Veg Therapy and How to Try to Keep Semi-Sane

In these unsettling and most peculiar times I look for diversions

IMG_8160.jpglike contemplating a lovely dessert with blackberries and figs

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or maybe quinces – but am not certain what I would do with the quinces. I like the look and the name but not the taste really.

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Apples are easy but the Winesaps won’t be here until next week.

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Teeny, tiny pears all sheeny with wetness.

IMG_8161.jpgThen I’m delighted by pinkness and buy dahlias which will only last three days – but lots of nice things last even less time than that.

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Oh my! what a dazzle for the eye!

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The mescalun looks as if it has been arranged – but it hasn’t.

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Romanesco is worth mediating on  – all Fibonacci and architectural – look at the little group of singers at the top in their soft green dresses under the coral overhang – or make up another story entirely. Or, according to Mee (the friend who did the cookbook) bake it inside a Godzilla cake and astound the kiddies.

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An orange nose has poked itself into the ghost gourds.

IMG_8180.jpgThis decorative gourd is all warty and weird – maybe it’s enchanted. In the end I brought the dahlias home and took their photo on the dining table.

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And that was my morning avoiding watching the news or doing any writing or anything remotely useful. And so we go on!

October

October is one of my favorite months – the beginning of the turning of the year and a little bit decaying and mystical…

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Nothing like an old baking sheet background for gloomy…

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This is a sunflower squash

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posing as a space alien.

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These are some pears

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and more pears

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and a pomegranate from a street cart and flowers from Bobby’s garden.

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Some meadow flowers hanging on to summer at the green market

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so joyful.

5135D877-5FF6-473E-A165-D58EC057EBBAbut pumpkin season is upon us

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and an eggplant with some sort of message –

when we get to the beach

IMG_8117.jpgI find a poor fishy who is unlikely to send any more messages…

 

 

Almost Autumn

I managed to get separated from my blog – or the log in to the same…

Anyway, my friend Gracie moved to Long Beach where people were training as life guards.

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The summer went well…

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Vinny the caterpillar and his chums ate a great deal of dill…

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which then formed seeds and I got a second crop.

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The wonderful butterfly flower self seeded itself on the roof

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add basil and mint to the old Moroccan jug.

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Hydrangeas continued to enchant

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and I dried some delphinium flowers.

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We managed to get to Robert Moses three times

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and the grandchildren continued to flourish.

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Robert suggested I do a needlepoint loosely based on an old Italian plate. Lesson learned: do not attempt anything with lots and lots of circles in it.

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A peach photographed on a baking tray

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Some extra lovely dahlias Margaret gave me.

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A photo from yesterday – photographed on a cookie sheet. The chewed leaf makes it look as if it ought to be an allegory of some sort – oddly medieval.

A Surreal Week

The light has been extraordinarily clear and bright this week.

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A nice leaf on the windowsill.

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Same leaf on the windowsill with the light reflected off a new tall building blazes in from the north in the late afternoons.

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Our dim little counter gets lit up – had I known the light would fall there I would have arranged a better still life.. This is sort of brownish in honor of the meatloaf that is about to get made…

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Light on the High Line on election afternoon when I was beginning to feel wobbly.

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Last licks of flowers from my son’s garden the day after…

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Apprentice flower arranger.

So the week continued with lots and lots of walks and sights seen.

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A house to desire in Greenwich village

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and leaves in the gutter

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not to mention the hats on 5th Avenue

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and heaven in the New York Public Library…

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and an intimation of mortality.

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But the light! – and a man leaving.

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All this emotion and seeing things required a little respite in the form of Tea & Sympathy where we ate

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very stodgy puddings and drank tea.

img_4592On the way home I passed the Chelsea Hotel which is undergoing an extensive and much needed renovation – for good or ill. Anyway lots and lots of changes. I’d better get used to it.

Green Thoughts

What would I do without the green market to take photos of?

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White and red currents with a suitably sere leaf.

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Squash flowers to be lightly battered ( but not by me!)

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A complete meadow of black-eyes Susans and daisies and so forth.

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Shasta daisies…

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And then the edible flowers – photographed in their plastic containers which render them misty and mysterious. As a child I ate nasturtiums and honey suckle and maybe chomped on clover.

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But the current fashion for eating snapdragons and chive flowers etc etc is more to do with looks than taste, I think. Others may disagree.

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But they do look stunning.

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As regards my own humble horticultural efforts on the roof: this year I’m attempting an egg plant (seen here). I have a great deal too much mint and a lot of sage that looks charming but I never eat. There is kale but I never eat that either.

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And here is a tiny posy on my table.

Reading notes:

Green Thoughts by Eleanor Perenyi

Landscape and Memory by the brilliant Simon Sharma who grew up in Essex like me.

And a Famous Five  adventure by the much maligned Enid Blyton – just to see how she moves plot and conflict – and gosh, was she good at it.

 

Writing about the Past and Mythical Gardens

 

The idea  of a lost Eden is a commonplace in myth and literature – think Le Grand Meaulness. How compelling is the idea of a perfect place to be discovered or rediscovered – and to be expelled from. Masaccio’s painting in the Brancacci chapel captures the idea only too well. Adam and Eve look spectacularly miserable. Not one blade of grass to be seen!

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And of course the place they were expelled from was a garden! Another mythical  – but very real – place was The Secret Garden where Frances Hodgson Burnett managed to weave every single heart-tugging  strand together: the grumpy child, the bereft husband, the huge old manor house,the mysterious cries in the night, the local boy in touch with nature – all heading towards healing. Needless to say, like a very large number of other girls, I was madly in love with Dickon. How could I not be?

When I was a child – my very own lost Eden – I lived in a place very rich in history. I grew up in what had once been a gamekeeper’s cottage on a huge estate in Essex. The Petre family, hugely wealthy in the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries – despite remaining Roman Catholic – had built Thorndon Hall, a magnificent pile designed by Thomas Paine. Building began 1764.

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By the 1950s, after several disastrous fires, the house had been abandoned and only the shell remained in various states of decrepitude. As children we were warned never to go in it. So, needless to say, we went into all the bits of it that we were able to.

In the woods there were reputed to be mysterious trees rarely seen in England and planted by one of the lords who was a ‘famous botanist’. Then there  was the myth of the First Thorndon Hall which had entirely vanished and had been some mile and a half to the south. All this was rather hazy and ill-defined, and though we did a lot of exploring – as one did before the internet and the constant monitoring of children’s whereabouts  -we never did find the old hall.

So, many years later, researching a story for children, I came upon a most fascinating person, Robert the 8th Lord Petre, who died shortly after his 29th birthday, leaving his heir a baby only three months old.

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Robert’s acheivements were remarkable. Between 1740 and 1742, some 60,000 trees of at least 50 different species were planted at Thorndon Hall. His hothouse – here referred to as a ‘stove’ was reputed to be the largest hothouse in the world, was fully 30 feet (9.1 m) high and contained trees and shrubs 10 to 25 feet (7.6 m) tall including specimens of guavapapawplantainhibiscusHernandia (Jack-in-a-Box), ceroid cactiSago Palmannatto (a red berry used for edible dye) and bamboo cane. The walls were hung with trellises covered with passion flowers, a wide variety of clematis and creeping cereus. Robert was particularly fond of the white lilac and, on one occasion, culled sufficient seed to raise in his nursery 5,000 new plants. Unfortunately, the principles of plant genetics and cross-pollination were then little understood; all but twenty of them bore purple blossom. Between 1740 and 1742, some 60,000 trees of at least 50 different species were planted at Thorndon Hall.

Twenty years after Robert’s death all remained was a scene of desolation: the house was falling down having been partially burned by a fire caused by lightning in 1757, the nurseries were overgrown and the stoves empty, apart from two date palms, a cactus and a few sickly shrubs. Even the menagerie had vanished.

Robert’s son, who had not known his father, had the new grandiose Thorndon Hall built and the old one was almost entirely obliterated and forgotten. Only two images of the Elizabeth building exist.

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I cannot discover a single image of Robert himself who after his death was described thus: “He was a fine, tall, comely man. Handsome, had the presence of a Prince, but so happily mixt that Love and Au was begat at the same time. The endowments of his mind are not to be described. Few excelled him in the liberal arts and sciences – a great Mechanic as well as a Mathematician, ready at figures and calculations, a fine taste for architecture, and drew and designed well himself” – a great Ardour for every Branch of Botanic Science, – whoever sees his vast Plantations and his Catalogue will not doubt it. In his Religious way an Example of great Piety, Charity and Chastity. Strict in his Morals, of great Temperance and Sobriety, no Loose Word, no Double entendre ever dropt from his lips”.

And now to write my story about how 20th century children rediscover this lost earthly paradise.

I wonder what passion drove Robert to create this fleeting marvel and why it was so utterly forgotten?

February

Some various musing on a rather under appreciated month.

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This discarded looking glass just by PS 11 captured such a sharp image of the rather ugly buildings opposite. Blue plastic trash bags manage to look pretty in bright sunlight,

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This building in the east 60’s has maybe been on fire – or grown mold or been abandoned – or maybe all three. Deniz says it looks like buildings in Istanbul. The blackness is just like the abandoned Portuguese Consulate building in Essouira. Like almost everyone on the planet, I like mysterious buildings.

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The reason for this picture is the wonderful writing on the check. I did not set anything up as a still life. This is just what remained after I had eaten my pancakes and bacon and drunk my tea.

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Yesterday I walked home down the High Line and there was almost no one about – well of course there was someone taking photos who had color coordinated his jacket to look brownish like the buildings.

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See! No one at all!

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But some witch hazel with waving fronds. When I was a child some mothers put witch hazel on bruises. Not sure if it has any effect – maybe magic like Bandaids on invisible scratches.

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Well, one person in the distance…

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A full moon to dream on

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and a plastic castle to play with.