Posts Tagged 'time'

Hostas

Around the yard, mementos grow
From other swaths of green:
Gardens transplanted
From other gardens; Plants planted
So that 1918 lives on near the lawn.

Heart-shaped green leaves catch the faint breeze
Under willow branches;
They dance to music
Our parents heard. Below the ground
Water swells; small blooms glow under the trees.

– © rjn, June 2020

Jogging into a gilded past

One of the benefits of living in a small, but relatively old city, is the way neighborhoods built in different eras retain their character. In Philadelphia, you can get on the el and be in almost any kind of neighborhood in a very short time (modern, from the 1920s, or even back into the 1700s). Boston and Chicago have the same fluidity between time periods, and a visitor can wonder what era of architecture they’re looking at.

Here at Church and Graveyard, one can jog in one direction, and wind up in a neighborhood with houses from the 1930s and maybe a little bit older. If you jog in the other direction, you wind up in a neighborhood with ornamental fountains, fancy houses from the 1930s, and manicured lawns. Tonight, as I did my post-Thanksgiving run/stagger, I decided to go around one of the ornamental fountains where the carp are in the summer. The last of the sun was setting, the fountains were frozen and reflecting the darkening sky, and I passed a stone house with a beautiful room with windows on three sides. It had a golden harp set up in the front window, with a black baby grand piano behind it. I could just imagine the glittering party planned there, complete with a caterer, glittering candles, and a small recital.

And then I jogged/walked back up the hill, and was back in my normal wooden house from the 1800s (that would look better with new paint and shutters, I admit). It’s fun to look at other peoples’ glittery lives from a distance, even if it’s only in books. I love my house, and my quiet Thanksgiving celebrations, although now I’m craving harp music to listen to. Happy Thanksgiving from the corner of Church and Graveyard. I hope yours was a happy celebration, with only a small bit of travel to get to Grandma’s house. If you’re not in the USA, and want to know what all the fuss about the food is about, here’s a recipe for sweet potato pie (actually an NPR piece about a chef who learned to make his Nana’s pie recipe), pumpkin pie, and my favorite: roast turkey (basted every 20 minutes with a sauce made of lingonberry jam, port, and butter) and stuffing (I normally use one from the Fannie Farmer Cookbook, preferably not one with sausage).

The figs are still green

… but the leaves on the forsythia are turning, I’ve switched to warmer clothing, and it looks like fall is upon us. Back on September 9th last year, we had lots and lots of ripe figs that were turning black on the trees. Heck, last August we had a crop we were harvesting. This season the ripening started later — we’ve had only 5 or 6 ripe figs to bring into the house (and we have 2 trees, filled with green little bullets).

Since there’s nothing I can do to make the figs hurry up and ripen, I’m drinking my coffee and musing away to myself. Wonder if the figs will ripen before hard frosts turn them to goo?


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