Variation on a theme

I just looked out the window and saw this:

Nice variation on the header, don't you think?

What I hear:  Violin practice, a bus stopping outside, sparrows, friends arriving at the neighbors' for Rosh Hoshanah, other neighbors singing Happy Birthday to their daughter, who turns four today.  

Some things I've learned about food

There, how hard can that be?

But as I started yesterday to write down some things that I've learned about food, I discovered just how complex the subject really is.  After all, food is one of the three basic "necessities of life." It's nutritional, political, artistic, social, emotional and historical--and probably many other things as well.

As tempted as I am to try write down a complete philosophy of food here, I think that concrete examples are more descriptive in their own way, so I think I'll just list some of the aspects of things I've learned about food since I started my foray into local and seasonal foods about three years ago.  Admittedly I started from the depths of ignorance, so don't be too shocked at what I consider worthwhile knowledge!

1. What grows when:  If you know to expect beets from your CSA or market in June, leafy greens in July, and the flourishing of all kinds of tomatoes in August, you get a feel for what dishes you can cook most easily when, and have time to find recipes that use your ingredients well.  The more you know and practice, the better you get at it, and the more fun you can have!  But most of all, cooking seasonally has revolutionized the way I cook.  It's been the launching point for a lot of other learning about food.  

2. What varieties of each food are likely to be available locally, what what each is best for:  Plum tomatoes for sauce, Sweet 100s for salads and to go with mozzarella and basil, beefsteaks for sandwiches.  Fuji's are good for eating and salsa, Macintoshes are slightly tart, Romes are for baking, Granny Smiths are all-purpose.   Squashes, beans, potatoes--they all have their varieties and best uses.  

Cherry tomatoes are great with basil, mozzarella and balsamic vinegar.  And it's easy, too!

3. Food prep: How to efficiently dice vegetables, the rocking motion of a knife, how to get the milk out of an ear of corn, using cilantro stems but not parsley stems, how to boil a tomato to peel it easily, and how to roast a pepper to peel it (still trying to figure out the best method for my oven on that one).  These are all handy to know.  I've been gleaning lots of tips from Deborah Madison's cookbooks and James Peterson's The Essentials of Cooking.

4. How the foods interact, or how to make bases:  Saute the onions and celery before adding tomatoes so they won't float.  Make a chicken broth using vegetables and a whole chicken, veal bones, or even chicken feet to get the health benefits of the cartilage.  How to make a decent hollandaise (I still goof this sometimes), or an aioli, or an all purpose marinade out of what you have on hand. I've learned to make tomato sauce this year, too.  And of course, C.Z. is learning to bake with yeast. Knowing these things makes it easier to put a really tasty meal together faster, once you've spent a day or two, as you have time, learning or prepping the bases.  

C.Z.'s challah

5. How to stock a pantry:  Alice Waters has a nice list in her book, The Art of Simple Food.  There are dry staples, and perishable staples.  Who knew that salted capers could be so useful? The perishable staples have always been a sticking point for me, because if I try too many different kinds of recipes at once, I either wind up constantly running to the store at the last minute or having to throw out rotting food from my refrigerator.  And then there's the whole matter of trying to use dried beans, which I never can seem to time right to use with my all-too-perishable and not-at-all-local avocados and mangoes, but I'm trying to get the hang of it.  (Also, see number 8 on planning, below.)

6. Which equipment is worth having, and which is superfluous:  I was given lots of gadgets when we lived in suburbia, many of which I never used, so I left most of them behind when we moved to Manhattan.  For the next seven years we lived in one-bedroom apartments with galley kitchens and very little cabinet space, so for a long time I was a ridiculously minimalist cook, slicing onions on a plate with a steak knife.  Gradually I have learned that a few simple tools are worth the space they take up, and the expense of buying quality versions.  I like my chef's knife, my paring knife, my zester, my cutting boards, my coffee grinder, and my blender.  I even bought a second coffee grinder this weekend to use as a spice mill.  But I still don't own a toaster oven! Perhaps I should break down and buy one, but the idea of having one more appliance cluttering up my still small kitchen remains a net negative.

7. Preserving:  How long can you really keep corn in the refrigerator before it loses its sweetness?  How do I tell whether an egg is still good for Hollandaise, baking, or nothing? I only have a small side-by-side freezer, but I keep chicken broth and pesto in it, and this year, corn. So far I've made no forays into canning or preserving, but I could see possibly trying it one day, especially for preserves. 

A chalkboard list of vegetables from early summer

8.  Planning:  I've never been much of an advance menu person, since for some reason it conjures up an image of a spreadsheet filled with frozen tuna noodle casseroles.  This is an unfair characterization, I'm quite sure, and I probably need to get over it.  But I'm not at all adverse to writing down a list of my available vegetables on a chalkboard in the kitchen each week, so they'll be in my mind as I read cookbooks and plan meals for about three days out. Admittedly, some amount of planning is preferable to frequently standing at the refrigerator with the door open at 6:30 and thinking, "I have to do takeout.  There's not a whole meal in here."  (Can you tell I've been there?)  I also find that vegetarian cooking with pasta is a nice way to fill in the weekly gaps without resorting to Chipotle.  

9. Costs: Is this cost efficient?  I really like what Rick Saenz had to say this weekend about the cost efficiency of making your own foods.  The short answer is no, but it's satisfying nonetheless. His family is trying to work their way into a totally alternative, agrarian economy.  I can sympathize, but since our family lives in of one of the most cash-intensive cities of the world (notwithstanding the events of the last couple of weeks), I can't kid myself.  Of course we spend a fortune on food.  But my goal is simply to make the best and most nutritious food I can at a reasonable price, and to have fun doing it.  And hopefully, at least in New York terms, I can at least avoid the expensive take out, gourmet food counter, and trendy restaurant habits that so many fall into just because they "don't cook."  This is fine, I'm sure, if you're a young working single, in the city for the thrilling experience of it, who eats at her desk while working late, or who goes out to socialize.  But since I stay home all day and my daughter considers cooking something of a bonding experience, and since I have so many places to obtain quality ingredients, including my own planter boxes, it would really be a shame if I didn't take advantage of it and learn the art of cooking.

And of course, there are all those macro-economic reasons to eat locally and buy fair trade, which I think are good reasons, but they're beyond the scope of what I'm talking about today, and I'm sure you can find perfectly good explanations elsewhere!  (Check out Rick's blog, above, some good ones, by the way.)

C.Z.'s homemade pizza.  Much better than takeout!

So there you have it:  A very incomplete explanation of our family's approach to food!

Squirrel weather, sparrow weather

There's a certain kind of weather that particularly inspires me to appreciate my neighborhood, perhaps because it matches the busyness of Broadway so well.  And yesterday we had just that kind of weather.  A nor'easter type storm was starting to blow in, and it was gray and windy. The wind seemed to shift the whole mood of the city, because wind is characteristic of winter here.  In January, you can almost get blown off your feet when you hit the bend in Broadway at 108th.  Yesterday was not cold (only about 60), but the wind stirred up the trash and dry leaves, and people had dug out their jackets from their packed closets.  Some wore scarves, at least of the lighter weight wrap-around type.  There was, of course, more black; I saw one woman in an especially admirable black patent-leather rain jacket.  I wore my battered brown leather jacket, for many years the first layer of defense in my winter arsenal, as I made my way up Broadway, twice, for vegetables. 

Our neighborhood 

At the Thursday Columbia market at 116th, people were busy as squirrels buying produce. And no wonder--the new cauliflowers had arrived.  Traditional greenish-white, spirally yellow-green Romanesco, acorn gold, and purple varieties were all laid out on the tables for display.  Peppers abounded, hot and sweet, in every shape and color including long, streaked red and green. Fingerling potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions and Delicata squash were out.  And the wooden bins were just starting to fillup  with new apples.  These are all the foods that make people, even city folks, think of overwintering.  Never mind that we don't have dry storage cellars or rafters!  I bought some peppers, onions and grass-fed ground beef for spaghetti sauce.  My kitchen window is already overrun with tomatoes of at least three kinds, including the sauce-worthy plums, so I had decided it was time for a vat of spaghetti. 

When I got home, I went to the roof to pick Sweet 100s and get some chives for our lunch of potato leek soup.   Despite the unkempt look of the planter boxes now--the basils anemic, the roses mostly hips, the chives full of straw, and the tomato stems starting to yellow--my riotous Miracle-Gro box is still producing a couple dozen marble-sized tomatoes every week.  I picked these and clipped some chives, and then pulled up my long-dry cilantro plant for its coriander seeds.  I tried one.  It had a surprising flavor for a tiny, dry brown pod.  Then I took some oregano from the community box for my sauce.  By this time I felt like a regular Goody Tiptoes.

At mid-afternoon, I went back to 114th for our CSA pickup.  There I got more of the same vegetables I had already bought, but considering that I had promised our neighbors some sauce for a potluck and the farmers' market was now packing up, I didn't regret having already purchased most everything I needed.  Now all I had to do was go by West Side Market for some hot Italian sausage.

Along the way home, the cafes still had their outdoor seating set up, but few people were sitting at the tables.  Children with and without school uniforms were milling about on the way home, the younger ones strolling along contentedly with moms or sitters and perhaps a friend or two, the older ones occupying street corners territorially and in thick droves so that no one minding their own business could get through without a plan of attack.  House Sparrows, to escape the wind, were taking shelter in every nook and cranny, including the signs above stores. I saw two perched in the letters P and O of the word "Professional."  There was still a feeling of lively scurrying all up and down the street.  No doubt if we'd gone to Riverside Park, the real squirrels would have been in full swing, too.  

Back at home, I worked with C.Z. on algebra and writing.  The algebra is going fine so far, though she has a quirky goal of never, ever putting the pencil to paper.  (I'm not worried, even though this does mean I have to listen to her answers instead of reading them later. I think she likes the remnant of sofa time.) For writing, she wants to analyze orchestral scores, which is a challenge.  This is essentially technical writing, which is hard to do, so I asked her to please not take it personally if her attempts bleed ink for a while.  I tried to comfort her by telling her that loads of academics can't write this stuff either.  Is this the right approach?  Oh, heavens, I don't know! But since musical analysis is all she wants to write, we're going with it.  I figure I'm a pretty good test for comprehension, since I have no idea what she's talking about, musically speaking, and so she has to make it clear enough for me to understand!  

Meanwhile, orchestra seating auditions are this weekend, and the chamber group, er, three-ring circus, is in continual dramatic flux.  I assume these things will eventually settle out and everyone will get down to the business of making music.  C.Z.'s audition passages from the Schubert symphony have a tendency to sound like a smoke alarm going off, and I admit that I'm really looking forward to the shift back to Mozart.  I hope they get to play that Violin and Piano sonata on my link above, because it's the one we heard the Emerson String Quartet play a couple of months ago, and I really like it.

Today the nor'easter is here in earnest, and it's pouring outside.  I wonder what the squirrels and sparrows, both actual and metaphorical, are doing today.   

Sparrow in sign image courtesy of Creative Commons on Flickr. 

Fifth Avenue Mile

Yesterday after church our family scooted across the park to watch our seventh straight Fifth Avenue Mile.  It's one of our favorite races.  People from 8 to 98 run down this famous street, from the Metropolitan Museum to the Plaza Hotel, according to age group and gender.  Times range from men's pro winner Nick Willis's 3:50.5 to almost-centenarian Abe Weintraub's 22:10.  There are local elites, Achilles runners, those fast kids from Team Rabbits USA, and plenty of ordinary recreational runners.  The weather is typically gorgeous.

C.Z. was the first member of our own family to run in this race.  I think she was "officially" eight, although in reality, she wasn't quite seven.  (They just group you with the eight-year-olds until you're old enough.)  She ran it from 2001 until 2006 and then retired.  Bob has officially run it twice, not counting the first couple of years that he ran down the sidewalk after C.Z. so that she wouldn't have to be alone at the finish line.  Various visiting friends and family have run the race, too, including one of my nieces and Susan L.'s daughter Melissa.  And we almost always know some local friends in the race, from neighbor kids to Bob's training partners to his co-worker Judith Tripp, who won her age group yesterday.

One of my favorite heats in this race is the 70+ group.  Plenty of these men and women could still beat me any day.  Who knows what I'll be doing at 70, but I hope I can at least still manage a fast walk, if not a bit of a run!  So, they're inspiring to me--the kid who, at five, asked my parents if grownups could run, because I'd never seen any do so. 

But of course, for sheer elegance, it's pretty hard to beat the pro race.  I love watching the elites glide uptown for the start in their warm ups, then glide back down faster than any human should be able to run.  Yesterday, shortly after most of the men had already headed up for their start, I was chatting with friends and out of the corner of my eye, caught sight a lone runner jogging leisurely up the avenue.  He was about to pass by about a foot in front of me when I suddenly realized that he wore the perpetually pleased expression of Bernard Lagat.  Nick Willis edged him out by one tenth of a second in the end, but he's still a favorite of ours from all those Wanamaker Miles.  Bob saw him posing for photos at the end of the race and leaned into the crowd to shake his hand.  This is about as close as our family gets to celebrity worship. 

(And Susan, Nick Symmonds was there, too!) 

The New York Road Runners Club, who organizes this race, has a nice overall write up, and some great photos.  Meanwhile, I'll post my own personal favorite Fifth Avenue Mile photo, from 2006, when Bob caught an unexpected glance of Flat Stanley while on his way to a respectable 5:14 in the men's 40-45 heat.  

Chesterton on the importance of the Brontes

I'm typing using someone else's ideas today, because I am overstimulated from the first day of co-op yesterday and will probably spend all of today working it in mentally.  But using someone else's ideas is not necessarily a bad thing, particularly if they're good ideas and they apply somehow to your own life.  

While waiting for Bob to finish David Copperfield, I've picked up a slim volume of Chesterton's called Twelve Types.  They are short essays on the importance of various authors, his reasons not always being the ones people readily suppose.  I started reading in the back, with Tolstoy and Sir Walter Scott, and have now wandered back to the front of the book to the Brontes and William Morris.  

Of course, it's always hard to dive into the middle of a Chesterton paragraph. Somehow he is easier to take either as a whole, or one quotable sentence at a time.  He has a way of writing in stereo, so that your mind has to process disparate elements and, from a distance, see the whole.  And his paragraphs are long.  But it's almost always worth the effort, as this one was for me:

"The great and abiding truth for which the Bronte cycle of fiction stands is a certain most important truth about the enduring spirit of youth, the truth of the near kinship between terror and joy.  The Bronte heroine, dingily dressed, badly educated, hampered by a humiliating inexperience, a kind of ugly innocence, is yet, by the very fact of her solitude and her gaucherie, full of the greatest delight that is possible to a human being, the delight of expectation, the delight of an ardent and flamboyant ignorance.  She serves to show how futile it is of humanity to suppose that pleasure can be attained chiefly by putting on evening dress every evening, and having a box at the theatre every first night.  It is not the man of pleasure who has pleasure; it is not the man of the world who appreciates the world.  The man who has learnt to do all conventional things perfectly has at the same time learnt to do them prosaically.  It is the awkward man, whose evening dress does not fit him, whose gloves will not go on, whose compliments will not come off, who is really full of the ancient ecstasies of youth.  He is frightened enough of society to enjoy his triumphs.  He has that element of fear which is one of the eternal ingredients of joy.  This spirit is the central spirit of the Bronte novel.  It is the epic of the exhilaration of the shy man.  As such it is of incalculable value in our time, of which the curse is that is does not take joy reverently because it does not take it fearfully.  The shabby and inconspicuous governess of Charlotte Bronte, with the small outlook and the small creed, has more commerce with the awful and elemental forces which drive the world than a legion of lawless minor poets.  She approached the universe with real simplicity, and consequently, with real fear and delight.  She was, so to speak, shy before the multitude of the stars, and in this she had possessed herself of the only force which can prevent enjoyment being as black and barren as routine.  The faculty of being shy is the first and most delicate of the power of enjoyment.  The fear of the Lord is the beginning of pleasure."

Yesterday I walked down the subway platform to find a young homeschooled friend reading Jane Eyre as her family waited for the train to co-op.  I was happy for her, as I nostalgically remembered being enthralled with Wuthering Heights at about the same age.  I have often wondered since why it was that I was so swept away at twelve by a book that was all about violent, idolatrous people who are never happy for more than brief moments.  I had always told myself that it must have been because Emily Bronte did such a excellent job of describing the misery of passion that I found it satisfying artistically. But I've read many first rate books over the years, and I can still remember enough of what I felt about Wuthering Heights to realize that aesthetic appreciation doesn't quite cover it.  I think that Chesterton has just given me a hint.  

At twelve, I was an awkward and shy child, in the midst of a series of moves, whose parents were going through a difficult time, and who had little or no experience in the world except that found in books. Now I am watching my own child go through the same stage of life, and it brings back some of those Bronte-ish feelings.  We always hope to soften some of the edges of what we experienced for our own children, but even so, we find we are not always omnipotent, or even competent, and that the early teens can be a bit shy and awkward for everyone, whether you have a box at the theater now and then or not.  

It is not entirely true that the Brontes were totally untutored, of course.  They did eventually have contact with some of the writers of their time, and their books were not entirely the product of a isolated and imaginative existence in a windswept and gloomy parsonage.  But surely, the terrors and joys of childhood did have something to do with the powerful stories they wrote as young adults. And surely, if Chesterton found something of value in the Brontes for his own age, we of an age where many five-year-olds are jaded already, and where all experiences preferably come predigested, padded, and psychologized, can learn even more from the terror and joy of the shy Brontes.

Early fall birds at Jamaica Bay

Glossy Ibises are common at Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge

With fall getting suddenly quite busy, C.Z. and I decided to sneak out to Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge today before we looked up and it was January.  Yes, our priorities are in order--outdoor learning first!  (Well, maybe books first.  But sometimes it's close.)  The excuse may have been birds, but we mostly just wanted to get out in the open one more time before it got cold.  So off we went for a 2-hour commute on the A train to Broad Channel Island, near JFK airport.  

When we got to the refuge, we noticed right away that the place already looked quite different than it had in June and July when we'd been out there for several days to help researchers with nesting turtles. The vegetation was mostly thicker and overgrown, but already the honeysuckle had mostly disappeared and many of the plants sported berries.  I wish that I'd had my camera for one of the berry bushes, because its berries were in a lovely array of greens, blues and pale lavenders that reminded me of eggs raised on small farms.  The mature berries were deep red.  Some of the vines were starting to turn bright red, too, even though the leaves on the trees won't turn for another month. The weather had turned yesterday from muggy and summer hot to breezy and almost cool, and though I wore short sleeves, I occasionally felt a slight chill in the cloudy weather.  

The terrapin trail was now open, and I wondered what had happened to all the nesting turtles. We found a few protective nest cages, still marked.  Had many terrapins hatched safely and made it to overwintering spots on the island, or had raccoons eaten most of the eggs?  Were some turtles, for now, still crawling around in the underbrush?  (One thing that the Hofstra University researchers we worked have discovered through their work is that baby Diamondback Terrapins overwinter on land.  One usually thinks of baby saltwater turtles going back into the water.)  We felt nostalgic and even a bit proprietary walking down the trail, which we knew quite well from watching turtles and marking nests this summer.

 

A Snowy Egret, with those yellow feet

As for birds, we noticed right away that there were lots and lots of wading birds--Great Egrets, Snowy Egrets, Black-Crowned Night Herons, Yellow-Crowned Night Herons, Tricolor Herons, Glossy Ibises, and several other birds with stilty legs.  And not only was there a lot of variety, but for most species we saw lots and lots of each.  Greater Yellowlegs skirted around in great flocks, circling over the water and making their peeping sound.  Usually they're just wading when I see them. My favorite wading birds of the day, though, were the Snowy Egrets because they have black legs with yellow feet, which makes them look a little like Mickey Mouse!   

What we really didn't see that much of, surprisingly, were ducks.  Usually the West Pond is full of them, and happily some of them wear their breeding plumage in winter, so that gives one something fun to look for on fall and winter birding trips.  We did, however, see a Wood Duck (in breeding plumage) in the blind near the East Pond.  Since I've only seen one in the wild once before, that was a satisfying duck find.  

A Wood Duck in breeding plumage.  Almost looks fake, doesn't it?

We also enjoyed seeing a whole family of Mute Swans and a juvenile Laughing Gull begging for food from its mother.  There were even a couple of early-arriving Snow Geese.  No Black Skimmers this time, though.

We saw a good many songbirds, too, though we saw many for such a very short time that they were hard to identify.  Many of the warblers, in particular, go drab olive at this time of year.  Peterson's Field Guide has a page on "confusing fall warblers" which helps.  C.Z. and I have started calling them C.F.W.s for short.  (Not that saying "W" aloud is really that short.)  We had no trouble, however, identifying a Black-Throated Blue Warbler in the North Garden.  "Take a good look," I said of this favorite bird, "We may not see another one for a long time."  Some of the C.F.W.s or other non-breeding birds we saw today were a Common Yellowthroat, Redstarts (a misnomer, since they're yellow this time of year), and an American Goldfinch.  And I think a Pine Warbler.  

Now, I don't suppose that many of my readers are birders.  (I don't even suppose that there are many of you!)  So, maybe some of these species names are a little more detail than you ever wanted to know ;-).  But for me, the combination of being outside in a lovely marsh and getting to do a little sleuthing, all at once, is not a bad way to spend a day.  We had a very nice, quiet day, often quite alone and feeling safe enough (no small thing in NYC), and we saw about thirty species of birds, all told.  And since every time we've been to the park lately, mostly all the birds we've seen have been very raucous and aggressive robins, I thought it notable that we saw not one robin all afternoon!

May your outside days be enjoyable, however far you have to commute for them!

All images are from Wikipedia Commons or Creative Commons on Wikipedia.

Observations upon beginning the "school year"

This week I've been talking with some other local moms about this activity and that, now that they are all starting up again.  People are coming in from out of town, gearing up their calendars, and generally behaving like squirrels before winter.  Some of it's quite natural and fun, and I'm glad to see everyone. But after penciling in the umpteenth activity in my calendar yesterday, I began to have a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach.  I like people, and I'll go a good bit out of the way to be around them now and then, but it is really worth all this?  Can't we just do one activity? When are we going to daydream?  Sit around and read books?  Cook?   Is there anything that I can gracefully back out of here? Will anyone just come goof off with us, or do we have to have a program?

Here is something else I'm thinking about:  I have a "middle schooler," whatever that is. There's a lot of talk about independence.  Everybody is letting their children travel around to activities.  The kids have their own friends instead of doing things with their siblings.  They are joining youth group. They do their schoolwork by themselves. Sometimes the child wants to go to high school and the parent says, "Sure."  All this freedom!  And yet academically, it seems as though their homeschooling freedom is dissolving.  They are are writing term papers, doing lab work, beefing up their reading lists, doing test prep. 

How is it that our our home, we've somehow managed to take the opposite course?  C.Z. walks a few places by herself, but it's not like she's ever been excited about it or anything.  She doesn't care that much about shopping with other girls, comparing cell phone ring tones, or going to movies.  She probably has fewer friends than she did at six, eight or ten, while everyone does this fruit-basket-turn-over thing.  She talks fondly of the other kids at music school, but she's happy to eat lunch with us during her long break and isn't worried about what the other kids are doing.  She has no particular interest in youth group.  

And yet, academically, the situation is reversed:  She picks her own reading list, writes privately in her journal, and in her favorite subject, music, she outpaced me long ago.  There are still a few subjects where I ask her do something, but frankly, we never do a full schedule of academics. Who can pay attention to that many things at one time? This is not to say that I don't want an academically challenging homeschool.  If anything, I'd like one that is more challenging than she could do with a full schedule.  It's just that I think that for her to learn in any depth, she has to pick the topics, as she is ready for them, and she has to pick a few at a time to concentrate on. 

It's not the term papers or labs per se, of course.  It's the general tendency to fill in the blanks.  I really like to leave some of the blanks blank.  Let's say they're margins, for doodling.

How did we get to be so different?  I'm sure some of it has to do with the particular people that we are.  There are probably kids who beg for schedules, who positively thrive checking off lists and joining a bunch of extracurricular activities, or who long to test themselves against the mettle of a large, competitive high school.  But we're happiest more or less doing what we always do, what homeschoolers used to call a lifestyle of learning.  And I think we'll keep doing it, thank you. Would someone like to join us?  

A Simple Woman's Daybook

The Simple Woman's Daybook

I always mean to do one of these, but I always forget.  So, better late than never!

Outside my window, on the street side, the playground is closed, the sun is setting on the buildings, creating a pink glow, and people are coming home from work. There's the continual roar of traffic, but it's background noise.  It's actually remarkably quiet out there this evening! 

I am thinking that I really love the serendipity of New York, especially the violin shops.  Today we went to get C.Z.'s bow re-haired, and as we approached the shop, we heard strains of the Sibelius violin concerto coming from an open window.  We hurried in to find a massive man playing up a storm--Sibelius, Bach Partitas, Mendelssohn, Paganini.  The violin looked like a toy on his shoulder, and rested easily there.  He was trying out bows.  

From the learning rooms.  C.Z. is picking out Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet, arranged for piano, on our dinky plastic keyboard.  She doesn't play piano, but I guess it's close enough to violin.

I cajoled her into doing some Latin today.  And she read The Lord of the Rings.  

Bob is teaching himself Italian.  He keeps trying to e-mail me in Italian.  As might be expected, ours is a very limited conversation.

I am thankful for the remarkable freedom I have, to worship the Lord, to order my own days, to spend these days with my daughter at home.  I have a lot of choice about many aspects of my life.  

I am thankful for a husband who quietly does the right thing, year after year.  He likes to talk with me about books.  And he's even funny!

I am thankful for the amazing, interesting world we live in, with all its variety and beauty.

From the kitchen are lots of plum tomatoes in a steamer basket, waiting to be peeled.  In a few minutes, I'll make tomato sauce from them.  They are both red and yellow, so the sauce will be orange!  C.Z. just made a pizza crust, and it's sitting on the counter.  We also have Feta cheese for this pizza.

We had Yumm! bowls for lunch--at 2 p.m., because that's when we got home from our orthodontist appointment and the violin shop.

I am wearing camping shorts, my favorite (supposedly reversible) blue scoop neck T, and a dark green Strand apron.  My original outfit for the day is in the wash.  I am a messy eater.

I am reading Eusebius' The History of the Church.  

I am hoping that I can keep the calm sense of priorities that served us so well over the summer, in the face of increasing busyness.

I am creating a record of days, in my journal.  

I am hearing (in addition to Prokofiev) the swish-swish of the washer behind me.

Around the house, there are a number of books lying about.  Shoes also.  The kitchen counter is dusted with flour. There's corn silk and yeast by the window, next to the microscope.  I'm basking in the warm glow of books and bookshelves.  

One of my favorite things is having the family around the table for dinner.  Another is this time of day.  

A few plans for the rest of the week: Bob's birthday is on Wednesday!

Here is a picture thought I am sharing with you:

This is an orchid that belongs to a friend of mine who used to live in our building.  Her realtor bought it for an open house, but now they've moved already.  I've been taking care of it for a month, and today, it bloomed!  I let my friend know that it's blooming, so hopefully she can come get it while it's still pretty.  I never thought I'd have an orchid!

A catch-up post

Finally, a good use for the space basil.  Smells lovely!

That silence you heard here this week was school starting.  Not that we really start school in the sense of getting out a checklist and a planner, but there were some things that we did a little differently. There was a flurry of co-op correspondence.  We got used to the din of kids on the playground every day, and we walked upstream against Columbia students everywhere we went.  C.Z. started back with violin lessons from her regular teacher.  I even asked to see a piece of her writing.  

But probably the real reason I didn't post is that I spend most of Labor Day weekend reading Brideshead Revisited.  I had been put off by the cover of my version, which has images from the PBS series that make it look like something comical, perhaps out of Wodehouse.  But the reality is quite different, and I couldn't put the book down all weekend, so for the rest of the week I played catch-up.  

On Wednesday, we made our annual family Not-Back-to-School trek.  For the past three years, we've gone to the Hungarian Pastry Shop, a dimly lit Columbia hang out with an attitude and a touch of loopy St. John the Divine influence. The ordering process is cryptic, and the students stake out day-long tables with their laptops.  It's just the sort of place to make an "I don't have to be in class right now" statement.

But this year, we'd already eaten a lot pastry lately, so we decided to be different:  We went to the Bronx Zoo.  You can't really do the Bronx Zoo justice in one day, but we try, and every time we go, we find ourselves rushing back up to the north end of the zoo at 5 p.m., headachy and tired feet, but happy, in order to make sure we catch that last Liberty Lines bus back to Manhattan.  Over the years, we've developed three favorite emphases--rodents, monkeys, and birds.  

Here are some vignettes: 

We watched about two dozen mice of some kind in an 18" square enclosure.  They must have recently had babies, because the population density was just shy of having that swarming feel that can occasionally give me the willies about rodents.  It helped that these were furry.  They were chasing each other and running mindlessly in circles, and the little 2" creatures were so high strung that when one startled, it popped 8" into the air and landed right in an open cactus!  I figure that with such hair trigger reflexes, the animals can't possibly plan ahead of time where they're going to land.  

We visited the gorillas just as the keepers were throwing carrots and celery from an unseen point above our heads to a waiting group below.  The biggest gorilla, a silverback, not surprisingly had the best spot.  A little behind him was the sage of the group, a smaller male who used surprising ingenuity to fish carrots out of a little pond with his hands.  A little to one side, a child gorilla occasionally got beaned on the head with a carrot, just like you'd expect to see in an episode of The Three Stooges.  Some gorillas further back waited lazily, or perhaps submissively, for whatever came their way.  Another male ran furtively over the hill with both fists full of celery.  Apparently he had his dietary preferences and was making sure he didn't have to share too much.  We later found him around the corner wedged between a rock and the glass with his feet propped up, peeling celery leaves in a leisurely fashion and munching on the stalks.  All he needed was another gorilla to fan him and drop the stalks into his mouth.  

Gorillas at the Bronx Zoo (Mama is on the right. Don't you love her expression?)

Among the birds, we were pleased to find a Purple Swamphen, because C.Z. has always wanted to see a Purple Gallinule or a Moorhen, and this was a close relative.  She is amused by their big feet and chickenish behavior.  We were not terribly surprised to learn that they are relatives of the Coot, which may explain part of her interest.  C.Z. is a big fan of the Swallows and Amazons series, including Coot Club.

Purple Swamphen (image from Wikipedia Commons)

(If you have a video-capable computer, consider visiting the Bronx Zoo site above and having a look at some of the animal videos.  We watched the featured Spider Monkey baby for at least thirty minutes during our visit.  At one point, it grabbed onto a vine and missed, but slid down hanging by its arms.)

***

Our weather, quite far from being fallish, is downright tropical today, as Tropical Storm Hanna passes through.  We are having paper-curling-humid weather.  Still, the days are shorter, the leaves are beginning to turn sere and yellow, and the farmers' market offerings are showing signs of a shift.  As if by instinct, I've started putting up food.  First it was this week's CSA corn, which I shaved off into bags of two ears each and froze for use in tomato-beef-vegetable soup.  That will be good in the fall!  Then yesterday I bought one of those whole basil plants, stripped the leaves, chopped them up with olive oil, and put them into pre-measured bags for pesto and other recipes.  (Here's a link to some good directions for freezing basil.)  The first winter squashes are starting to appear, also the pears, and I bought some fennel for soup.  Next thing you know I'll be cooking with sage!

  

Farmers' market purchases this week (except for the not-local-at-all bananas!)

I've cooked a lot this week, but since it was a busy sort of week, I didn't photo document it or anything.  My favorite find was a late summer vegetarian spaghetti.  As usual, I found it in Local Flavors.  

***

Lastly, and somewhat uncharacteristically, here's a fashion item.  I am not much of a shopper.  In fact, I consider shopping somewhat in the same category as going through sorority rush or having to read the literature that comes in the mail from mutual funds--it's to be avoided whenever possible.  Yet, last spring I badly needed a new purse and my retailer sister suggested Orla Kiely, so when I saw this laminated lovely in the window of a local store, and then discovered that it not only had enough room for all my stuff (I carry a book at all times on the subway, and often a smoothie), but also several small pockets (including one for my cell phone, which I can never find in time), and even a key-ring clip and nice flaps on the ends to deter pickpockets, I knew this was the bag for me.

My handy, not-so-new-anymore purse

You know what?  Ever since I bought this purse, I've noticed them everywhere I go.  I see the easily recognizable Orla Kiely patterns walking down the street as diaper bags, as luggage, smaller purses, and in the same shape as mine.   My mom even wanted one for her birthday.  I think this is the first fashion trend I've participated in since I got a Gap sweater during Christmas break in college and saw myself coming and going when I got back.  Maybe I should to listen to my sister more often.

***

This is C.Z.'s first day back in her Saturday music program.  Bob and I met her for lunch and she filled us in with news of who moved up an orchestra or a section, what the new pieces were, and her hopes for chamber music later in the day.  We came back before the deluge began, C.Z. went on to music theory, and now Bob and I are sitting in our dark, quiet apartment with the windows open, listening to the rain.  I am getting sprayed with what practically feels like salt mist, several feet from an open window.  My fingers are sticking to the keyboard, and my normally straight-ish hair is sticking out like a Christmas tree.  Later we will be having a nice, pseudo-fall dinner involving a chicken, sage (see, I did start cooking with it), and a buttercup squash. 

***

Well, that'll teach me to go all week without blogging!  There's a bit of everything in this post.