
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
I've got mail
Rich pickin's at the Canal Street post office today. It seems they have recreated a mini Prince Street Station within its huge, marbeled halls. And I was able to use my key to PO Box 19...to open PO Box 19...at Canal Street. They actually took out all the old boxes from the old station and built new walls to put them in.
I wasn't expecting anything exciting. The usual credit card offers, catalogues, blablabla.
But what was insssside?
Treasure!
First, the next issue of Go! Always a good thing. On the editorial page a picture of my cousin, who wrote the editorial, as a baby in her mother's arms. My mothers' sister.
Then, a small, stiff envelope from the US Government: I didn't even open it. I knew what was inside. A large envelope from them, too. That I opened...my original certificate of citizenship returned (I had to send it in to get what was in the other envelope, and I was very nervous about it after all the snarl-ups I've experienced in this pro-trac-ted process). It was in one piece.
Then, a letter from the IRS. Uh-oh. Oh boy. I opened it at once. Never delay bad news. Inside it was a letter saying that...they were paying me back! A lot! Like enough to more than justify what I spent today having my Heywood Wakefield chairs reupholstered. And then some.
Jeepers. I opened the little stiff envelope at home. The emotion that was absent at the swearing-in arrived when the little blue book was in my hand. My passport.
I wasn't expecting anything exciting. The usual credit card offers, catalogues, blablabla.
But what was insssside?
Treasure!
First, the next issue of Go! Always a good thing. On the editorial page a picture of my cousin, who wrote the editorial, as a baby in her mother's arms. My mothers' sister.
Then, a small, stiff envelope from the US Government: I didn't even open it. I knew what was inside. A large envelope from them, too. That I opened...my original certificate of citizenship returned (I had to send it in to get what was in the other envelope, and I was very nervous about it after all the snarl-ups I've experienced in this pro-trac-ted process). It was in one piece.
Then, a letter from the IRS. Uh-oh. Oh boy. I opened it at once. Never delay bad news. Inside it was a letter saying that...they were paying me back! A lot! Like enough to more than justify what I spent today having my Heywood Wakefield chairs reupholstered. And then some.

Bubbly, anyone?
Silk Road

Summer rain

Labels:
New York Summer
Monday, June 29, 2009
Summer supper with herbs

I had bought a huge tomato. And I was thinking of how there is often a platter of them on the bar at Fiorello (one of the best bars to sit at in the city, drooling over all the antipasti on display): fat slices, lightly herbed.
Labels:
66 Square Feet: the terrace,
Meals for me
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Green space

The Russians are Olga and Elena, and their RTVi crew, making an episode or maybe episodes about New York roof gardens. They found 66 Square Feet and we met on Friday to talk about possibilities. I did my best not to fall into my Russian accent, assumed occasionally to make Vince weak at the knees. I think the Russians will be a great asset for the Communist Party, tentatively planned for later this year, to celebrate citizenship and birthdays and husbands and blogging friends. Comrade.
Anyway, there will be an interview in the 66 square feet, as well as a crew shadowing visits to some roof gardens already in existence, and some in the making.
Sprucing up was needed. The climbing Iceberg rose is looking sad, post severe blackspot, and I know it wants to go into some real, deep soil. When we move later this year, will it come with us? All depends on what we find to rent. And that is a mission, Finding the Right Place. It must have outdoor space, and I would love a roof, but we will have to see what is available.
It will be hard, and sad to leave this little terrace and sunny apartment, but the noisy neighbours who crash around in the wee hours of the morning are making it a lot easier to get ready to leave.
It will be exciting looking at neighbourhoods together. The flavors of each are unique and sometimes subtly different. One has things to consider such as aspect, light, garden space, space- for-friends-to-eat-together (priority), view, subway, sunsets, shops...Atlantic Avenue has spoiled me completely. How do I leave Sahadi's??? Maybe I won' t need to.
We shall see.
Labels:
66 Square Feet: the terrace,
Brooklyn,
Main Man
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Book Triage

Evidence of mass dog-earing,too.
It is a very interesting book. It's going to be a long and dusty ride.
Labels:
Domestica
Friday, June 26, 2009
Terrace growings on



Then again, if we applied the same standards to exotic and alien and non-native humans as we do to plants, we'd all have to go back home.
Wherever that is. And whenever that is. When does who you are start? Through how many generations of bloodstreams does your DNA have to course to turn indigenous? If you are a plant, never.
If you are a human that is hard.
Imagine. North America draining swiftly and returning to Mexicans and First Nations. And they in turn back-paddling across the Beiring Straits? Beige South Africans schlepping back to Germany, France, England, Holland, to shiver under unfamiliar skies. South America seeing mass exodus. Spain popping at the seams. Australia returning to didgeridoo-accompanied silence. All going back to the native ranges.
To bloom where we belong.
To bloom where we belong.
In the end we'd all land up where I started.
In Africa.
In Africa.
East Houston Street

The park I must still design for the lot across the road on 2nd Avenue's corner has been put on the back burner until my garden design plate has been cleared a little. Hopefully I will be able to dedicate some weeks in late July or August to its creation on paper, and we intend to plant it come September.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Three Tribeca rooftop gardens

This kind of situation is known in the trade as a Shade Pit.
My philosophy is to embrace the shade...we will make it work for us! Woodland serenity now.

Below, a few streets away, is one of our gardens on a high corner, with views of the Hudson.
Labels:
Garden Design,
New York,
Roof gardens
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)