block island news

 

The boat is in the water, and Captain Hannah is at the helm. They are constrained by the tides—too high or too low and they can't get under the bridge that allows egress to the Great Salt Pond. But they are figuring it out.

  They also figured out how to put a big piece of driftwood (found and portaged by Erin and Flip) in Claudia's Surf City as a post in place of the two by fours that were there. Chris and Noah, Hannah's cousin, wrestled it into place.

 

Ta da! And, yes, Block Island is a whole family scene, with Hannah's father, two brothers, many cousins and aunts and uncles there. Lots of them were around for the big family swordfish cookout Johnny and Pam threw. 

 

fishing trip

 

The river was low at Rockbridge, but there was still enough water to catch a few trout. It is a trout farm and trout restaurant, after all.  So what we we had for lunch was, of course, trout! Blackened, broiled, with garlic and peppers, and battered and fried. I should have not have passed up the smoked, but once again, ordered too much even so. Looks like trout for lunch again.

   It was nice to junket around the countryside, sere though most of it was. And nice to see and hear running water.

   The restaurant carried out the outdoors theme.

Frank and Dianne had taken me there before. It wasn't that crowded, but if you want a job they have some openings. Here is a picture of Dianne trying to get out of the picture. If you want me to cut this frame, Dianne, let me know and I will, though I doubt it's going viral on my blog!

And here's a picture of some other lovers, canoodling outside.

 

 

the death of a tree

“You be careful now!”

    This is something people here in the Ozarks say instead of goodbye or see you later. I’ve never been very careful. When someone says that, I remember body surfing full-moon waves in Kauai while tripping on LSD, the drunken drives in the hills of Vermont, the thin cold air on Mt. Everest, the electric eels in Amazonia, the cocaine, the Camel straights, the dangerous place New York City was when I moved there years ago. I am also thinking of the emotional risks I have run, like having a child and falling in love.

    I had to take down a hundred-year-old maple the other day, and it made me very sad. I loved that tree, and I thought it would outlive me. I realized that my outsized grief was because these days friends are starting to fall like trees. It doesn’t seem to matter how careful or how careless they have been. And my landscape is more barren without them.

    “I’m scared shitless,” one of my best friends told me the other day. He has brain cancer and has to think about what they call end-of-life issues. “What should I do?”

     “Spend as much time with the people you love as you can. Hold their hands,” I told him. “It’s ok to cry. Put your financial affairs in order. And indulge yourself in small pleasures.”

     I don’t know whether this was good advice—I’m no death doula. I started thinking about that last bit. What would the indulgences be as physical abilities are eroded? Watching favorite movies, rereading books, listening to music, talking story, enjoying the sun on your skin. (I mean, at this point why worry about skin cancer?) Eating good food, drinking good booze, massages, strippers, patting your dog. Looking at your favorite tree. I hear psychedelics can be good for the dying, too. And, oh yeah, you could take up smoking again!

    Talk about risks: He’s survived the fall of Baghdad, the retaking of Kuwait, snipers in Bosnia, prison in the Dominican Republic, the Mob in New York City, tropical disease in Africa, a broken spine from a run-in with a tank. One of his bullet-riddled armored cars ended up in a museum. But after living through all those risks, it’s cancer that’s going to get him. In the pandemic years we have all been making risk assessments every day. But something is going to get every one of us. Life itself is a risk.

     So now my friend is fearfully awaiting the latest MRI results. He says he is on the verge of tears often. He can’t walk very well or get up the stairs to his shower. To add insult to injury, despite all the isolation and masking, Covid landed him in the hospital yet again. He and his family are investigating assisted living places. The one he’s seen so far, he says, is like a cross between a hospital and a Marriott. Which, given that he’s spent half of his life in hotels as a war correspondent, is not necessarily a bad thing. He would have a whole new audience for his war stories. He could have his dog there, too. His dog that has also lived past his sell-by date.

     Ordinarily, dogs die before people, and people die before trees. Life isn’t always so orderly. I made my tree’s three-foot trunk into two beautiful tables that stand in my yard near where the tree once did. One holds the grill and the other some elephant ears a friend gave me. The tree is having an afterlife. And as for the risk I took in loving it when it was dying, it was worth it.

     So don’t be too careful, now!

 

This photograph is by Chien-Chi Chang, taken of a friend at the country house of the man in question, with, Chien-Chi thinks, the dog of the man in question. It so perfectly hits the notes.

 

take me to the river

I moved here because of the people and the rivers. But I haven't been to a great swimming hole since I got here almost a month ago and went to Rocky Falls with Carly (above) and her son. Plus we've been having a drought. Most rivers are spring fed and have good deep pools here and there. Mostly there, like 45 minutes away (that's really not considered that much of a drive here). I have been unable to get company to go with, which seems important in the backside of beyond. So finally I texted a neighbor for permission to get into his river access. He's not here and said sure. 

   I'm actually surprised my 19-foot-deep well has any water in it, since the water comes from the same river. But so far so good.

The selfie is mostly to annoy Frank, who specifically said he didn't want to see me in a bathing suit. But the water was clear and delicious, if not much more than chest deep. And I thought of this Al Green song.

 

art world

I have mostly stopped buying art the way I used to when I was young and employed and in acquisition mode. So these days my main supplier is Bill Dugan, who sends me art out of the kindness of his heart. I apologize for these pictures, because my copying skills are not of the finest, but you can get the idea from this sunflower print. He also does mail art, like the following card.

This has been attributed to Willie Nelson. Wrongly, it turns out, because he used one line from the song on his 75th birthday. It seems that this is actually an old song from the Ozarks! 

   Dugan also, unsolicited, made me letterhead. I am treasuring the paper at the moment, because I don't want to waste it. I tend to do this with paper, especially special letterhead paper. BTW, he misspells things just to annoy the shit out of me. Thank you, Bill!

 

 

ratatouille casserole

It’s ratatouille season again!

 

I haul out whatever is in the fridge that I get from Mary's farm—yellow squash, zucchini, tomatoes, peppers, onions. Always garlic. If using eggplant (which is great!) I sweat it first. I cut in thick slices, salt it, and let it sweat to lose its bitterness. Takes about a half hour. I dice onions and peppers and garlic and saute just a bit in olive oil. I chunk everything else into same-sized chunks, including the eggplant once I’ve wiped off the salt with paper towels.

Make sure there’s a little oil at the bottom of the casserole dish (you can even use a bread pan, though glass is preferred.) Then layer in the veg, breadcrumbs and cheese. Use whatever kind of cheese you like. I typically use fresh mozzarella and parmesan. I top off with another layer of veg, mozzarella and dust with breadcrumbs and parmesan.  Bake for about 45 minutes at 350 until bubbling and tender to a fork.

 

You can make this on the stove top without the cheese and breadcrumbs. That is the French classic. And as leftovers you can add cheese and bake later if you like. It also makes a decent sandwich!

 

RIP, o tree

The Tree is dead. Long live the Tree! Here is the promised happy ending: Cat and I decided to make the tree stump into outdoor furniture. 

 

And thus the Tree has a second life at the Goose. Not only that, but there is a pile of wood in the corner of the yard that will help keep Virginia's wood stove stoked this winter. This makes me feel better.

 

 

the sad saga

Cat in the catbird seat. He takes the little, lower branches off first, so that the others don't get caught in them on the way down.

 

Don't say you weren't warned! There's a happy ending, but you have to wait for it.

invasive species

 

The sun set on my Norway maple. It's considered a junk tree, but it stood there for probably a hundred years, and its roots went deep. I loved it. It gave me shade on the deck. The hummingbirds made nests there. But it was invading my roof, and dying. One side was gone, and my friend Carly, who stays here at the Goose sometimes,  kept being afraid it would fall over. 

 

I spent one last day on my shady porch with my tree before Cat came over. He was nicknamed Cat because that's what it said on his Caterpillar hat when he was a teen. He liked it better than Gayle, anyway. We had originally planned  to trim the tree so it wouldn't fall on the Goose, but he said it was dying and if we didn't take it down this year, it would have to go next year. So.

 

Let me just add, though my sister, The President of the Garden Club, strenuously disagrees, as do my "friends" in the Facebook Plant Identification and Discussion Group, that without invasive species in some of my places I would not have foliage at all. That goes for privet, which hides me from my neighbors in the Ozarks and this beautiful tree without which I feel denuded, but also in Block Island. There privet (again) and Russian Olive and Rose of Sharon conceal me. While poison ivy is not considered invasive!

  Those of you who do not like process shots or watching people work may want to skip the next post!

 

meanwhile in bi

 

It's been largely about The Boat. "Gotta work on the boat," Hannah's been saying since Memorial Day. Boat, originally belonging to Hannah's grandpa, needed a lot of work. Fiberglassing, painting, new seats, motor, trim etc. Then there was Fourth of July, which Milla and Isaac and Hannah participated in as part of the Pride float.

Then back to the boat.

And finally, the launch! Fkip and Chris hauled it into the water in the back yard.

 

And then it was waded over to Douglas's dock down the pond. 

 

Yet to come: the first trip.

woman of the hour

Here is photographer Donna Ferrato, woman of steel, in front of her New York City public sculpture Wall of Silence, And appropriately today a full page review of her New York gallery show appears in the New York Times. It turns out it was written by a former colleague of mine from Time Inc. Read it here. 

     The unveiling of the sculpture took place in front of the halls of justice —and injustice, Donna says—just two days after her gallery show, timed to protest the expected overturning of Roe v Wade. The show is based on photographs and collages from her book Holy, for which I wrote the intro.

   

Holding court.

Joined by women who were jailed for defending themselves from violent partners, Donna dances around her sculpture of a jailhouse door.

 

 

more doors

Well. Got the doors installed in Block Island. Needed to get this one at the Goose replaced. The doors downstairs had to be replaced after the flood. The one upstairs was pretty well falling apart, and wasps were squeezing through the cracks. That was  before the contractor kicked that bottom pane out trying to see if he could get the door to shut. It's been duct taped (of course, this being the Ozarks) since. But I ordered a door while in NYC and yesterday Kyle and Chuck came to install it. 

 

 

Oh, and Chris fixed another door in Block Island. So that leaves only 10 exterior doors there that may need to be replaced. If there's a problem with the door into the hallway in New York, it won't be my problem, thank fortune. You know the saying, when one door closes, another one goes on the fritz. 

  And I have a lot of catchup to do, blogwise. There was Donna's show, the visitors from Hawaii, the Fourth celebrations, in BI and right here in Thomasville, Carly's visit to Rocky Falls, and your basic scenery. There is a lot of that here. Also heat. We're a hundredish all week.