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.