch. Right after lunch, an almost three-hour nap followed by tea with graham crackers. We read a few books leisurely in the late afternoon, and then bundled up for another walk, this time just through the drive behind my apartment complex to the mailbox.
Today, Sunday, another beautiful sky brought the day, so we went down to the river around nine a.m. On the way, we passed a small turn-off for a forest - I'll go back and investigate that later today. This time, I wanted to find the path on the other side of the river. It's even prettier there, though you kind of have to cut through a group of condominium buildings. The path is grassy, with soft gravel, and there are these two street lanterns that appear, like something from Narnia.
I walked briskly, and felt my cheeks redden. On the way back through town to the side of the river where the car was, I traded smiles with other happy pedestrians.
Friday, October 8, 2010
The Dumpster Walk
Every other evening or so, I walk outside my building to take the trash down to dumpsters which border the woods behind my apartment complex. The minute I open the door, my head feels clear, and the fresh air lightens my spirit. Tonight, with no moon in sight, the celestial canopy was vast and deep.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
New England Fall Days
This weekend, we headed out to visit an apple picking farm and happened upon Applecrest Farm's Harvest Festival. On the way there, the windows of the car were rolled halfway down, letting cool fall air in as we curved past fences and farms. The festival was in full swing as we arrived. A high school boy waved us down the parking lot, where Langston and I tripped through thick grass to the festival entrance. It smelled incredible - roasting corn, hot apple cider, pies, and smoky coal grills.
A bluegrass band was playing in a bandstand, and hundreds of people were milling about among pumpkins every color. There was a huge line for apple cider donuts. (I regret now not lining up to sample one - next time.) There was a large market where I returned the next day to buy half a peck of honey crisp apples and some apricot jam for an apple tart. In a separate little barn, a creamery sold many, many different kinds of ice cream. We had apple pie ice cream, both Saturday and Sunday. At first, my son was skeptical, despite my reassurance, "It's just like yogurt!" Later, amid bales of hay and pumpkins, he conceded to a few tentative bites. The next day, wearing his red knit cap, no such caution was necessary. We sat on a chilly bench outside the creamery and happily shared a kiddie-sized cup of apple pie ice cream. Passersby commented on his hat and his smile.
Saturday, we wandered through the pumpkin patch and past the petting zoo. "We live here," I told Langston, smiling at his open-mouthed laugh. My son was less interested in the assorted farm animals than he was in the huge pumpkins and their gorgeous, twisting roots. He measured their girth with his palms and studied their lines. After walking up and down rows of pumpkins, it was time to go home.
A bluegrass band was playing in a bandstand, and hundreds of people were milling about among pumpkins every color. There was a huge line for apple cider donuts. (I regret now not lining up to sample one - next time.) There was a large market where I returned the next day to buy half a peck of honey crisp apples and some apricot jam for an apple tart. In a separate little barn, a creamery sold many, many different kinds of ice cream. We had apple pie ice cream, both Saturday and Sunday. At first, my son was skeptical, despite my reassurance, "It's just like yogurt!" Later, amid bales of hay and pumpkins, he conceded to a few tentative bites. The next day, wearing his red knit cap, no such caution was necessary. We sat on a chilly bench outside the creamery and happily shared a kiddie-sized cup of apple pie ice cream. Passersby commented on his hat and his smile.
Saturday, we wandered through the pumpkin patch and past the petting zoo. "We live here," I told Langston, smiling at his open-mouthed laugh. My son was less interested in the assorted farm animals than he was in the huge pumpkins and their gorgeous, twisting roots. He measured their girth with his palms and studied their lines. After walking up and down rows of pumpkins, it was time to go home.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
