Irene's Primrose

My grandmother Irene's primrose is in bloom in our garden. She had many primroses in her garden; this one she called Primula Absciassica, although I have never found mention of that species anywhere. She said it was originally from Siberia, and that it can only be grown from plant divisions, not from seed. My grandmother died in 1994, and gave me this plant years before that, so it has been growing in my garden quite a while.

When I told my cousin Tom that the Absciassica was in bloom, he asked if I wanted a piece of the cactus he gave Irene decades ago. He took the plant back after she died, and apparently this cactus has had many generations of cactus offspring since then. Next time I see him, he'll give me a pot with one of the "babies."

We talked about the connection that these plants give us with our much-loved deceased relatives. There is something nice about the stuff that used to be theirs, and now is ours. I wear a coat and some shirts that used to be my Dad's. We have a ceramic lamp that I made for my Mom and took back after her death. These things give us a feeling of presence that we miss after our dear ones die. They aren't as important as the memories, but they lend a physicality to those memories. For me, this is particularly true of the generations of living cells in plants that Irene once grew, and that propagate now in our garden.

With that in mind, take a look at this "white forsythia" growing in our back yard garden.It's really a cousin of the yellow forsythia, not a true forsythia, although both are members of the olive family. This was one off the plants my grandmother gave us when we moved into this house in Guilford. What makes it special is its fragrance. We spend about a week or 10 days each early spring going daily to smell the white forsythia while it's in bloom. It has a sweet, intense smell, without being overpowering. If you live near us, come experience it in the next few days! Otherwise -- put on your calendar to come see us next year in late March or early April. That's when our spring garden really starts flowering, and you can visit with my grandmother Irene's primrose and smell the white forsythia!

The Dread Pirate Noodles

Friday night we went to see our niece Alma in Peter Pan. She played the role of Noodles, one of Capt. Hook's pirates. It was a supporting role, which she filled with energy, humor, and intensity, without detracting from the ensemble. The show as a whole was very entertaining, and very well staged.

There were inevitably parts of the show I enjoyed less; it is an aging show which the Pioneer Valley Performing Arts school had re-worked. I found the ballad "Neverland" to be tedious and insipid. On the other hand, the PVPA cast performed a great dance number in place of the awful "Ugg-A-Wugg."

Despite any ups or downs, the real star of the show was the power of theater. We went to the play to admire Alma, but no matter who was on stage my attention kept returning to the plot. I would see Alma creep in from the left in self-mocking dangerous pirate fashion, and then be drawn back to Hook's next over-the-top song ("Who's the swiniest swine in the world? ... Captain Hook, Captain Hook!). I would feel that a musical number was lagging, and then forget my concern as Wendy slumped to the ground, shot by a toy arrow. I admired the magnificent sets, and then they disappeared for me when Peter Pan was captured by the pirates. My thoughts drifted to the drive to New Hampshire still awaiting us after the play, and then my attention returned to Peter Pan's confusion and sorrow when he came the second time to Wendy's room and found her "grown up."

Some of the "magic" in the theater is what the company creates. But some of the magic is going on in our brains. We very much want to engage in the plot, and no matter what else is going on (from wonderful nieces to awkward stage moments) we are ready to jump on the plot's roller-coaster and hang on. It's almost always a great ride for me.

Pouring Rain

It is raining cats and dogs. Our basement has flooded (again) and Amy is going down to turn on the pump (which appears to be leaking, I think we're due for our 5th pump since we bought the house). It is expected to continue raining for another day or two.

This afternoon we put on gear and went for a walk in the woods. Amy had her raincoat, rain pants, and rubber boots up to her knees; she declared herself "impervious." The stream was gushing, almost up to the sagging plank bridge we laid across some years ago. It was wet all over, but we couldn't stand to stay bottled up in the house. (Rebecca preferred bottled up to wet.)

There was magic outside, though. Water droplets hung like jewels from the small branches of trees, all through the woods. But you had to look very closely to see the best bit of magic:
The droplet acts as a spherical lens. Looking through it, you can see the trees rising up to the light of the sky.

All that on a rainy day. Imagine what we'll see when the sun comes out!

In The Stacks

We visited Bowdoin this weekend for Sarah to take a look. We had been on campus for about 15 minutes when (in the Hawthorne-Longfellow Library, in the basement, looking for a bathroom...) we found ourselves peering between these bookshelves. Credit Sarah for telling me to take the picture. If it appears to you that a person could not fit between these shelves to look at the titles, you are right. Here's what the stacks look like:
We had to stare at the three-pronged devices for five minutes before we noticed the tracks on the floor below, and realized that the side controls can be turned to move the shelves slowly and smoothly along the track, creating enough room between the shelves so that you can browse. We then imagined a movie scene in which someone, standing between the stacks and entranced by a particular volume, fails to notice that the evil character is silently sandwiching the stacks closer, and closer ........

In uploading these photos, I was delighted to realize that the red volume on the second shelf down is entitled Experiencing. How wonderfully appropriate!! While we were at Bowdoin, we experienced
... two student practitioners of Taiko drumming/dancing who demonstrated their loud and graceful art;
... the warmest day of the year, and a brilliant blue sky;
... meeting one of Sarah's Elm City Girls' Choir colleagues, randomly showing up at exactly the same college tour 4 hours from home.

On a completely separate bit of woolgathering: this is my 13th weekly post, my 1/4 year mark. 52 weeks in a year, 52 cards in a deck. I have tried to play from different suits to keep things interesting, so I think I still have lots of variety left in my hand.