outside my window

I woke up yesterday morning to the most beautiful ice-land I have ever seen. I skated to work on an inch of ice, and all of the trees wore glistening, lovely, ice suits (some were not the better for it--several of our largest Pines on campus lost huge limbs under the weight of all that ice). I must admit that I see nothing in nature so beautiful as ice. It positively astounds me, with every new storm, every new winter.

Yesterday, February Second, is the only day that I can think of in the year that carries with it not one or two holidays, but three whole holidays. Besides the most American tradition of Groundhog's Day (the quirkiest by far, in my opinion), this day also marks the celebrations of the Christian Candlemas, the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple and the blessing of the candles, and it's Pagan and Neo-Pagan counterpart, Imbolc, the beginning of the lengthening of days. Such hope for spring is wrapped up in these traditions (even Groundhog's Day) that I cannot help but feel that, despite the ice and snow, those first snowdrops are only a couple of weeks away.

Here's the icy sunrise-y view out my window this morning:

I know that I am, indeed, awful at this whole diligence thing. I must make this resolution right now: Once a week, at least, I promise to post here, even if it's just a few words. I feel I am becoming careless.

This morning , I awoke to this splendor:




Unfortunately, the lovely snow affected a late opening on campus this morning, which means that my new philosophy class was cancelled; while this class already met once on Tuesday, today was the second portion about which I am rather curious--the class is an integrated Chinese philosophy/movement class, and we have yet to meet for the movement aspect.

As the daylight grows longer and longer each week, I find myself once again in a terrible poetry slump. It seems that every January it hits me like this--So beautiful, so inspiring, and yet I am without inspiration.

Off to conference now, but more in the next week, I PROMISE!

the signs are prodigious

Today is Miss Jamie's birthday, so let's all say together, Happy Birthday Jamie! Ahem.

Now that we've finished with that, I must apologize for being so long absent from this URL for so long. I shall simply skip the excuses and distract you with these lovely images of autumn here in Bronxville:


I think this little guy liked the sound of my camera shutter...I was lucky enough to get a nice half-hour break in the rain to obtain these! This week is probably to be the doomed last of these colours, but it is a very lively one at Sarah Lawrence--this weekend is Halloween, which may be the best loved and most fervently celebrated of all holidays here, as well as Fall Formal and parents' weekend (we all know that they assign this weekend as family weekend on purpose, in some vain attempt to cut down on partying). I will be enjoying myself on Halloween with my housemates here, but this Friday, I have more important plans than a school dance: the Mister and I have tickets to see the wonderful Cloud Cult live in Brooklyn. Their September album, Light Chasers, is one of my favourites of the year, and presented me with a much-needed burst of autumn optimism earlier in the semester.

I won't go too far into what about this album was so important for me, but I think it has to do with the end of a long spiritual search for the songwriter and the literal birth of new chance for he and his wife. His and the band's story can be found at length on Wikipedia, and it's compelling enough to warrant a read even if you aren't a fan. Something tells me that Light Chasers will be the last Cloud Cult album, maybe for a while, maybe forever, but I think it's a fitting end to a story that is both heartbreaking and deeply triumphant. I am looking forward to a good, hard, empathetic cry at this concert.

In other news, I have been holing myself up here, gearing up for the second half of this semester. I'm two-thirds of the way through Spenser's The Faerie Queene for conference work in Bill Shullenberger's class, and studying Symbolism at length for (get this) an eight-page paper written entirely in French! I must admit that this is a wholly masochistic mission on my part, and one that continually challenges me when I receive potions of it returned to me positively splattered in red pen. But I'm learning... slowly but surely.

I have also been cooking. Intensely. So much cooking. Some of my sweetheart's and my most successful experiments have been: sweet-potato-and-edamame pancakes with baked apples; acorn squash stuffed with grains, hazelnuts, and figs; eggplant, chard, tomato and rice casserole; butternut squash with butter and sugar (for desert!); leeks vinaigrette, which has quickly turned into "any steamed vegetable vinaigrette"; Perfect Miso Soup; and lots of homemade bread. Unfortunately, and this may be very cruel on my part, I haven't any recipes. The two of us have decided it's useless to write down recipes that we come up with--we never end up following them, and we often like to make things just once. But rest assure that they were all delicious, even if completely unreproducible.

I will be home for Thanksgiving weekend, which (hopefully) means that I will make something somewhat like these for my family and maybe have recipes! FOr now, though, I am off to read more George Herbert and teach my housemate Gabe to make bread... Pictures later, and certainly after this weekend!

Springtime and Such

Before I dive into the pictures I took yesterday of the springtime, I have to make the announcement that Jónsi of Iceland's famed musical act Sigur Rós has finally released his long-awaited solo album, Go. I listen to the stream now as I type, and I have to say I'm very happy with the album--he never fails to disappoint. My sweetheart and I have tickets already for his show in New York in May. You can find the free stream of the whole album here, on Jónsi's website.

Anyhow, while you're streaming this wonderful new album, feast your eyes on springtime at Sarah Lawrence. I feel that the enthusiasm of the first half of the album truly suits the joyousness of the new season:
Tulip trees outside the President's house...

I love how rusty they look when the petals get smooshed.

Spring painting at Westlands--all the white trim is getting a touch-up.

I ran into my literature professor, Bill Shullenberger, and his sidekick, Rufus, who were also out for an afternoon walk...
A dried blossom that somehow made it through the snow... hydrangea, possibly? Isn't is brilliantly preserved?

Pink buds... I wish desperately that I were more familiar with the trees of the East Coast but, alas, this one shall remain nameless for now.

And a lovely rusty gate I failed to notice earlier in the year. My darling will like this one, I do suppose--oh, the marvelous aesthetics of decay!

This weekend has much reading in the sunshine in store for me, I gather. I still press on through Ulysses, Omeros, two books on photographer Miroslav Tichý (whose first American exhibit at the International Center for Photography is a must-see for anyone in the New York area), The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and some various poetry, of course. Onward, troops, toward the end of the semester, and the summer holidays...

Hello Springtime, Hello Blog!

I know, it's been many a week since I've posted on this-here blog. In fact, since I last posted, spring has sprung here in New York:

I took this photo before my spring holiday in California, nearly two weeks ago now, and most of these lovely little rain-soaked snowdrops have gone hence, replaced now by sunny daffodils, asters, and the fleshy pink, fragrant blooms of the tulip trees. More pictures to follow in the next few days.

I now write this post from the comfort of my periwinkle-purple blanket, stretched out on the back lawn of Tweed, in my bathing suit and heart-shaped glasses, contentedly listening to Radio Dismuke--any of you who enjoy 1920's and '30's music should take advantage of this wonderful online radio--and wishing desperately that I had lemonade (or a gin fizz!). It's nearly miserably hot, but my fishy-white legs are admittedly enjoying the exposure to the elements. They've been cooped up in thick stockings far too long!

I have several pictures I wish to share from my trip home, namely this favourite recipe of ours--

Our modified Saumon en Papillote, Italian style:

This recipe is inspired by one from Jamie Oliver's kitchen, although for the life of me I can't think where we saw it originally. It's equally good for feeding one or ten--just wrap salmon fillets (individually or a big one like the one pictured) in aluminum foil and add a little olive oil, white wine, salt and pepper, and fresh chopped grape tomatoes, kalamata olives, capers, basil leaves, and a little dollop of butter. Wrap them up, stick them in the oven at 375-400 for twenty minutes or so, and the salmon creates its own little wine sauce. Super elegant, quick as all hell, an some of the most delicious fish you'll have had in a while. It also works well with other fish.

Also, whilst in California, I had the pleasure of an Early-Easter-Double-Birthday-57th-Wedding-Anniversary (whew!) bash at my Grandparents' house. All of my first and second cousins were there to celebrate with a huge meal, two cakes, and gifts for the birthday kids:
From left, these are my family: Sarah, Kyla (one birthday girl), Wendy, Max, Katie Rose (the other birthday girl), me, and Scotty. And here are our slightly less flattering sides:
I particularly like how droopy Max's moustache looks in this second photograph.

Relaxing on my Grandparents' back patio, several of us tried our hand at the skipping rope tricks we hadn't done since the grade school:
(Scotty getting some "mad air" while Kyla looks on)
(my brother Max, sans droopy moustache)
(me, attempting a "criss-cross, applesauce," taken by Scotty)

And now, the sun dips further and further behind the roofline of Tweed, and I have a few more rays of sunlight to take in... More photos of spring soon, I promise!

Snow Day

Today was the first "snow day" I have ever known. Classes were cancelled, half the campus was shut down, and everyone spent the day frolicking in the 7-8 inches we got over the course of the day.

For me, this was not only exciting because it was a snow day, but also, despite my desperate romance with cold weather, I've been--gasp--having dreams about summertime! This little stormy interlude was just what I needed to remind myself that, yes, bleakness is thrilling and, yes, interesting weather does exist somewhere; just not in California.

I will leave you for today with these photographic depictions of this winter day.

This was the view out of my window this morning:


Tweed House clearly loves the snow. Aside from M. Benjamin and Jamie in the foreground, check out the thick pile on top of the trash cans...


And on the pine trees...


Sarah Lawrence may be feminist, but do you think this is a little much?


The one and only football game I have ever witnessed here, and it was snowing, go figure.


(You can't really tell, but that dark blob is a tackle.)

Hope everyone else is staying warm and dry!

Dust

I woke up this morning to the most beautiful, peaceful snowfall I've ever seen.







(P.S. these are the adorable boots M. Benjamin gave me for our anniversary...)
There's something so centering and peace-making about a walk in the snow, as one of my favourite bloggers, Margie Oomen, is perfectly aware. Hopefully all of my readers back home in California will be able to experience this great peace second hand through these photographs...

I'm off to a conference with my professor and don, but expect a new piece on my poetry blog later on today, if all works out according to plan...