Almost.

Then all that changed–abruptly and without warning.

Of course, we miss him, but it’s more:  losing a beloved pet, unexpectedly, without a chance to say goodbye, is awful.  Just awful.  Just as losing a friend or a loved one suddenly packs an extra wallop, this kitty’s passing both shocked and devastated us.

I found these marvelous lines from the poem, The Death Of A Cat, written by the mid 20th century poet, Louis MacNeice (1907-1963), that express much better than I can some of my thoughts and feelings.  I know all cat lovers can relate to the pain, dismay, and bewildered sense of loss that  runs through these lines.

For he was our puck, our miniature lar...

For he was our puck, our miniature lar, he fluttered

Our dovecot of visiting cards, he flicked them askew.

The joker among them who made a full house.  As you said,

He was a fine cat.  Though how strange to have, as you said later,

Such a personal sense of loss.  And looking aside

You said, but unconvincingly:  What does it matter?

To begin, he was a beautiful object...

To begin, he was a beautiful object:

Bluecrisp fur with a white collar,

Paws of white velvet, springs of steel,

A Pharaoh’s profile, a Krishna’s grace,

Tail like a questionmark at a masthead

And eyes dug out of a mine, not the dark

Clouded tarns of a dog’s, but cat’s eyes–

Light in rock crystal, light distilled

Before his time and ours, before cats were tame.

To continue, he was alive and young...

To continue, he was alive and young,

A dancer, incurably male, a clown,

With his gags, his mudras, his entrechats,

His triple bends and his double takes,

Firm as a Rameses in African wonderstone,

Fluid as Krishna chasing the milkmaids,

Who hid under carpets and nibbled at olives,

Attacker of ankles, nonesuch of nonsense, 

Indolent, impudent, cat catalytic.

...if not a person, more than a cipher...

To continue further:  if not a person

More than a cipher, if not affectionate

More than indifferent, if not volitive

More than automaton, if not self-conscious 

More than mere conscious, if not useful

More than a parasite, if allegorical

More than heraldic, if man-conditioned

More than a gadget, if perhaps a symbol

More than a symbol, if somewhat a proxy

More than a stand-in—-was what he was!

A self-contained life, was what he must be

And is not now:  more than an object.

...Spreadeagled on coverlets---Those are the coverlets...

And is not now.  Spreadeagled on coverlets—

Those are the coverlets, bouncing on chairbacks—

These are the chairs, pirouetting and sidestepping, 

Feinting and jabbing, breaking a picture frame—

Here is the picture, tartar and sybarite,

One minute quicksilver, next minute butterballs,

Precise as a fencer, lax as an odalisque,

And in his eyes the light from the mines

One minute flickering, steady the next,

Lulled to a glow or blown to a blaze,

But always the light that was locked in stone

Before his time and ours; at best semi-precious

All stones of that kind yet, if not precious, 

Are more than stones, beautiful objects

But more than objects.  While there is light in them.

Precise as a fencer, lax as an odalisque...

Rest in peace, sweetness.

How could I forget…

Tai chi 'master' at Emeryville marina.

Form! Style! Grace!

Mas macho!

Tai chi woman--moi.

Wind in my sails...

Wonderful winery in Sonoma; delicious wines, fun and friendly servers, pretty grounds (and my namesake!).

And that's the way it is now...Schiller, Goethe play second-fiddle to L's text message. Museum campus in Golden Gate Park.

Next?  Who knows!

We always allow time in San Francisco to walk many of its blocks. There is no better way to see this city, and no way more rich in impressions and more fun, not to mention better for building muscle! Typically, we start-doesn't everyone?-in Union Square and, after stopping in glittering Gumps, proceed up Grant into Chinatown. Chinatown this year was especially fun as two of my traveling companions insisted on entering each of the most mysterious-looking doorways we passed, and there are many.

Sun Yat-sen, father of the Chinese republic and its first president, champion of democracy, sculpted by Beniamino Bufano on a rose granite pedestal in St. Mary's Square. The streets of Chinatown are typically teeming; tourists, Chinese residents, and San Francisco locals alike flock to the area. If you want a break from the din, turn off Grant Street at California to find this quiet retreat directly to your east. Pigeons, grandparents with toddling grandkids, and young skateboarders will join you.

Old St Mary's Cathedral, Grant at California, kitty-corner to St Mary's Square. First cathedral built in California. Cornerstone laid in 1853, much of its stone quarried in China and transported in sailing ships around Cape Horn. Greatly damaged in the massive earthquake and fires of 1906. When we visited, a wedding was taking place inside; obviously, it's still an active congregation.

Red on red in a neighborhood, nation, and culture where red ("good fortune and joy") is revered. These ornate columns stand outside the Bank of America building on Grant Street.

Street scene looking north along Grant Street.

Loved the banners and red lanterns in front of Peking Bazaar! "Serve yourself and save!" A motto for all!

View south and east from one of the many stunning lookouts outside Coit Tower, the Bay Bridge behind two climbers. After leaving Chinatown (and the perennially hip North Beach neighborhood, which included, of course, a stop at City Lights Books, as well as a quick refueling with a bite of gelato, purchased from a cranky server in an "Italian" cafe), we tackled the hill and many steps leading up to the tower. Our effort was well-rewarded; the tower, a gift to the city in the early 1900's from wealthy San Franciscan, Lillie Coit, herself a volunteer firefighter, provides cooling breezes, spectacular views, and fascinating murals within.

J in front of one of the murals inside Coit Tower. About 25 California artists were commissioned, using New Deal Public Works of Arts funds, to paint the interior of Coit Tower in the 1930's. This particular mural, "Library" by artist Bernard Zakheim, is filled with fascinating leftist-leaning imagery. Like many New Deal murals, others in the tower also contain progressive images, but this scene contains an unusually rich array of ideological detail.

Take a close look at this. This is the intersection of Filbert and Leavenworth, about a block or so south of beautiful, but notorious, Lombard Street, one block east of Hyde, very close to the tippy-top of Russian Hill. Don't know how a city engineer, architect, or geologist would look at this, but I get dizzy viewing it. It's hard to imagine a grade more steep in an urban environment; it's so steep that the concrete, asphalt, and weight of the apartments above appear to be sinking into the street! Even the intersection itself is sloping into the apartments!

We made it! This is the top of Filbert, just east of its intersection with Hyde Street. Coit Tower is in the distance, as is the bay, Berkeley, and the East Bay. I thought I'd climbed about all there was to climb in SF, but I hadn't done this block of Filbert, and it is demanding! We saw no one else one doing it, but for one couple who appeared to be tourists, and a lone woman tottering on her way down. Evidently, the locals are smart enough to avoid this workout. After this, we wandered over to Lombard's deservedly famous twists and turns, worked our way down Hyde, searched for our favorite hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant (closed for remodeling), consumed a delicious Thai dinner, and worked it off hiking all the way back to our parking lot south of Market. Loved every minute, and looking forward to returning.

Plant lovers, all these shots were taken in either the University of California at Berkeley Botanical Garden or in Tilden Regional Park’s Botanical Garden in the East Bay.  I’ve tried to identify, to some specificity, the plants correctly. Please correct me if you find an error.  There was a lot to look at!

This first series is from the Botanical Garden located in Tilden Regional Park, a 2,079 acre preserve east of Berkeley, California.  The ten acre botanic garden showcases native plants of California, and dates to 1940.  It’s easy to find (Tilden Park is huge), a lovely, quiet, green retreat, well worth visiting.

One of the many Lupines native to CA. Love the rich purple and beautiful form!

Simply a succulent, and there are many.

Sunny yellow variety of the iconic California Poppy.

River bank Iris, native to CA. Gorgeous!

Monster Skunk Cabbage found in northern Californian forests. Like our variety found in the Midwest, emits an odor attractive to pollinators when in blossom. Our type also releases sufficient heat to melt surrounding snow cover when first emerging in late winter/early spring!

Native Rhododendron, one of apparently 28,000 cultivars in the US, flanking forest trees and ferns.

View across the grounds.

View up the ridge into surrounding Tilden Park.

The following shots were taken from the University’s Botanical Garden in Berkeley.  This is a fascinating garden.  It consists of a diverse and varied array of plants from far-flung Mediterranean climates around the globe.  One wanders from California’s deserts to South Africa to Asia to Australia, and so on.  Very rich collection!  Unfortunately I have only a handful of photos from this visit to share.

One of two varieties of endangered newts (salamanders) that breed in the Japanese Pool in the garden. Strawberry Creek runs through the garden, pooling delightfully and providing these increasingly rare amphibians with an ideal location in which to spawn and live during their initial water-bound phase of life. They can be tricky to spot; be patient in the spring and you'll be rewarded with sights of them, snakes, water bugs, and more.

Brilliant blossoming example of one of the many cactus varieties in the area of the garden devoted to California's own flora.

This striking combination is from the South African collection, one of the most colorful and fascinating areas of the garden.

Another example of the color and variety of plants to be found in South Africa.

Sun-dappled tree lover before one of the mighty Dawn Redwoods (Metasequoia glyptostroboides) in the garden. The Dawn Redwood, native to China, survives today in very few locations around the globe. The small cluster of specimens in the garden were one of its very first plantings, and are the first collection of its kind on the West Coast.

Recently returned from a trip to San Francisco,  the East Bay, and Sonoma.  Did I photograph the glorious blue bay, its wondrous bridges and celestial sunsets? City streets so steep you wouldn’t roller blade down them to save your life?  The crab fishers on Torpedo Wharf, the mighty spans of the Golden Gate Bridge, the twisted route of Lombard Street?  The unique, shall we say, violinist busking in Golden Gate Park?  The rooftop greenery of the recently reopened Academy of Sciences?  The rolling vineyards and wooded fields of Sonoma?  The foggy hillsides of the mist-shrouded Russian River valley?  The crashing waves of the mighty Pacific at Land’s End?

Well, no.  Instead, I photographed…

Take a look below, you can see for yourself.  Looks like I’ve been to SF too many times–got all those super pix before, on previous visits.

This is SF and its environs as I saw it this year.

At the top of the city, and soon to go higher. N on our way to Coit Tower. Energy supreme!

Who needs Pilates classes when you've got...

This? Try it, you'll like it!

Looking for those pix of the other SF delights?  There in the next post, silly.

It’s 6:45p on June 8 and 93 degrees.  I’d say that allows me to assert that spring is over.

Stiflingly, bafflingly, sadly over.

I’ll miss it.  Because although the Great Lakes region had a ridiculously cold, dark, and soppy wet spring that ruined many an outing, picnic, wedding, and graduation, gorgeous blossoms, color, and greenery dazzled us, and made up for much of the hassle of living in what often felt like a fish bowl.

Here’s a few favorite shots:

Under Kousa Dogwood--candy red Tulips, Wild Geranium, giant purple Alliums in bud, and much more. Monster ferns taking over all.

Shooting Star, Solomon Seal, and more ferns. The spring ephemerals were lovely this year--these, and Trillium, Trout Lily, Hepatica, Bleeding Heart, Jack In The Pulpit and more!

The cool blues of Jacob's Ladder, Allium, Daffodil, Columbine, and Shooting Star under the Redbud. These shots focus on our flowering plants, but the blossoming trees and shrubs also were thick, glorious, and long lasting this year.

The pretty petite white Lilac we planted several years ago finally bore lush, scented flowers--definitely worth the wait!

Hard to believe it’s come and gone.

But what appears to be enduring is the pattern we’ve been in here since ’06 of wet, cool, lush springs (last year’s intense heat in early spring being an aberration).  Our precipitation has shot up markedly–not just in spring, but with winter snowfalls as well.  I like it, overall.  Not when the back yard floods (thoughtless neighbors with their ‘grandfathered’ asphalt patio), and certainly not when water entered the house in the fall of ’08.  And, to be honest, I could do with less weeding.

But it seems to me that our area of the Great Lakes region should be, well, moist.  After all, it wasn’t so long ago–geologically speaking–that our neighborhood was either under water, or likely a teaming, soupy wetland.

Perhaps, after a number of years of oddly dry weather, Mother Nature is righting things.

Or trying to.

Either that, or clobbering our densely matted brains with wildly wet weather, drumming into our heads her message that she is not happy.

Not happy, at all…

Note that I said, remodeling. Not renovating.  I’ve done both, and then some, and the two tasks, although related, are vastly different.

Seriously, it is a joy to tackle a job like this, enjoy doing it, achieve near perfect results and, to boot, thoroughly like and trust your painters.  I can honestly say that the company I worked with is the best I’ve ever used:  professional, prompt, easy to talk to, quality work, friendly, clean, and local.

How often have you heard a weary homeowner assert that?

On to the changes.

But first, lest we forget, some shots of what we changed.

L’s room.  Wild, wacky, and fun.  Done by her, years ago.  But layered with ribbons of paint, chunky and rivuleted.  Overdue for a change:

I've been asking the same question...Loved the vibrant blue flower all these years!

Rich pumpkins and oranges that I'll miss. But time to expand the uses to which this room is put...

The harsh light of the flash is unflattering; this room has been lively and energizing for years.

N’s sunny, warm, and quiet room.  Always one of my, and the cats,  favorite spaces in the house.  In solid shape, but calling for color, patching, and uplift:

Facelift needed. This room has always said green to me, and it's time to put it to better use (my winter study and workspace when the mercury drops).

Our space, busy with color obsessions and ruminations:

Color swatches...That's the lovely China Silk in lower left.

Don't think I've ever worked so steadily with color. Daunting, when one isn't used to it. Got rapidly easier. Like everything, color is an acquired skill.

And, the changes…All worked really well!

First, us:

China Silk! The light is a bit gray (morning of the blizzard). But, this elegant pink, with hints of mauve and beige, is still stunning. I'm trying to figure out where else I can use it.

More China Silk. Pretty, sophisticated. Changes in different light, different times of day. Rejuvenating and, like most pinks, very flattering. This pink beautifully compliments the rustic blues in some of our furniture, and the pinks, roses, and purples in our botanical prints.

N’s lair, newly smoothed, colored, and freshened:

Soft Fern, lightened by half with white. Very inviting.

Refreshing, warm, and studious. Just right for a bedroom and study combined.

Shadow play, morning light.

Finally, L’s space.

Although I will miss the adolescent energy of her paint job, it was time to move on (as has she).  This new rose is playful and lively, invoking the spirit of the room’s former occupant.

The glorious Mexicali Rose (lightened by half with white). Lots of prep required, but worth it!

Vibrant and warm, but never overwhelming. Mexicali Rose, lightened with white.

When the men returned to correct some areas in this alcove, I decided to bring the rose into it. Had first left this space white (China White, plus white), but it needed color. Still left one wall in China White; felt the rose too intense for all four walls. Works well, although could have done the combined wall colors, perhaps, a bit more skillfully? Or, am I being too hard on myself?

China Silk and Mexicali Rose are Pittsburgh Paint; Soft Fern and China White are Benjamin Moore.  Pittsburgh paints formulated using Benjamin Moore bases.  As Benjamin Moore now makes a low VOC base that can be combined with any pigment, Mexicali Rose was made with this low VOC base.   Had we learned about this new base earlier, all the paint would have been combined with it.

Snowbank outside west window

Snow webbing on east door

Under the deep blanket of snow

Well, we made it.

Muscles are sore, Advil is flying off store shelves, blood is returning to feet and fingers, and cheeks are ruddy.

Here in the near north suburbs of Chicago, all streets are clear, parking lots are open, and snow mountains tower over intersections.  Driveways, for the most part, are clear (four hours to do our long drive–and that was working with J, alternating between our electric blower and shoveling, and helping neighbors).

Sidewalks are starting to reappear.  Dog walkers and joggers are in the street, kids tunnel through snow mounds, the sun is brilliant, the sky a benign blue, and downy woodpeckers vigorously drill for insects.

And, the skating rink at Gillson Park is clear; gotta love our town!

But, as you might have heard, not all is well in snowtastic Chicago.

Aside from the perennial issue of how to clear the thousands of alleys in the city (I well remember being frustrated by that when we lived in Indian Boundary Park), many are hopping mad about the Lake Shore Drive debacle.

Before passing judgment, it’s only fair to mention a few facts.

At 2am Wednesday morning, wind gusts of up to 60 mph were reported at O’Hare Airport.  This was not a mere snowstorm; this was, as predicted, a blizzard.

Residents of the entire metropolitan region were inundated with warnings,  starting days before the storm and repeated endlessly on TV, radio, newspaper, and internet, that the biggest storm in 40 years was approaching.  Precautions were advised and spelled out and, conveniently, we were told precisely when the storm would hit–3pm Tuesday (which is when the storm did hit).

Further, compare how well Chicago handled this storm to the big snows of ’67, ’79, and ’99. Much better.  After all, political shirts were lost in the aftermath of ’79 due to administrative bungling of that storm and its cleanup.

And finally, I think a meteorologist would assert that this storm was worse than those earlier ones with its fierce winds and true blizzard characteristics (things I don’t recall in any of the previous years).

On the other hand, I was not stuck in a frozen metal box of a car on Lake Shore Drive for six hours or more.

So, the whole LSD jam is a serious problem, and the city was lucky no one was injured or died in the mess.  It’s more than reasonable to ask why this happened, why the city didn’t shut down the road earlier, and whether enough safety personnel were sent to the scene.

But, there is also a case to made that many of the motorists who entered the drive during the late afternoon and early evening hours of the storm were asking for it.  (Note that I’m not questioning those who got on the busses.  It makes sense that a commuter might take his or her usual bus, trusting the CTA to reach a sound judgment regarding the safety of its route.)

Even I, a casual walker of the lake front, knew that strong warnings had been issued to stay away from the lake:  high winds, waves, and whiteout conditions were expected to be at their worst there.  Indeed I was frustrated; I’d hoped to see the lake in such a ferocious and unusual state, but didn’t dare drive to it.

There is no way I would have planned to drive along the lakefront for, say, 30 minutes.

What does it recquire to get people to take seriously the brute force of Mother Nature?

Is the problem that too many of us–modern, applianced, and upholstered–are just too insulated from nature to possess a healthy awe of its power?

I think so.  And I can’t help but think that some of the behavior that we saw during this storm demonstrates that lack of awareness.

But that, perhaps, might be changing.

A good thing seems to be arising from global warming, and the wild weather patterns it generates.  Like those hardy souls who came before us not sheltered from nature, many of us are now forced to confront weather in ways we haven’t for generations.

We might, perhaps, be becoming what some might call timid in the face of nature.  Others, like myself, call it respectful.

The awesome and terrifying shape that nature sporadically takes is something we simply can no longer ignore.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/03/us/03chicago.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=chicago%20storm&st=cse

Sedum under snow

One of the hardy boys...

After the storm. Blue skies...all around us, nothing but blue skies.

Paint. Intrigue, infighting, scandals. Caravans of color carriers. But no brand names, no hype. Old school. And a very good eye. Eyes that don't exist today?

China Silk, Lily Lavender, and Soft Fern.

The second floor of our abode is soon to be transformed into a…lively, warm, and colorful space?

Or the interior of a demented Easter egg??

Oh, the endless ruminations of a restless house painter.

(But, what a relief to have questions like this to worry about, instead of that…!)

I have about eleven patches of sample paint colors splattered up and about the walls of the bedrooms, and am still quibbling.

How does one decide?

(And, did you know that the world of interior house painting is actually a seething demi-monde of ruthlessly competing paint manufacturers jealously guarding ‘their formulas’ while thieving designers–so I was told–and DIY-er’s rip off the colors–and who, you might ask, owns a color?–scurrying about seeking cheaper ways to get the paint made??)

Well, perhaps I exaggerate–the VOC’s are thickening.

But, I did learn this week after stumbling into the world of Pantone Paints (ridiculously over-priced) that not only are Pantone salesmen comically snooty (it’s house paint) but some people take Pantone colors–assuming you can ‘take’ a Pantone color anywhere as they don’t make paper chips nor do they sell samples glibly–and attempt to get it replicated elsewhere, using different, and cheaper, bases and pigments.

Now, naturally, the Pantone people will claim that doing such a thing is akin to selling Prada on the sidewalk, but who am I–ignorant homeowner that I am–to say?

And I thought most people these days were wandering about mulling over the finer points of President Obama’s State Of The Union address.

Long story short, I’m going with Ben Moore and one Pittsburgh.

But, now of course, I’m not really sure what it means to say that in the world of interior house paint.  And,  I’ve learned sadly, but without surprise (I’ve owned more than one house) that yet another arena in the world of home maintenance is riddled with pitfalls for the unsuspecting homeowner.

And, by golly, I’m going with color.

Bring it on!

The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and the temps here–upper Midwest, Great Lakes Region–hover in the low 20′s.  The glistening snow that dropped from the sky a little over a week ago–creating a picture perfect white Christmas–is gone, melted into ground and stream.  The lawns are grey-green, brittle and bruised looking.  All are resting, as we should be, being the mammals we are.

But of course we don’t.

What a strange, fun, hilarious, weepy time ‘the holidays’ were.  Then it ends.  Just like that.

Like most of us, no matter how bone tired I feel at points in the press towards Christmas and New Year’s, no matter how many times I mutter under my breath that next year I will not be so foolish, so naive, so silly to tackle all this again, I, like the rest of us, do.

So, here I sit, avoiding working (I’m a writer), perusing this and that shot, and picking a few to post.  It’s a bit hard–I didn’t get as many ‘good’ ones (and what makes a photo good?) as usual, and I’m becoming fussier over issues like privacy.

(Privacy and photography are not happy bed partners…)

Here’s a few shots from our holidays; how were yours?

Martha S would, I think, approve. Look at this organization! Preppin' for T-day feast...

She always wanted to be an Indian Princess. Redux.

Post T-day jaunt. All dressed up and lookin' like a grown up.

Pink in December. I am a year older.

There's a turkey in the tree! Ben Franklin would applaud.

Three bakers.

Red on the brightest night. Prep for the crowd on C'mas Eve.

The gift grab. Madness, greed, and glory. As N drolly pointed out, does this really bring out the best in us? Well, sure it does! On a separate note, I did not get a group shot, as I'd planned on doing (I was too busy attending to the needs of a crowd of almost 30 at one point). Ack, candid shots are so very hard to pull off well!

The calm of Christmas morning, awake before the others. (Actually, I really hadn't gotten much sleep--I'd cleaned into the deepest hours of the night, James Brown keeping me and L company and giving us the energy to get it all picked up!)

My cats always help with cleanup...Lest you think this group looked tame, we went through nearly a case of Cava! (Not to mention other sundry beverages and foods fit for the night.)

I would--if I were you...

Copper and candles.

Crystal garden...December 27.

Ice & blue.

The fading, some might say, beauty of the artistry of B & G, Denmark. A nod to the Danes and Germans of yesteryear Chicago.

Purr-fection.

Proud defender of hearth and home!

In with the new, out with the old.

No caption necessary. (Sorry, R, I, and J--you didn't bring home good pix of yourselves!)

And, that’s the way it is.