step outside. . .

We have had a stretch of the most wonderful weather. If anyone knows of a hurricane headed for me (other than the one gathering in Congress), leave me in splendid oblivion.


the cottage next door

I heard a disturbing moniker for the old Italian residents of Carroll Gardens in Brooklyn: Leftovers.
    Clearly this term is used by the trendy, young, rich folk who have moved into the area. (I won't go into what we call them. Let's just say that their strollers are a danger to society.) Yes, we, because I seem to be a Leftover everywhere I live. Well, not quite everywhere—in the Ozarks I'm a rich, young interloper myself.
    But my building in New York is being populated by by people who throw out Noguchi coffee tables and have help and cars with drivers. (Yes, I was once one of these people.) The real estate agents showing the pricey redone apartments ($5000/month for mine) frown on the wheelchair users and camo shorts wearers carrying laundry in the elevator. It doesn't look good. They are hoping we  die soon (and some of us have).
     And then there's Block Island, where, again, we were once the "new" summer people and now we are the Leftovers who show up scavenging the year end free buffets and fussing about prices on island, whereas the new people are building mansions and putting in pools and AC. The classic funky island cottage has now been supplanted. I saw that writing on the wall when I built Hannah's, which is a notch less rustic than Claudia's. If you can't beat 'em, raise your prices.


was in truck/now on porch

That's the new sofa for CSC in the box. Wrong porch—but close enough.


wtf in the truck

Spoiler alert: Paper towels! Also 3 bananas. But there are 6 exciting and seasonal other fruits. And uncountable other seasonal fruits! What are they? And how about veg? Take a guess. There is hardware too, as I'm sure you know, and, and. . .
Step right up ladies and gents! Take a gander and take a guess. No winners, no losers, more or less. It's playing the game that counts.
And PS your blogger needs some comeback every once in a while to keep at it.


pit stop

A quick stop in Woonsocket to celebrate some people's seventh anniversary, and today, off to Block Island bearing half of Ikea. What's in the truck, indeed!


goodbye to all this

Goodbye New York. Goodbye friends.
Goodbye conversation that never ends.
Goodbye apartment. Goodbye bed.
I'm off to another place to lay my head.



Ok, I know it's not roundup day (Monday), but here is the latest news anyway.
Camilla (above) is still three. Isaac is one month old today and still unable to sleep without being trotted around—not on ponyback.
A friend's daughter has posted about Ozark must sees.
A young relation has posted a trailer for her doc Birdmen.
National Geographic has a new site dedicated to some of our favorite photogs.
Yesterday I observed Talk Like a Pirate Day but didn't see the full moon. 
Also iOS7. Arrrgh!
And by the time you read my next post, I will be in transit again. I must [go] down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky. . .



It's green peanut season. And that means it's dragon fruit season too, and time to go to Chinatown for exotic foods—congee and roast duck and dragon eyes—before heading to the ocean in another world.


new life

"It's in the DNA," says Chris. He opens the door of a property they saw, bid on, landed and had just signed a purchase and sale agreement for. All within a couple days. When the Donalds move, they move fast. The landholders will retain their rental property in Woonsocket—renting rather more of it than before—their land in Foster with architectural drawings for the woodland home, and move to the East Side of Providence in a camera-ready house in a walkable neighborhood.


birthday girl

Surrounded by some 50 friends and relations, Camilla Imogen celebrated her third birthday with balloons, bunnies, a pony and, as requested, purple butterfly cakes.


city squall

before the lightening

during lightening  
Today is Camilla's birthday! En route there to celebrate. Party pix tomorrow. Meanwhile, the storm before the calm.



Despite many complaints that I don't travel, I have been to Brooklyn. See?


where were you?

 Lina decided not to fly back to Rio today, 9/11. Just as well, since she still has a lot of shopping and packing to do. I told her she could not leave "just one  shootcase" at my house for another year and a half.
  On that day I was painting on the beach with  Kate Knapp and her class. Ed called me from Fox News to tell me what had happened. I didn't believe him at first. And then everybody in the painting class borrowed my phone (was it only a dozen years ago when everyone didn't have a cell phone?) to call their near and dear in the city. You should have heard my answering machine (yes, we had those!) when I got home. Wish I'd  saved the tape.
Where were you?


all over but the shouting

Ixnay on einer-way.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone


not keeping up with the joneses

photograph by Catherine Scarlett Lauren Durett Andrews Jackson
Ahem. The house next door proceeds apace. Looming rather? Alas, my poor viewshed! Actually, it's fine from Hannah's Hideaway. Sort of hovers over the front porch at Claudia's Surf City. It does give certain people more confidence that The Big One isn't coming to wipe us off the map if aspirational Block Islanders are willing to build a mansion on the beach. And what will it do to my property values?


on a clear day

New Jersey looks like heaven on a day like this. It's ten degrees cooler in New York than it is in Block Island, but I'm sure even there it's clear the seasons are changing. The off season people move in today. Prices go down and we supply linens. Doorknobs are falling off and things are getting generally shabby—it's off season for a reason. But it's this time of year I like best in Block Island.  No traffic, no people, just the blue fall sea. Unless, of course, there's a hurricane.


news from all over

My friend Bill (left) initiates a pal into the red sock society. Lately, the purchase of such socks has become an obsession—an affordable one as collections go.
    This morning on NPR,writer Dan Woodrell (Winter's Bone) put our Missouri town on the map. You can listen or read about his latest oeuvre here.
     In other Ozark news, my crepe myrtle finally bloomed and, Bear having quit, the kid next door is mowing the lawn.
     More news:
   The Block Island Times printed Isaac Bright's birth announcement, penned by Douglas. 
    An old friend, Hollywood screenwriter and director of horror movies Wesley Strick, put up a trailer for his latest.
    Another friend, photographer Lynn Johnson, narrates a short doc about one woman's work in Kenya.
     There's Chien-Chi Chang's multi media soundscape  on You Tube.
     And Wear Your Music is selling a peace bracelet that likely won't sell in Syria. All we are saying. . .
Oh, and Happy New Year! It means I don't have to move my truck 'til Tuesday!


tomato jones

On my endless quest for heirloom tomatoes (which apparently runs in the family, see my daughter's tomatoes as crack entry), I headed for Phoenix Rising horse farm. It's just a klick from Woonsocket, RI, but definitely another world. Dan showed me the special beans from France he grows for one chef's cassoulet, the zucchini for squash blossoms, the fantastic lime basil and, of course, the tomatoes. They grow mostly for restaurants, so much of the produce is exotica for this area. The plants were triple the usual size, mostly because of horse manure. They have a lot.
    "It must take many workers to keep this garden," I said.
    "We have a lot, and they all live here," said Dan.
    "What is this, some kind of hippie commune?"
    "More like child labor," said Dan. "If you can believe it, I have one high school student who loves picking tomatoes."
     Doing my due diligence, I found the place on line, and discovered that it's a major horse boarding/training/showing scene, with lots of people living and working on site as they all do various horsey things. (Dianne? Maybe you have some gaited horses at Crow's Nest they'd be interested in?)
     Me, I only  care about vegetables. And now I'm on the mailing list!

PS Two dollars a pound. Eat your heart out, New Yorkers! About six bucks here!


late bloomer

Every spring, with hope in our hearts, we plant a few flowers and vegetables in Block Island and in Missouri, prune and drown the plants on the windowsill in New York—and hope for the best. Typically, in the fall, we return to find nary a trace of our spring plantings. This year, however, one of the sunflowers given to us by by Ms Oceanluna appears to have thrived at Claudia's Surf City so successfully that Ana had to prop it up with her old broom. She sent us this picture, which we're glad to have, for it will be a month til we're back on the Island, and it's proof that something grew.