Finding Things to Do

I'm not the only one who's been fairly astounded by how hard it is to do so little despite having so much time on one's hands. Early on, I ticked off numerous things from my to-do list - learn how to fold a fitted sheet (nailed it!); tidy the linen closet; clean out and sort my bags (which were a disaster zone and required a second organizing today); and so forth. The last couple of weeks, however, have been tougher.

One thing I have managed to do is the Tolstoy Together reading group led by Yiyun Li at A Public Space. I have never read War & Peace (nor really had the desire to do so), but this is such a good way to approach it - rather than seeing it as one big slog, taking the time to read fewer pages in each session and trying to fully absorb and appreciate it. A friend with boundless enthusiasm suggested it and I, being in a particularly susceptible mood, agreed and started reading after downloading the free version from the Gutenberg Project. 

Although I started late, I've only occasionally done two reading assignments per day, instead trying to honor the pacing Yiyun Li suggests - for good reason: "Dear Friends, Let’s go—slowly, without rushes, without impatience, without fatigue, without weakness. With some random thoughts from me and many more from you." As she said to those of us late to the party, "Friends who are worrying about catching up: Tolstoy was late, running behind schedule. We can be too, while reading War and Peace. As long as nobody is eaten by the bears, we shall prevail." I love this, and it was exactly what I needed to keep my pace a plodding and focused one, rather than skim reading to skip ahead.

In the portion I've just read, my least favourite character (Prince Andrei) experiences some intense emotional upheaval that he connects to nature, feeling himself reflected and justified by what he sees. Tolstoy's description of an unexpectedly hot, late spring day and his surroundings were perfect:

"It was now hot spring weather. The whole forest was already clothed in green. It was dusty and so hot that on passing near water one longed to bathe."

It transports me to Black Rock, where we've hiked and bathed and been surrounded by green; I can smell it and feel the ground beneath my bare feet as we flung ourselves into the water. Despite two small children rending stripping off and jumping into the pond infeasible, somewhere inside me I resolved to do so, and soon; as soon as this is over. One of many such nature- and travel- and experience-based resolutions everyone, everywhere, is no doubt making.

And this, in the next chapter, takes us back a couple of weeks later, remarking on the changes in just a short passage of time:

"In the forest the harness bells sounded yet more muffled than they had done six weeks before, for now all was thick, shady, and dense. . . ." 

This hit particularly hard as it's so clear to see the huge changes in nature when I only venture out once or twice a week at the moment. We have, once more, utterly failed to see the bluebells come out at the BBG, something we've missed each year we've lived in Brooklyn and been members, a decade or so now; I caught some of the cherry and magnolia blossom (swoon), but already the catkins are forming on trees and green is replacing the brilliant pinks, plums, and whites of the blossom.

Tolstoy got it, apparently, despite such a different time and place, which is no doubt why we're reading it; you can listen to Yiyun Li expound the project on the New Yorker hour - highly recommended. As is taking time to do things when all I want to do is get to the end of this period in our lives.

Burgeoning

Spring, as you may have noticed, is a favourite of mine.  It's not so great in on the US east coast, where we get about four weeks of reasonable weather starting in April, then it becomes so hot one cannot breathe without sweating.  Pollen is abundant here, too - I read something (possibly nonsense; I don't have enough biological knowledge to discern that) about the type of trees that the city uses to avoid shedding too much blossom; apparently these have more pollen than the other kinds.  Either way, I understand why people here are not so keen.

But, as someone brought up in a city where March (at the latest) brings magnolias, crocuses, snowdrops, bluebells, and the glorious scent of hyacinths, it's so exciting to see what has survived the winter, and be pleasantly surprised by the small victories.  Our oak leaf hydrangea is back with a vengeance; miraculously, the wisteria seems to have gone from all brown to green shoots appearing and multiplying each day.  Even one of our hostas, which seemed a lost hope, have suddenly grown inches in the past few days.  Similarly, out of nowhere we have ferns coming back to life, shoots pushing up, with their tight spirals unfurling into those beautiful, ancient leaf formations.  These are just small beginnings, but after our plants struggling last year, our first growing season in this house, they are exciting to watch, and encouraging for more growth this summer.

Springing!

Now that spring finally seems to be coming to Brooklyn, I'm in a much sprightlier mood.  This may  be connected also to my having the week off work (although correlation does not equal causation, clearly).   The hydrangea is clearly back with a vengeance - buds everywhere! - the wisteria has buds, much to my relief, and one of my hostas is going to make it back, which is a surprise.  We have new geraniums in our boxes, the daffodils are springing up, and it feels like the soil under our feet is finally getting warm.  I'm not ruling out some snow before April departs - it's happened before and can definitely happen again - but, for now, I'm going to do some grading outside and enjoy the growth before the mosquitos arrive.

In accordance with my spring-induced enthusiasm, I am doing the Apartment Therapy Spring Cleaning Challenge - 20 minutes a day, one small task.  Number 2 (yesterday) was to clean the fridge.  I did not really do a... thorough job, it's fair to say, but the fridge looks so much better thanks to just a quick clean out and wipe down.  Hallelujah.  So it's definitely worth it.  Today: the shower head, something that I have genuinely never considered cleaning before.  

Breaking Promises

Or not.  I hope.

This month sees me restarting my monthly challenges, and also, did I mention, it's SPRING BREAK?

Spring break!

What does that mean?  Some projects and aims.  Not too many, obviously, because I do not want to overwhelm the vacation time (there's not that much of it), or me (and make myself feel bad about not achieving enough).  But I do want to get some stuff done.  What?

• A trip to a museum - I really want to get to the FIT exhibition on the 1930s, not least because a friend works there and has raved about it.
• A bathroom re-org - my bathroom shelves are amazingly full of a ridiculous amount of things.  It's absurd.  I need to get it together. 
• A garden cleanup - it has been a miserable, long winter and the garden has suffered.  So much snow and ice, for so long - in fact, after I wrote this post there was snow on the ground until about mid-March, and it's only just got warm enough to be sure of no more frozen ground.
• A bath or two - I love, love, love hot baths, and I think I'm going to get myself scrubbed and steamed and deep cleansed.  

So just four things.  That's it.  I'm also going to see my cousin, visit Providence, see old friends, and read grownup books so that my just-read-widget on the right of this blog doesn't only show Young Adult fiction (as much as I love that genre - and there is Zealot, too, which is not too bad), which is a wonderful, wonderful thing. 

SPRING BREAK!

Springing

About a week or so ago I was most disgruntled about the change to daylight savings and it being dark when I arose for boxing lessons. Oh, what a difference a few days makes; yet again, I am overexcited about the joys of spring. The weekend was absolutely glorious, allowing me to boat around Central Park, eat a lot of Grom hazelnut gelato, visit the beautiful magnolias at the BBG, and do several hours' hard graft in the back garden. It needed it, I have to say. This year I plan to spend a lot more time just gently idling and pottering in the garden. I think it's good for me, as I tend to be an all or nothing type, and gardens require consistent but, often, low-level attention. I say this every year, of course, but I'm determined to make this year different. Yesterday saw much raking and turning of the soil (I'm so sad people don't really use the term "hoeing"). This week I need to turn some more, fertilise, and then this weekend we need to mulch/re-do the paths with wood chips and then do some serious seeding / planting.

I Like to Move It, Move It: Part II

I'm still trying to keep up with my challenge for April of twenty pieces of exercise in thirty days. Since my last report, I've done a fair bit and am up to eight. I'm quite pleased with it all, really.

April 6 - Bikram yoga
April 7 - Midtown walking (instead of catching the subway to the doctor's, I walk the 20 mins each way)
April 8 - Bikram yoga
April 9 - Horseriding

We went riding in a rather strange farm just over the Massachusetts border this weekend. I rode a lot as a kid - much more than you'd expect from someone who grew up in Catford - and it was weird to ride after such a long absence. Other than a turn in Costa Rica, I've not been on a horse seriously since I was about fifteen. I used to love it and although nervous, the smells - the horses themselves, the barn, the leather - brought a flood of familiarity and warmth. In turn, the riding has subsequently brought cramp from pressing down in the stirrups, and massively sore inner thighs from my seat - where one's "seat" is the position/balance one has in the saddle. It requires pushing down and into the saddle and thus is the source of my pain today. And yesterday.

I'm also on the look out for new songs to run to. I want to start trying to run again regularly - even if it's just once a week - and I'm very much stuck with mid-90s dance which, while I love, I can't help thinking there must have been some decent music made since the turn of the century. So I'm going to try out some of that stuff and get myself in gear. I think. I hope. Flowers are finally blooming, trees are filling with blossom, and it's about time I got myself outside and enjoying the milder temperatures, later sunsets and floral smells before the summer stench takes over.

March Mehness

A frequent question during my month off drinking is "Why February?" January makes more sense to a lot of people - the excesses of December need to be shirked from one's body and I have quite a few friends who do choose January. But January is cold, bitter, and (most importantly) TOH's birthday, so I can't choose January. Plus, why go cold turkey? Foolish.

My usual blithe (and honest) answer is that February is the shortest month. Yes, I give myself a day off for VD so that TOH and I can enjoy a bottle or two of plonk. So, in fact, it's only 27 days. But that seems enough for me.

Some people suggest March, however, little preparing themselves for the horror that suggestion inspires. Frankly, March is already dreadful enough without prohibiting myself from a warming glass of bourbon, a comforting spicy red wine or something along those lines. I have grown to loathe March since moving to the US. At home it's nippy and windy and rainy, it's true, but it's somehow offset by the blossom and blooms and sense that the year really is progressing to warmer, nicer weather. By this time of year the magnolia tree on my road is in near to full bloom, Mum and I hopefully will have already had a trip out to see the bluebells, and there will be crocuses and daffodils everywhere, with the air often heavy with the smell of hyacinths.

Days like today solidify my loathing. It's extremely gloomy; the clocks having changed made no odds this morning with the murky light barely penetrating my windows, making it seem as if I were up at half five instead of closer to eight. It's just above freezing, and raining, although we're promised by the weather people that this will all clear up this afternoon and be positively warm starting tomorrow. But, not trusting March, I can't quite believe there won't still be some sting in the tail, some snow left to come. The mini gardens along the route to work are still scrubby and brown, there's hardly any foliage anywhere as of yet. There are daffodils poking their green shoots out in the garden but they won't arrive fully for another couple of weeks yet.

Many people complain about the "summer" in Britain, whether from there or overseas, but for me, it's a very close run thing as to whether I'd prefer the NYC summers (which are often filled with disgusting humidity, thunderstorms and insect bites beyond belief) or an earlier, longer spring, rather than the four weeks we get in April/May before it becomes sweltering.

Reductio Ad Absurdum

Today has mostly been spent trying to write a brief (not so successfully, but getting there) and doing a bit of spring cleaning. I did not point out to TOH that it is nowhere bloody near spring yet as, bless him, he had his heart set on this. New year, new lack of stuff. That sort of thing. So today has consisted of numerous attempted ruthless re-categorising of things. No, I don't wear those shoes and haven't worn them for a year - off they go! You get the idea.

Of course, it turns out that we're both more than a little sentimental and have had to have a special category of "yes, I know you never wear it and will never wear it again but I can't bear for you to throw it away." Nevertheless, there is a big bag of things to go to the charity shop consisting of numerous bags, shoes and coats, the bathroom cull has produced two bags of products to go into the giant rubbish tip in the sky (and the earth - ahem. I know it's not great but I promise, we are recycling/donating where possible), and I've recovered two necklaces and an eyelash curler that for the past year have appeared to be irretrievably tangled together. It seems that I have not only a great capacity for hoarding and storing things, I can also be quite ruthless when purging myself of these things. Which leads me to the conclusion that I am a stuff bulimic - I store it all up only to throw it all out. Or something like that.

Growth

This year I am determined to do two things that will hopefully enrich my life and make me a little happier and a little less manic. One is to get myself up earlier every morning. I want to use this time to do the garden. I think I need the extra creativity and feeling of production, of doing something with my hands that creates an end product. As it is, we've been barbecuing and watering and enjoying the blooming garden, watching the growth of the tomatoes, the strawberries, the roses, the cucumber. It's pretty exhilarating. Things seem to be changing constantly; I love it. Here are some photos of the fruits of our labours for your enjoyment.

Nurturing

Our garden has been a great source of joy. Recently, it has sprung to life. It's hard to believe that the garden that featured this chair just a couple of months ago now looks like this. The blueberries are coming along, strawberry flowers are appearing, the sage is slowly emerging, and the phlox and bleeding hearts are in full bloom.

Now, our seedlings we've been growing ourselves have not fared desperately well, yet, and reached a major crisis yesterday when my attempts to harden them were proved to be too akin to "tough love" for the poor little things. But we have watered them devotedly, and even set up some splints, and under some intense light some, at least, are reviving. The tomatoes, mostly. So gradual, gentle hardening will start tomorrow. We did cave and purchase some peppers, cucumbers, broccoli(!!), tomatoes and lettuce, and they are all planted out and, hopefully, about to thrive.

Along with our landlady, who is an amazing gardener and designed the whole thing, we had a thorough de-snailing, weeding and re-planting thing, moving stuff around, mulching where necessary. But it looks so so so good and is just pure joy. Photos to come.

Boing!

Spring has, officially, sprung. So says I. The baseball season started yesterday (thank you, Hideki Okajima, for getting a win, putting me top of my fantasy baseball so that I haven't given up on it just yet - it happens earlier each year), and we spent several hours slumped on a blanket enjoying the sun in Prospect Park while people all around us flew kites, played cricket (although they didn't even chuck, they just straight out threw the ball), and played annoying hipster hybrids of volleyball and basketball with a giant beach ball. Luckily for my rage buttons, we were nowhere near bongo players, and just had to put up with some light strumming of a guitar (by a group of young folk who spent roughly an hour discussing a) hair straighteners and b) how much they loathed Taylor Swift. I am shallow, but not that shallow).

TOH was here for all of spring break, and we ate incredibly well, culminating last night in our second making of this in a week - absolutely spectacular. We don't cook fish that often, but this was amazing. Other new recipes tried out this week: a glorious, relatively healthy version of laksa, a lemon-chili baked chicken, and a Basque-style chicken casserole. Yum yum yum. We also saw the sprouting of all our various planted seeds, so thinning out will take place this week as we strive to keep them healthy and alive. But it's finally happening. I'm going to post on the growth in the garden and seed table later this week, with photos, but it is just utterly thrilling to see things slowly emerge and grow.

On Reflection...

... forget what I said yesterday. I really am getting carried away. But that's because we had a glorious meal of big ass jerk steak (the actual name of the recipe, not my name for it), cooked on the barbecue on the deck, and today we had tea and tomatoes on toast on the deck while plotting where I was going to grow my lettuce. Indeed, inspired by the sun and the memory of fresh, home-grown tomatoes, and my friend's plans for self-sufficiency, I've now ordered seeds for lettuce and herbs and tomatoes, and I cannot wait to start growing this stuff. If I manage it, obviously. Not sure how green-fingered I am these days, but I think it's going to be fun to find out.

Sprung!

I'm not getting too carried away. I'm wearing a cardigan, and I only put on the peep toes for lunchtime - the socks and closed toes will come back on this evening to go home.

And yet. The sun is shining, and it's hard to be in too bad a mood, given the blue of the sky.

I know that now is not the time to put the coats into storage; I've been here in the snow in April before.

And yet. Crocuses on Park Place; the magnolia tree is budding. It's coming.

Blooming

I tend to take various different routes to work in my stomp across town (I take the train south and then walk across), but they invariably mean I go past the deli where they all know my order and have it cooking as I walk through the door (which is awesome - I bypass the queue most days and it rocks). But from there, I always take the same route, because I always seem to catch the same part of the traffic lights' cycle. This morning, I didn't, and I hit Park Avenue a street lower than normal. And, for once, I looked up, looked south, and noticed outside St. Bart's an unbelievable sight - Leaves. Blossom. I looked north, and outside my building, six trees with leaves and flowers growing.

It has made me more than happy--I'm buoyant with the thought of spring, everything shooting out and growing. It'll soon be time to hit up the blossom at the Bronx and Brooklyn Botanical Gardens - hooray.

Now, if only it weren't so fecking cold.

Laid back... relaxed...

Yep, I feel the sunshine. It's such a ridiculous mood enhancer to know that it's going to be fairly warm out, no matter what, until October. So it occurs to me to talk about things that are making me happy rather than grumpy for a change.

1. Midnight Boom by The Kills - I'm just lovin' it, lovin' it lovin' it (like that). Sort of a cross between the White Stripes and the Fiery Furnaces with, I think, a real Pixies sensibility thrown in - the way they use her voice to cut through everything really minds me of Kim Deal, for some reason, particularly on Cheap and Cheerful. URA Fever and Sour Cherry are worth the purchase on their own.
2. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. A friend lent us it and we've only just got around to watching it, but it is genius. For the abortion episode alone - particularly as it's got Taylor from The OC in it - sheer awesomeness. I love working out which one is the worst human being in each episode - and it's always, always, ALWAYS Charlie.
   
1. Other tv shows currently loving - Torchwood, Buffy re-runs.
   
2. Annoyed at (STILL) - waiting for new Pushing Daisies.
   
3. Outside drinking. Holy cow I've missed it. And it's time to bring out the rosé - hallelujah.
   
4. Maria moving back to NYC - hurrah!
   
5. Football - two victories last weekend, for the first time ever, for the two teams I play on. Playing at this time of year is utterly perfect - and at the moment two two matches are the sandwich to my weekend, and love it.
   
6. Rediscovering the good songs from The Great Escape by Blur - and yes, there were a few - I love Entertain Me and He Thought of Cars - I'd completely forgotten that song...
7. BLOSSOM! It suddenly appeared from nowhere, and so now I can have lunch in the park, with the sun on me and enjoy scent. The smell of hyacinths is glorious, hypnotic - there's a patch of purple ones right by our football pitch in Chinatown, and it's wonderful. The magnolia and cherry trees are out, and I am just extremely happy about it all.
   

Of course, I wouldn't be me without a grumble - bad things about better weather are, of course, self-tanning streaks and having to maintain fairly decent toenails. But I can manage that, of course.

Finally, achievement

I actually managed to fulfill one of my New Year's Resolutions... for this week, at least. Yes, indeedy, I walked down from 96th St. It was a great opportunity to listen to some podcasts and catch up on Test Match Special and Woman's Hour, on things ranging from the lost art of dressmaking, to comfort women, to the loss of the old cricket grounds in the West Indies.

It is such a glorious morning. NYC is at the stage where it seems warm in the sun - beautifully so - but it's still rather chilly in the shade and after sunset. Yet you can feel things coming back to life, and everyone seems just so much happier. I love it so. This is my new Thursday plan. Honestly. Seriously. Walking is the way forward.