The dog
(Such a cute dog.)
(Seriously. He’s 20 times more adorable than this picture can convey and he’s pretty darned cute in said picture.)
Express your personal style in resin
I received a catalog of sheer weirdness today: Design Toscano. Every page has a new horror or six made of resin. Let’s start with the cover, shall we?
On the cover is something called “The Subservient Dragon Glass-Topped Sculptural Table.†This is a use of the word subservient with which I am unfamiliar because the dragon is both big enough to kick my ass and sporting a decidedly menacing expression.
On page 14 are two distressing side tables with actual legs for, uh, legs. One is a pair of Caucasian legs in red pumps and the other is tall, black, stiletto boots. The tops are round smoked glass. As the catalog says, these certainly will make a statement.
On page 18 is a lovely skull with bat wings wall sculpture. Nothing says home like one of these. I think I’ll get one for every room. What’s it made of? You guessed it: resin.
Moving right along to page 7A in the sale section, there is a what? Resin wall sculpture called “The Goddess Laurel.†I find this genuinely distressing because she doesn’t really appear to have normal arms or feet. It seems her feet are roots and her arms blend into her hair as a bouquet of branches above her head. It reminds me of the scene in the movie of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus when they come upon the title character’s daughter who has had her hands cut off and replaced with twigs. It gives me chills.
Leaving the resin theme for a moment, I must tell you that on page 51 there is a “Renaissance-Style†monk’s robe. I don’t know about you but I’ve been waiting for them to come back into style.
Last but not least, on the back cover, is the “Freedom’s Pride†wall sculpture (made of—go figure—resin). Almost live! Coming at you out of the wall a full 8 inches into the room is an eagle in full pounce mode with talons extended. Nice. This is almost as comforting as the bat wing skull. It might be more comforting. Oh, it’s so difficult to decide.
Here’s the thing, I know we all have different taste preferences so this really is just my opinion. The fact that other people might love this tacky-ass crap doesn’t make me think much —er, any less of them.
What’s not there anymore
NOAA has a satellite image index map that allows you to zero in on areas of Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana to see what either isn’t there anymore or has been rearranged into piles of timber, metal, and glass. Start clicking in the black squares to zoom in on an area.
Brace yourself; it’s shocking.
Science made stupid
My copy of Science Made Stupid arrived in the mail yesterday. Yippee!!!
Autumnal pulchritude
The past several days have been really beautiful in the DC metro area. Autumn is unofficially here (official, or meteorological, autumn starts in a couple of weeks) complete with beautiful deep blue skies, high clouds, cooler temperatures, and gentle breezes. I know there will be another burst of really hot weather this month but that’s survivable.
I loath when it is too hot or too cold to leave the windows open. I prefer fresh air and the sounds of the outdoors. Despite my urban/suburban locale, my particular complex is quite bucolic and beautifully landscaped. By beautifully landscaped I mean very natural, lush, thoughtful landscaping; not the sort of landscaping that makes real plants look artificial and plastic.
There is a rosebush by my front door, some rather large red hibiscus flowers in front of another building, and a particularly beautiful and very tall (about 9 feet tall in fact) butterfly bush down the hill from me. It is clustered with black-eyed susans and some other variably blooming plants. There are always at last two swallowtails on the butterfly bush. I can also look around and see many varieties of trees, tulips, daffodils, and pansies. A woman around the corner cultivates quite an interesting menagerie of plants around her apartment building’s door too.
Birds nest in my building in the rafters so my cats are provided with ample entertainment that hovers tantalizingly close to them sometimes. They get excited and focused and try to coax the birds to them at the windowsill but the birds aren’t having any of it (go figure). Nevertheless, the cats keep trying although I’m not exactly sure they’ve thought through working around the window screens. There aren’t too many squirrels which is a nice change for me because I don’t have much love for them. Or for deer. But I digress.
The nights have been cool, breezy, and dry which I prefer. I understand the benefits of humidity but I prefer dryer air so I’ll relish the current humidity levels as much as possible.
I’m so glad August is over.
Chinquapin
Today is the first day of a festival in the mountains. The name of the festival reminded me of the fact that my grandparents had a Chinquapin tree in the orchard and that I looooooooooved the Chinquapin nuts even though they were a real pain in the ass to get to because of the spiky burrs encasing them.
I actually grazed my way though childhood in a kind of bountiful fairyland when I think about it. Both grandfathers had gardens and I always spent huge swaths of summer with both sets of grandparents, so the whole summer was like Christmas. Peaches, raspberries, apples, blackberries, plums, wineberries, cherries, watermelon, Chinquapin nuts, tomatoes, cabbage, lettuce, corn, peas*, potatoes, rhubarb, green beans, onions, peppers, squash….
At the time, it never occurred to me that not everyone has this. Now, I despair at the vast swaths of humanity who have never experienced this even once. I don’t mean just the poor folks in the other parts of the world; I mean fellow Americans. There is nothing that compares to a sun-warmed tomato from the garden, peaches right off the tree, and onions and potatoes fresh out of the ground.
The sensory experience is so much more than taste. The colors are spectacular; the smells are so fresh and pungent; the texture of dirt and leaves is profoundly organic; the comfort and beauty of all that sustenance is lovely to behold.
I relish the fact that I can grow plants in my apartment. As I type this, tomato plants are growing on the windowsill. If I had a yard, I would have a garden. It isn’t just about the food that is yielded either; it is about the pleasure of growing and nurturing it, the optimism and hope, the comfort and pride.
I wonder if I could cultivate a Chinquapin tree in my apartment.
*As everyone who knows me is aware, I hate peas, creamed or otherwise. However, there is almost nothing better than fresh raw peas from the garden. It was such a disappointment to eat them cooked after having them fresh and raw. I’ve never gotten over the horror.
edited 9/26/2005
