Restoration Story: Update

A couple of weeks ago I posted about realizing that our floor refinishing project is actually a restoration project. I need to remind myself that restoring takes time and requires sustained patience. We really are making progress, but there is still so much to do that I become overwhelmed. Friday evening I told TBM I would probably have a meltdown before the weekend was over, and today was the day.

Alternative Living, Part Two: No Impact

A number of years ago I heard a radio interview with a man who was striving to live for an entire year without creating a carbon footprint* on the earth. I was immediately captivated by the idea and the details of his plan, and impressed that he had taken on the challenge with a somewhat less enthusiastic wife, and a toddler in tow. Colin Bevan, aka “No Impact Man” lives in New York City, which both eased and complicated the lifestyle experiment he took on in 2007. Imagine living a whole year in the city, your only means of transportation your own two feet (which also are used to power the family bike); not using the subway or elevators; buying nothing encased in packaging (buying almost nothing new, for that matter); not using air conditioning or watching TV; using nothing made of plastic; and composting ALL your waste (and I do mean all!). There’s even more.

Le Beaux Verre

I spent a rainy afternoon this week wandering my favorite Parisian neighborhood, Le Marais. This tiny shop on a meandering side street captivated me from the moment I saw its jewel box contents.

I admire so many French customs, and the stylish ease with which the French live. Re-loving old and beautiful things was, I believe, original to the French, who even hand down their homes, filling them with treasures from the past. It’s hard to imagine how precious goods such as the glass pictured here has survived into the 21st Century, but I’m thankful it has, providing an elegant example that living mindfully need not be beauty-deprived.

Flower Power

So, after a holier-than-thou post yesterday regarding the nasty cut flower industry, a dilemma:

What to do when someone gives your husband a huge bouquet of beautiful cut flowers? No, not a lover; there is no illicit affair being carried forth. But recently TBM was given flowers, after he brilliantly did what he does best in this world. You know, as a congratulatory gesture.

TBM then gave the flowers to me, because flowers don’t interest him (not to say he wasn’t touched by their receipt). And I thought, “UGH! I won’t have such sinful flowers in my home!” No, I didn’t think that, but I did think, “Well, there has already been so much waste bringing these flowers to us, I can’t continue wasting them now.”

In Bloom

Saturday I cut from the garden what surely are some of the last flowers of the season. In my absence from Hudson the past two weeks, the geraniums and dahlias mistook their forced drought (alas, there has been no significant rain) for a death sentence and are fiercely in bloom right now.

Re-Loving Sleep

The past few days have been rough. Too little sleep, just too little sleep. Two reasons:

Cobble, Cobble

Ain’t these beauties? Probably not to anyone but me!

They’re Birkenstocks, purchased for me by TBM on a trip to Brussels five years back. I hadn’t brought comfortable walking shoes; we saw these in a store window; I really wanted them but didn’t want to spend the money. TBM kindly and generously bought them for me, probably so he wouldn’t have to listen to complaints about my uncomfortable shoes on the challenging surface of La Grand-Place. I have loved these sandals to pieces ever since. Literally.

Enchanting Autumn Gardens

Re-loving London, again. This past week I had a chance to spend a day there, something for which I’m always thrilled and grateful. Kensington Gardens was my place of choice to while away the afternoon, a warm one for England in October. The Gardens were teeming with visitors, and I met a few as I strolled, admiring bloom after bloom. One person I met was a young woman who I would guess, by her accent, was originally from Eastern Europe. She was tending a sweet little girl who shared a moment with me at a wall overlooking The Sunken Garden, where this photo was taken. The Nanny said they come to Kensington Gardens twice a day, for about three hours at a time. Can you imagine a more enchanted childhood, than spending six hours a day among trees and flowers and fountains in the shadow of a palace?

Washing Up, Portuguese Style

Years ago, l lived in Portugal. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was a period that would influence my life forever. At that time, Portugal was an unsophisticated product of the old world, where culture, religion and politics were equally tainted by charlatans and fools. Yet I viewed life there as far richer and more sophisticated than my upbringing in the American west. I fell in love with the country, the language, and most especially with the Portuguese people. Memories of my time there are gently etched in my heart and mind.

Alternative Living, Part One

When I was a teenager, a family with two young sons moved in next door. I began babysitting for them and eventually also worked at a retail store they owned downtown. Oh, how my world was broadened by associating with the this clan. The parents were both artists; the family were vegetarians. I believe the husband/dad was bisexual. The couple had sophisticated, eclectic taste; art covered their walls; they each set up home studios and worked through manic fits of creation. They listened to Joni Mitchell and Eliza Gilkyson, wore Calvin Klein and Prada. Their older son was brilliant: he was reading chapter books and conducting science experiments at age five (he completed a medical degree in his early twenties). Their younger son was a free spirit, very affectionate and kind. He showed promising artistic ability even as a toddler. I wonder what he is doing now…