dual personalities

For a change of pace and because I have nothing else to say, let’s imagine that time travel is possible. There are no language barriers and we don’t have to worry about being seen or disrupting the space-time continuum. The only rules are that you can’t go back to relive any part of your own life, and you can’t choose to witness big events — no vital biblical scenes (e.g. the last supper), no conquest of Everest, major battles or great scientific discoveries. The time machine will send you to some random day in the year and place you choose. Here are my picks represented via paintings, one for each season.

I’d definitely pay a spring visit to the ancient Near East c. 710 BC. I’d probably choose Nineveh rather than Jerusalem, but I liked this 19th century British watercolor better than the alternatives I found, so I settled for the latter.

Since I would definitely avoid the Near East in summer, I think I’ll choose Port Clyde, Maine c. 1925, as envisioned by N.C. Wyeth. I could spend the better part of the day scrambling along the rocks and then head home to drink tea, read, chat (assuming I had company) and play board games. I’d fall asleep to the sound of the ocean.

I can imagine a rainy autumn afternoon in Vermont, c. 1850. (Modern painting by Albert Gruppe.) After I have finished my daily chores, I might take a walk to visit a friend or just get some fresh air.

As for winter, you can drop me into the Netherlands in c. 1610 as represented by Pieter Brueghel the younger. I have no connection to the place other than liking the painting, but why not try something new?

I could go on and on, but I’ll stop here. The exercise has reinforced my growing tendency to withdraw from the world to simpler, if not better, times. I miss knowing where I stand and how I fit in. Everything is so topsy-turvy right now that I’m having a hard time keeping track of the new orthodoxies, which seem so determined to correct bad habits and redress wrongs that they are destined to throw the baby out with the bathwater (if I may use an old cliché without offending anyone). Excuse me while I go fiddle with my time machine…

And have a great weekend!

I am a broken record on this blog, but I don’t think anyone is complaining that this weekly post always amounts to “Katie continues to move / groove / be adorable.” We are lucky that this is the case!

Katie visited the doctor this week and was declared “very healthy.” I had the experience of a parent at the parent-teacher conference of an “A” student, who wanted the doctor to articulate every which way that Katie is “very healthy.” I also went to the appointment armed with questions since it’s been 3 whole months since we saw the doctor. His response to most of them was, “She is happy? And gaining weight? She’s fine!” The exception was when he said “It’s wintertime?” in response to my question about a dry patch on Katie’s foot. Good to know!! (I do think, as a “pandemic mom” with basically no real-time comparisons for my baby, I get a pass for being a little neurotic.)

Now for the fun updates:

Katie can pull herself up to kneeling, which affords her the great privilege of banging on the coffee table and reaching for remotes and coffee cups. (You might notice that they are all pushed to the far edge in the above gif.) I finally child-proofed the shelves on the TV credenza, and now it seems like “all surfaces” are up next.

My photography is getting a little shoddy, as evidenced here, but it is because I have to keep more than one eye on Katie at all times now. Here she is exercising her reaching skills, often employed in the service of finding and grabbing non-toys. (Classic.)

The most fun reaching and climbing takes place on top of a parent — I have officially become a jungle gym.

In general, she continues to explore everything in ways that sometimes seem quite silly…

but are, of course, quite brilliant when you really think about it. (There’s that broken record!)

Do you ever have those days where you get dressed and you look okay and then you get to work and catch your reflection in something and you’re just like OH MYLANTA this outfit is unflattering!?? Just me? Okay. Well, let’s just say, my outfit did me no favors today. This tends to make me cranky.

Anyway, the most exciting thing that happened to me this weekend (other than getting my parents their first round of vaccines) was a trip to Columbia to pick up a fresh case of wine. On the drive back I heard Suzy Bogguss and Mary Chapin Carpenter on the radio. This really put me in the mood for some 90s country women.

Both of these videos are such 90s country videos.

Later, on Sunday, Allison Krauss made excellent sewing music. I also learned that Suzy Bogguss covered this song.

And since we’re talking about 90s country, we have to have some Shania.

Everyone is always so nostalgic for the 90s as if things were so much better then. But were they? I mean, the worst three years of my life (can you say Nipher Middle School) occurred during the 90s…but I digress.

Hope these brought you back to the good old days of the 90s before the internet ruined our lives.

Believe it or not, when I sit down to write these posts, I always intend to be positive and cheerful, though it rarely works out that way. Today, I thought that poems about spring would be a happy subject, but wouldn’t you know that the poems I like best are anything but cheerful. Take this real downer from Edna St. Vincent Millay:

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

I don’t feel that way — not by a long shot — although it’s easy to imagine someone being depressed enough to write such verse. To people in pain spring must seem almost like an insult. Yet I think the rest of us can be forgiven for letting balmy breezes and baby animals blind us to the floods, tornados, electrical storms, drowned crops and leaky roofs that accompany spring. Who wouldn’t prefer a bluebell wood

to a natural disaster?

Having acknowledged the Janus-like nature of Spring, let us turn to practicalities. At this time of year, although the snow still lies thick on the ground, I start planning household and garden projects, which for me means painting a room, cleaning out closets and planting flowers in pots. There’s something curiously comforting about these activities. I guess it’s nice to think I’ll actually get something done. Anyway, this year’s indoor project is going to be the pantry-closet. I plan to paint it and install proper shelving, etc., although I’m not going to go the professional closet design route. I’m looking for simplicity and functionality; something basic and affordable.

If anyone out there has any suggestions for how to organize an 8′ 10″ X 4′ space into an effective pantry, please share your ideas in the comments!

All of this brings me back to poor, depressed Edna St. Vincent Millay. If you’re feeling down, get busy! Pardon me if I sound trite, and I do not mean to dismiss serious depression, but following the “hands to work and hearts to God” rule has great results. Finishing any project that has required time and effort is bound to raise our spirits.

Lately, Katie’s favorite activity has been unstacking her basket of books and surrounding herself with the books.

She is remarkably strong and can topple the entire basket over when she feels like it. I am so amused by this and love to observe her fascinated inspection of every different book. So many shapes and sizes! (And tastes — mmm, cardboard.)

This activity is one among many that shows how Katie is growing more independent and willful. She knows what she wants and she goes for it! She still can’t crawl forward when reaching for different things, but we are getting closer to that every day. (And we are bracing ourselves. A playpen has been purchased!)

I thought about writing a quiz, à la my mother’s movie quizzes, based on Katie’s inspiring interest in her board books, but I wasn’t sure how that would land. Would I quiz you on quotes from baby classics (“‘If you become a bird and fly away from me,’ said his mother, ‘I will be a tree that you come home to.'”) or from adult classics (“And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces.”)? Well, you are off the hook, because I do not have the bandwidth for either version.

Happy reading!