Sitting a Moment

I love outdoor chairs--summertime chairs, really.  They look so inviting, so convivial.  One can sit with a glass of iced tea and follow the wind, the sunlight ... listen to the birds, the silence. Or, with a friend, look out over the garden, the hills.  It all lends itself to an earlier era.  Any tasks can be put off awhile.  Any electronic devices.  It's just time to sit a moment, clear your mind, and say, "Ahhhh...."

One, two, three, four chairs.  Take your pick.

The Clark

Reflecting pool

The Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, Massachusetts, is featuring a splendid exhibit called "Van Gogh and Nature" until September 13th.  A friend and I recently took a Saturday to make the trip and view both the Van Gogh as well as much of the permanent collection--or at least until our feet gave out.  The Clark recently opened after an extensive renovation providing a more industrial and extensive feel than the old venue which I always found lovely and accessible.  But, not complaining, the day we went, the place was so popular that all paved parking was taken as was all grass parking.  And the street outside (Rt. 7) had cars parked along it for probably a mile.  The new venue offers comfortable chairs, umbrellas for sitting outdoors, a handsome reflecting pool, a couple of cafes with excellent offerings, footpaths, new tree plantings, and softly-lit rooms to keep sunlight from harming the art work.

The Van Gogh exhibit had been put together to include works by painters who had influenced him, including Corot, Hiroshige, Millet, and Monet.  It was arranged chronologically, ending, of course, with Paris, Provence, and Auvers (where he died).  Along with many landscapes and renderings of flowers, it included works depicting birds' nests, moths, and insects.  I was particularly fond of the paintings of glorious Provence--of Arles and Saint-Rémy. My friend and I agreed that our favorite painting was, in fact, "Cypresses" with the Alpilles in the background, a work in which the sky, trees, hills, and foreground simply danced.  A splendid, vibrant, magnificent piece.  We two stood before it, transfixed.

Always thinking about what I can offer in the way of blog postings, I had my camera with me.  I was not permitted to take photos of the Van Gogh exhibit itself.  But I was allowed to photograph anything in the permanent collection (without a flash). The works of George Inness and Winslow Homer were favorites of the Clarks and are now in a gallery of their own.  In the painting below by Alfred Stevens, I was totally smitten by his ability to portray velvet using the medium of oil paint.  As for Gauguin's piece, it was painted after his return from Tahiti.

George Inness - "New Jersey Landscape" 1891

George Inness - "Autumn in Montclair" 1894

George Inness - "Green Landscape" 1886

Alfred Stevens - "A Duchess (The Blue Dress)" 1866

Henri Fantin-Latour - "Roses in a Bowl and Dish" 1885

Paul Gauguin - "Young Christian Girl" 1894

Lily pond

A Gallery of Photos: Summertime

As summertime winds down, I salute this delicious time of year ... and offer thanks!!

"A Thing for Little Old Ladies"

Okay.  True story.

One morning recently, I found that my three phones had no dial tone.  I unplugged and re-plugged each.  Zilch.  (I was able to get on line, however.) Of course, I immediately used my cell phone to call the phone company who said that if the problem lay inside my house, I'd be charged for the repairman's visit.  If outside, I wouldn't.

I waited all morning.  No repairman.  I called again. "Oh," they said, "he's not coming today.  He'll be there tomorrow."

"What time?"

"It could be anytime."

"That means I'll have to wait around another day."

"Yes."  Of course, they added, if the problem lay outside the house, I wouldn't have to wait around all day.  But, of course, I wouldn't know where the problem lay until he came.

Next day.  I called again to see if they had any better idea when he'd come. They didn't.  It got to be noon.  2:00.  3:00.  I was picturing having wasted another day when, at 4:00 there he was!

First thing, he said he'd have to come inside the house to check my modem--which had been giving me trouble lately.  "Is that where the problem lies," I asked?  He didn't know.  He said he'd also have to check the phone box outside the house, his "hut" down the street, the lines between it and my house, etc.

In the meantime we chatted about how he liked this part of town and  how he lived off in the boonies and had had a terrible mud season.  He talked about his kids, their school.  And I offered some friendly topics of my own.

Around 5:00 he said everything was finished and working properly.  I could get calls in; I could get calls out; the modem was fine.  Since he'd been inside the house, I asked if I'd be charged for his hour of work.

"The fact that the line went dead wasn't your fault," he said.  "We won't charge you.  Besides," he added with a twinkle, "I have a thing for little old ladies."

ZOONK.  He means me!!!, I said to myself.  I almost laughed out loud but saved that for after he'd left.  In fact, I wasn't sure how to respond. I AM little; I AM in my 70s; I AM female.  Does that make me a little old lady?  

I actually looked it up to see how that term stands today.  To conclude:  there's the little old lady who swallowed a fly, the little old lady passing by, the little old lady who lived in a shoe, and the little old lady who was not afraid of anything.  Not all that bad company, I decided.  Let's just smile and leave it there.

Little Kid Art Over the Years

(Note:  next blog posting will be in two weeks--August 8th.)


We used to wonder about what I might call Little Kid Art for which school children were given Styrofoam meat trays on which to produce a collage ... or macaroni for necklaces.  I figured that since it was all supposed to be fun, those in charge thought that good materials were the least of it ... although my own mother had the opposite view.  She always gave my brother and me good paper for our artwork.  We both had our own red sable brush, not something made from pig whiskers.  She figured that using good materials gave one a sense of self-worth.

But somewhere along the way kids have been told that whatever they produce is just Jolly Marvelous.  That's because we mustn't tamper with their sense of self-expression which would stunt their growth.  Rather than directing them in any way, we must let them go along at their merry pace.  Well, I can see some sense in that.  But, I can also see the advantage of raising their standards by expecting more from them than meat-tray art.

A friend and I once judged some local student art, giving prizes for watercolor, drawing, and painting.  The painting turned out to be mostly acrylic, not oils.  Nothing wrong with acrylics but oils are an excellent medium and not hard to use.  The drawings were done with pencil and pen-and-ink, as you would imagine.  The "watercolors" were done with colored pens.  No tubes of paint.  No brush-work.  Just colored drawings.  My friend and I had a hard time finding any piece that was actually done with watercolor paint, using a brush.  The students probably went from pre-k poster paint to colored pens, never venturing into watercolor at all. 

I suppose little kids in the Old Days were busy doing other things:  bringing in the cows, helping make the family's candles, walking miles to/from school.  I know almost nothing about one of my great grandmothers except that she lived in Maryland and produced a truly beautiful needlework sampler--her own embroidery--in 1829 when she was either nine or ten.  She was surely given some direction in handling the medium (embroidery) ... as well as in doing as good a job as possible so that she could feel pleased with the result.  She surely was not simply given a needle, some "twist" (embroidery floss), and told, "Susan, go for it!"

Just something I wanted to say!

Sorry, discoloration in all these photos is really my reflection in the glass.

Gallery of Photos: Garden Tour Time

Under gloriously sunny skies, it was garden tour time again this past weekend in nearby Westminster--a benefit for Westminster Cares ("Neighbors Helping Neighbors").  Reflecting the height of summer beauty, the gardens speak for themselves.

Thanks, C., for your company!

And thanks, too, to the gardens of Mary and Gordon Hayward (#s 1-6), Fran Renaud (#s 7-8), Cyndy Fine (#9), and Ann Kebbell (#s 10-11).

Cooking for One

Yes, I was one of those who had a large dining room table and came up with dinner party recipes for six, eight, or ten of us.  I had a fine collection of cook books and enjoyed plowing through them for tasty combinations.  (All on an electric stove and no dishwasher.)  Of course, I also fed the family three meals a day for I don't know how many years.  I made sourdough bread, zucchini pickles, yogurt cheese.  We grew our own tomatoes, green beans, lettuces.  Even then (the '70s and '80s) we were concerned with eating as organically and locally as possible.

Then things shifted and I found myself cooking for one.  Over the years, bit by bit, I've gotten rid of most of my cook books.  On yet another downsizing roll, I've now discarded even more.

Here's what's left.

In fact, they no longer fit my life style.  I no longer give dinner parties.  Nor do I know anyone here in my age group who does.  If people do happen to get together, except for Thanksgiving and Christmas, it's potluck or take-out.  (Mostly, we opt for lunch at our favorite Chinese restaurant.)

But cook books have two main flaws for the single cook.  All the recipes serve 4-6 or 8-10 or 10-12.  Not simply one!  Of course, I can cut the recipes in half or in quarter, but then, if it calls for cream, say, I'm using such a small amount, it doesn't pay to buy it and have it go bad in the fridge while I'm thinking what else to do with it.  Or, a recipe calls for 5 egg yolks.  (Which makes a cake I can't possibly eat by myself ... and I don't really know anyone who eats that sort of thing anymore.)  Then there are the egg whites to deal with.

Another example:  I recently re-read Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift From the Sea in which she mentions making biscuits.  Ah, biscuits, I thought.  They sound good.  So I got myself a quart of buttermilk and made a good dozen.  But I only needed 2/3 c. of the buttermilk. It never much works to freeze buttermilk ... and I don't like drinking it.  As for the biscuits, I had two for breakfast and put the rest into a container which I suppose will end up in the freezer.  Can you imagine the French (my role models when it comes to food) taking a biscuit out of the freezer and eating it?  They like things to be fresh!  

Then, too, by the time I've adjusted a recipe to my single-status needs, I've left out a lot of ingredients I don't even get because I can't use them up--which means the final product only half-heartedly resembles the original recipe.  So, why even bother using recipes anymore?  Or keeping cook books?  We can always go on-line to hunt something up.

There's also the seasonal issue.  When it's tomato season, I can't remember where that tomato recipe was that I once saw.  Or, later, that acorn squash dish that looked possible. 

What I need is someone to come up with The Single Person's Seasonal Cook Book.  Small amounts.  Listed by season.  Not requiring ingredients that are only sold in prescribed amounts that will just spoil before I can think what to do with them.

As you see in the photo above, I am still keeping my favorite cook books but probably more for sentimental reasons than anything.  I do still enjoy sitting down and paging through them.