Turbo Junior (one of the grey cats) is perched next to me, a grey gumdrop, surveying the front yard for something to chase and catch. He is so vigilant that I hope a little something comes out from under the house to give him a little thrill. Shady is curled up, a comma, on the floor taking in the breezes while we spend a little time between the drop off and return to Taughannock for Alex to preseason with the team. We are waiting to give the others a little more time to sleep before I shuffle them off to Trumansburg for the day. It is such a beautiful, cool morning—that I am grabbing as much of this as I can before I go to the command central to start directing and doing.
The hostas are in bloom, so Turbo and I are revelling in the cloud of pure scent that is coming our way. I imagine this high lily fragrance is one that might have accompanied the angels in annunciation scenes as a similar flower was presented to the young and naive Mary. Always with a beautiful palette, lots of gold and splash and the winsome, asexual angel—having to deliver the news (might not be the best to an unmarried, young woman) that yes indeedy, Miss Mary was going to have a baby. The lily was kind of the peace offering, the sweetener, the holy FTD arrangement to soften the blow. I hope it did the trick. I know I would not have been charmed. Confused and furious…more like it. I love thinking about an alternative Renaissance Annunication image (maybe in the Botticelli style as it is so stylish and the color so very pretty) of the announcement to Mary and what the real emotions and response was versus little Miss Placid just taking the news. I love the idea of the “what the f*ck!” fury that is more the reality. Mary shaking her fist at the heavens? Mary crying her heart out? Mary rushing the horrified angel—grabbing his arms and shaking him fiercely? No little antiseptic, prissy litttle ” thank you very much” but a full bore Italian response. Declarations of how this is not to be her fate! Calling down pain and injury to the messenger? Hurling herself to the floor to beat it with her fists—raging and fuming? Whoa. Talk about the Renaissance graphic novel. Its this sort of situation that makes me wish I was more comfortable painting than using graphic tools.
I have been honored to be asked to sit on the Trumansburg Farmers’ Market board. I had my first meeting last night which I throughly enjoyed as the women are all very bright, very articulate and represent different facets of local food so the conversation was interesting, educational and much of it actionable. The Market is a young one—but developed and managed by an exceptional manager, Deirdre Cunningham who is stepping down from her position after the season ends so we will need to find a new manager to take this nascent project to the next step. We have a lot to be thankful for. Deirdre (and the Board and Village Board) have really moved the needle on this amazing addition to the community. I mean, within the two years—the community built a market structure and then a charming bandstand in the middle of it. It has gone from a quiet little event to a place that people go to eat, to shop, to meet. There is local music every week and sometimes a performer who juggles and plays the banjo for the littles. All of this change and positive growth needs to be brokered, managed, promoted and organized. This is no small task that I would hope we do not take for granted….but we do as it just magically happens without understanding the sheer brawn and brains it takes to make it seem so seamless. What an amazing place this has become. I hope I can be helpful to maintain and move it forward.
So today I will put up a Farmers Market page on Facebook and create a flier for the new position and get rolling in the doing. I think there is a lot to do, to say, to design, to direct as a member of the board that I can be helpful with—and with the new time that is mine from the Hangar— this should not be an imposition. Should be fun getting to know these new and smart people too.
More soup in the pot for today’s lunch fest. Carrot. The recycled soup from yesterday was devoured with many of the team going back for seconds and thirds. I added some frozen veggies and the whole thing was looking good—so I added a small bag of frozen shrimp to take it to another level. If only I had a bit more fresh corn. Ah well. Cheaper than lunchmeat and chips. So much better. I do not think the carrot soup will delight as much. I can only hope. Bean soup for tomorrow as I have white beans soaking in the pot part of my wonderful pressure cooker as we speak. And I will get a ham hock when I pick up cat food for the cat empire this p.m.
Loving the Green Men pictures. Not ready to give them up. I have got a little mojo going—and so I will ride it out. I want to clip a few leaf clusters from “Professor Wells”, our English Oak here at the Luckystone for reference. I should get some other oak leaves too as acorns are on my mind—and want to see where this could go. This tree is so named as it was planted by the family to recognize the Luckystone’s former owner and it was penned in on a landscape map that came with the house. This curious little diagram drawn in pencil and filled in with watercolor all of the trees, plantings, former gardens and beds that the Fitchen and Wells family contributed to the environment here. We really should take it out of the frame and point out which trees died, which came down in the big storm and how we have reconfigured things to our liking (very little change).
That’s it for now. Things are to our liking with very little change (or at least today). Time to go forth and be productive.
(did I mention that I am loving my Kensington iPad keyboard? I am!)