For Rent: Prime Real Estate

Posted on May 14, 2012 by Coming East

I have always wanted a house with a big front porch.  Big enough to have a porch swing.  Big enough to fit my whole family and then some.  I remember my grandparents in Ohio having a porch like that, and I remember how I loved to sit in the swing and watch the world go by.  At night, when I was small and had been put to bed, I would listen through the open window as the adults sat on the porch, laughing and sharing stories, the hot summer breeze rustling the curtains as their voices drifted into my upstairs room.

I remember when it was customary for people  to sit out on their front porches in the evening or on Sunday afternoons.  They’d bring out new babies and show them off to the neighbors.

My grandfather and oldest cousin, circa 1945

They’d share the latest neighborhood gossip and activities.  You knew if someone was ill and needed a casserole, or if someone was out of work and just needed to talk. You felt close to the people on your street because you’d watch them walk by and they’d stop to talk to you while you sat out on your front porch, and you’d do the same when you walked by theirs.

My great-grandfather, two great uncles, my grandmother, and in front of them, my mother in the middle of her two cousins

 

When did people stop sitting on their front porches?  Was it when television became so popular?  Was it when people moved out farther from the center of town and their homes had big back yards?  They built patios and bought picnic tables and never ventured out to their front porches anymore except to leave their houses.  People lost touch with what was happening in their neighborhoods.  They didn’t know who moved out and who moved in or who was ill, or who had died.  I know because a few weeks ago when I talked to my next door neighbor,  I found out that her husband had died.  I cried because I didn’t even know he had become so ill, and I never got to say goodbye.

One of my favorite walking routes takes me through a neighborhood with houses that have lovely front porches.  No matter what day I walk, I have never seen a soul sitting on one of them.  They are exactly the kind of porches that I have always wanted.  Big and shady, places for rockers and porch swings.  People should be out on them, sitting in the afternoon heat, drinking iced tea.  If one of them were mine, you can bet I’d be sitting on it, watching the world go by.


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Weekly Photo Challenge: Unfocused

Posted on May 10, 2012 by Coming East

I know I’ve posted this picture recently, but it was so perfect for this week’s photo challenge, I had to post it again. I caught this rabbit just as it was in the midst of a jump. Notice how everything else is still in focus, even the rabbit’s hind legs.

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Relics of the Past

Posted on May 9, 2012 by Coming East

On our wanderings through the Connecticut countryside this weekend, we came across many old stone walls, remnants from our agrarian past when early settlers cleared the land of forests in order to do their planting.  As they cleared more and more land, they exposed it to the freezing temperatures without the benefit of the natural mulching effect of the fallen leaves.  This freezing brought more and more glacial boulders to the surface.  The settlers, at first, simply stacked these stones to get them out of their way but then found they could also be useful to form boundaries for ownership or livestock or different crops.

These stone walls were not mortared, so they could not be very tall.  Most are only thigh-high. However, because they were not mortared, they have survived, whereas mortared walls have crumbled when the mortar decayed.  Most of the stone walls run through forests now as the agrarian economy faded and the fields were once more reclaimed by the trees.

I love to look at these stone walls and think about the people who built them so long ago, back in the eighteenth century.  They gave no thought to their efforts being a testimony a couple hundred years later to their hard work and ingenuity.  They were simply finding a way to make life work for them given what they had to work with, and yet here, so many years later, I am witness to those efforts.

When my father was dying, I sat with him and we talked about his life.  I recounted the time when he built our garage from scratch.  I was only about six, but I had a very clear picture of him sitting astride the rafters with his hammer, tanned and shirtless in the summer heat, muscles bulging as he swung that hammer again and again.  I thought he was the strongest and most handsome man alive.  As I sat at his bedside that day, his last, I told him that every time I returned to our old neighborhood, I looked at that garage and marveled that after more than fifty years, its walls were as straight as when they were first constructed.

“What you have built is still standing, Dad, stronger than ever.  What you have built will last.” I was speaking of his family, and we both knew it.

My brother, Dad, and I in front of the garage he built

My brother and I

Life is a balancing act, like the stones in those rock walls.  There is no mortar that will hold everything together.  We have to choose the right fit, piling one stone atop another, one decision, one accomplishment, one goal, one dream atop another, and hope it all holds together.  Just as in those walls, there is never a perfect fit, but there doesn’t have to be because, if enough are placed just right, the rest will hold up.  Chinks in the wall are perfectly acceptable.  In fact, the chinks, instead of mortar, are what make it strong.

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Life in the Slow Lane

Posted on May 8, 2012 by Coming East

Nearly a year ago, I wrote a post entitled “Star Struck” about the difference between city people and country people.  I was reminded of that this weekend while we attended a wedding in the tiny village of Lakeville, Connecticut, in the extreme northwest corner of the state, just three miles from the New York border.  Lakeville is surrounded by other little villages with English names like Salisbury and Cornwall that remind you that you are in New England, after all.

The bucolic setting was in such contrast to our hectic pace here in Virginia Beach where I hesitate to venture out in the car after 12 P.M. because of the traffic.  In Lakeville  the traffic signs signal a more peaceful way of life.  

My husband and I had most of Saturday free before we had to return to the inn for the lakeside ceremony, so we drove through the heavy mist, exploring the neighboring hamlets.  We came across a magical setting a few miles away in West Cornwall when we saw an old one-lane covered bridge.

View next to the bridge

The mist turned into drizzle, the drizzle turned into rain, and we ducked into a quaint little coffee shop on the other side of the bridge.  It could have been right out of a novel.

A hot cup of Earl Grey tea and a side of bacon tasted special in a place like this.

When the rain let up, we drove to Millerton, a little town on the border of Connecticut and New York.

Millerton is now home to Harney and Sons Tea merchants. Their tea shop is amazing! I know you’ve heard of a wine bar, but have you ever been to a tea bar?

After a hot cup of corn chowder, we headed back to Lakeville and our lovely cottage to get ready for the wedding ceremony and reception that followed.

Sunnyside Cottage at Interlaken Resort

The wedding ceremony took place with this beautiful sight as the backdrop.

My husband and I both agreed on two things:  First, we would love to come back to this area and explore it further.  It is truly beautiful and quaint and has many interesting craft shops, antique and art stores worth looking into.  Second, we could never live here!  As stunningly beautiful as it is, the pace of life and the quiet is not something we city folk could have a steady diet of and survive.

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Monday Morning Update

Posted on May 7, 2012 by Coming East

I’m driving home to Virginia this morning and thought I’d give you a quick update on my weekend. I can’t manage more than that because it’s difficult to write on my iPad while bouncing along the New Jersey Turnpike at seventy miles per hour (don’t worry—hubby is doing the actual driving, but I have to keep my eyes on the road to make comments along the way).

Anyway, there is good news and bad news. The good news is that I did fit into my dress, and the bulges were mostly hidden behind the cloth napkin on my lap as I consumed more than my fair share of the goodies.

The bad news is that, after working so hard to fit into that dress, I found that all eyes were on the bride. Imagine that!

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Get Thee Behind Me, Satan, and Don’t Push

Posted on May 3, 2012 by Coming East

While browsing through my email this morning, I came across this from Williams-Sonoma:  “Caphalon waffler, $49 plus free shipping, four days only.”  Waffles?  I’ve always wanted a waffle iron!  My mother had one, and I remember her making the batter and adding diced apples and some cinnamon, or she would slice up strawberries to put on top with a little whipped cream for garnish.  Sometimes we had breakfast for dinner as she made her waffles and served them alongside little sausages.  I WANT THAT WAFFLE IRON!

Excuse me for shouting.  It’s just that it’s been years since I’ve had bread of any kind.  Okay, it’s been three weeks and two days, but it seems like years.  I’ve been following this Paleo diet thing for that long now, wanting to look fantastic in the dress I’m wearing to the wedding we’re attending this weekend.  Okay, I’m just wanting to fit into the dress I’m going to wear to the wedding.  I’ve at least accomplished that last part.  I have managed to lose a total of close to ten pounds, if you consider almost three pounds as being close to ten pounds.  My husband, on the other hand, has lost a total of eight pounds.  Eight pounds in three weeks!  Why do men lose weight faster then women?

I will have to admit this Paleo diet has been good for us.  I think I do actually feel better.  My husband was very happy with his weight this morning, and he said his clothes are fitting him so much better.  I took a good look at him this morning, so handsome in his striped blue pinpoint dress shirt and tie, and realized there really is a change in him.  I commented, “You are looking really great, honey!” to which he replied, “It’s all thanks to you.”  So it’s a no-go on the waffler.

But I’m going to eat whatever I want during this wedding weekend!

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Together

Posted on May 1, 2012 by Coming East

I captured these two young lovers at Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  Besides being a tender moment, this picture is ironic in that these two epitomize the exuberance and joy of life amid the gravestones representing the end of life.

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Finding Buried Treasure

Posted on April 30, 2012 by Coming East

Sunday my husband and I went to the Chrysler Museum’s new glass studio to watch a world-class glass artist, Debora Moore, perform her art.

Debora Moore is the one seated

It takes several people and precise timing to help the artist "build" an orchid.

We’ve been meaning to go since it opened and finally found an opportunity yesterday.  It was an amazing experience watching her and her helpers compose one of her orchids.  We’ve been members of the Chrysler Museum of Art in Norfolk since we moved here three and a half years ago.  Joining was one of the first things we did, because an investment in the arts has always been important to us.  When we lived in San Antonio, we were members of the McNay Art Museum, another amazing institution.

Many museums across the country are struggling in this difficult economy.  What surprised me is that, in spite of these economic times, the Chrysler decided to stop charging admission, except for its visiting shows, about a year ago.  They wanted more people to be able to enjoy the art.  When I was a teacher in San Antonio, I took my students on field trips to the McNay.  There was no admission charge and Southwest Bell picked up the cost of the buses which made it possible to take these trips.  I can’t tell you how many students were in awe of the artwork because they had never been in an art museum before.  They couldn’t wait to tell their parents and bring their parents back to the museum so they could show them what had made them so excited.  I had grown up going to art museums in New York with my father, so it was incomprehensible to me that so many youngsters had never had the experience of visiting one.

How many of you have art museums in your communities or in communities near you that you’ve been meaning to get to but just haven’t made the time?  When was the last time you took your children?  If you don’t have any children or they are grown, how many of you know children in your neighborhood who’ve never been on the inside of one of these museums?  Maybe you could borrow a kid and introduce him or her to an amazing treasure.  If you haven’t been in awhile, maybe you need to put it on your list of important things to do.  Art is inspiring, invigorating, soothing, a salve for the soul, but for many it’s just an afterthought.  Do yourself a favor and move that thought to the forefront.  You’ll wonder why you waited so long!

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The Snowball Effect

Posted on April 27, 2012 by Coming East

Remember this old proverb?

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

Of course, this proverb is meant to show that small actions can result in big consequences.  Don’t I know it!

All I wanted was a new dishwasher.  Was that too much to ask?  We’ve been researching them for quite awhile and waiting for sales, and we finally purchased a Bosch with all the bells and whistles.  You can stand right next to it and hardly know it is on.  We bought it from a large chain store who uses subcontractors to install their appliances.  The installer came two weeks ago, installed my lovely new dishwasher, said, “You’re good to go,” and left.    That night we loaded it up and ran it.  We were able to watch a television show with it two feet away, and we didn’t even hear it.  So far so good.

The next day a friend came over, sat at my kitchen table, and remarked, “You have such beautiful floors.”  As she said this, I glanced down and saw a dark discoloration at the ends of several planks.  I had no idea what it was.  I tried to think if I had used any unusual cleaner last time I washed them, but I knew I hadn’t.  My husband came home a little while later and noticed the discoloration immediately.

“What’s this?”  he asked.  When I told him I had no idea, he lifted up the long gel mat that I keep along the edge of the sink and the dishwasher, and the discoloration was even worse.  

“Aaarrrggggghhhhh! The dishwasher!” we yelled in tandem.  The dishwasher had obviously leaked, but instead of flooding the top of the floor where we would have seen it and dealt with it immediately, the water went under the floor boards because the dishwasher sits on the concrete slab a little below the edge of the floor.  The damage even extended into our dining room.

The fiasco is the result of the installer connecting the wrong end of the drain hose to the dishwasher.  He did not read each end of the hose which clearly says, “Dishwasher end” and “Garbage disposal end.”  Since those ends are not quite the same size, the installer had to force the connection from the dishwasher into a hose that was too small, thereby compromising the integrity of the hose.

Rather than giving you every gory detailed of what transpired after that, we will fast-forward to what is happening now.  The floor repair man came yesterday, assessed the situation and gave us the bad news. Because the entire downstairs is hardwood bamboo, we can’t just refinish the kitchen floor since it flows seamlessly into the dining room and family room.  So the entire downstairs floors will have to be refinished.  That requires moving all the furniture out.  To move all the furniture out requires me to empty all my dishes and other items from all my drawers, my china cabinet, curio, etc.  I will have to box them up as there is nowhere to put them.  It will be like moving all over again.  The piano has to be moved which will result in it needing another tuning.  We will have to go out to eat for a week and a half as we will not have our kitchen.  I will be a prisoner upstairs for a week and a half because I do not like to leave the house to strangers as they do their work.

Yes, the installer’s insurance will cover the cost of refinishing the floors (and the bill is a doozy!), but lost time and inconvenience is never covered.  And all that had to be done for this to be avoided is for the installer to read what was written on the end of the hose.  I just wanted a new dishwasher.  Was that too much to ask?

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Police! Help!

Posted on April 26, 2012 by Coming East

This morning I read an article in the paper about a Richmond police initiative that is making people angry.  In an effort to help the good citizens of Richmond protect their property, the police are roaming neighborhoods between midnight and 4 am and peeking in  parked cars.  If they see valuables in plain sight, they are knocking on doors, waking owners, and admonishing them to keep their property out of sight.  This has been in response to a rash of car burglaries.

Can you believe that people would actually be angry with being awoken in the wee hours of the morning to be told they are careless?  Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?  I mean, I don’t think the police are going far enough, if you ask me.  If I had my way, I’d have the police be even more intrusive because I need all the help I can get.  These are some of the things I propose:

  • I would like the police to check and make sure I’ve put the garage door down when I leave the house.
  • If I give the police my key and my security code, can they come into my house and make sure I’ve turned the stove off?  Unplugged the coffee pot?  I would also give them permission to taste the stew bubbling away on my unattended stove and adjust the seasonings.  Might as well, if they are  in my kitchen anyway.
  • Police should patrol inside of grocery stores.  I see many women who leave their pocketbooks (purses to you younger women) in their grocery carts while they wander halfway down the isle to retrieve a box of Cheerios.  A lot of admonishing is obviously called for there.

I’m just wondering, though, as helpful as these things might be, if police might find better things to do with their time than to babysit careless people.  If people continue to leave valuables in plain sight, even though they’ve been warned over and over again that they are asking for trouble, then  getting burglarized should come as no surprise.

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