The Voice of the Turtle Is Heard in the Land

Four years ago on May 23, 2013, I published the blog post below, which is basically a love song to my New England village of Grafton.  It started with a photo of the mean giant snapping turtle who comes every year across the road from the lakeside to lay her eggs in our front yard.  

I didn't see her last year and yesterday I was saying, "I wonder if that turtle's still alive?" but just now I looked out of the second floor bedroom window and there she was in the driveway.  So I went outside to say hello and she glared back as always.  I know she'll be several hours out there digging a hole and then laying her eggs (very slowly!) and then we'll try to help her get back across the street safely.

Right now, exactly as I wrote four years ago, the irises and the clematis are in flower and the peonies are about to pop open and I've been photographing it all.  And just as I said then, I'm dreaming about being able to afford a tiny apartment in New York, so I can spend my declining years there. But every spring I start watching for this turtle and I realize there's no place I'd rather be than here in our 300-year-old house in Grafton.   

 
Song of Solomon 2:11-12 (KJV)
¹¹ For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
¹² The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;

She came today, just as she does every year, crossing the road from the lake, digging a nest in our front yard and laying her eggs--the biggest,  meanest old snapping turtle you ever saw, but we always watch from a distance and make sure she makes it back across the road without becoming road kill.

And today the clematis started to pop open and so did the best of the irises.

Last week I was back in New York City. We dined at Swifty's and I walked through Central Park every day at the height of its blossoming and I tried to figure out how I could sell our country house in the Massachusetts village of Grafton and buy a tiny apartment in New York to spend our declining years, but then I got back home for last weekend and realized that Manhattan can't hold a candle to our New England village.

At the Common they were celebrating Grafton History Day--the 150th anniversary of a time when both the Town House and the Unitarian Church were burned down on Sept 11, 1862 as the Civil War was raging, and rebuilt in 1863.

Linda Casey, president of the Grafton Historical Society, greeted me in her daytime dress.  She had another gown for the ball that night.

There was a  Civil War muster and the Mass. 13th Volunteer Infantry Regiment was recreating an authentic Civil War encampment.

Ladies were buying plants on the common, no matter what the shape and size of their petticoats.

Next I went to the Plantapalooza at the Community Barn and Harvest Project where kids and adults were planting about a gazillion tomato plants as part of the community's volunteer farming for hunger relief (they give away everything they've grown) .  And everyone who came got free tomato plants. 

You could meet alpacas and go on the cookie walk & buy handmade crafts and local honey and jams.

And of course there were the yards sales on the weekend--I bought somebody's grandmother's collectible dolls for $2.00 each.  And the all the doll clothes for another $2.00.

Manhattan may be my favorite big city, but as Dorothy said, there's no place like home.

Spring Has Sprung in Manhattan

  "April is the cruelest month," wrote T. S. Elliot, but for the Gage family, the current month of April, which we spent in New York, has been the best ever, as we greeted a new little grandson and watched the city burst into bloom after a winter of record snow.

On April 2, Nicolas José Baltodano Gage was born--our second grandchild and Amalia's little brother.  And in Central Park, the snow drops were blossoming among the snow drifts.

 On April 5 Baby Baltodano headed for home strapped to his Papi's chest, because home was only two blocks from the hospital.

On April 9, Amalia colored eggs for Greek Easter (on April 12 this year) while Tia Marina, visiting from San Francisco, talked on the phone.  Amalia made the chick and rabbit place cards for the Easter table as well...

...and Nicolas celebrated being one week old.

On April 12, there was an egg hunt at home, followed by church at Holy Trinity Cathedral...

...Nicolas chatted with Amalia from his basket...

...and Uncle Bob's egg beat all challengers at the egg cracking game.

The next day Nicolas enjoyed his first outing-- to Central Park near the boat pond-- but he's hidden under Eleni's breastfeeding shawl...

...while Amalia examined the fountain in her favorite playground, which will squirt water on hot summer days.

On April 18, the first really warm day, people gathered outside their favorite coffee shop in the sun  on Lexington Avenue next to masses of flowers...

...And two statues of the Virgin Mary had their own offerings of fresh flowers.

Tulips were blooming everywhere.

On April 18, because the baby's umbilical cord stub had come off, the family gathered on the balcony to plant it for strength and health in the dirt of one of the trees--a custom in Papi Emilio's native Nicaragua.

Amalia did the digging.

On Monday the 20th,  April showers began, but Amalia was ready, with her rain coat, rain boots and umbrella, for Papou to take her to preschool.

On our last day before returning to Massachusetts, Eleni took us to lunch at a restaurant on 81st Street called Antonucci's, and on the way, she snapped our picture in front of this great grafitti work of art by Nick Walker, an artist from Bristol, England  (not Banksy, who is from the same city.)  We really do love New York in the Spring, especially in April!

Halloween Ghouls in Manhattan

 Strolling yesterday on Manhattan's Upper East Side after dropping Amalia at preschool, I discovered the truly terrifying lengths some New Yorkers will go to decorate their brownstones and apartment entrances for Halloween.  (Is that an Obama ghoul on the lower right above?)

 Walking on 74th Street from Lexington toward Fifth, I noticed a low-flying witch had been crushed by a giant pumpkin.

This brownstone included life-sized figures that could sing and/or move.

While this man's dog was investigating the singing skeleton and he was admiring the moving witch, he told us to go over to 72nd Street between Madison and Park to see another spooky brownstone.

A female zombie welcomed us.

A skull-lined staircase with an old woman at the top, flanked by a witch...

...and a zombie bride.

Four floors of ghouls beckoned us to come in.

The front courtyard hosted a dragon and a lot of spooky folks...

 

....including this head in a glass globe.

Someone told us that this house becomes a haunted house open to visitors at night, but I think we'll skip that on Halloween, and go trick-or-treating instead with Amalia on 76th Street, which will be closed to traffic for the little costumed ghouls who come in droves to each brownstone, including the home of former Mayor Bloomberg.

Gardening on the Fourteenth Floor

When daughter Eleni, her husband Emilio and their toddler Amalia moved from one apartment in their building to another, bigger one, as soon as I realized that it had a balcony, I vowed to plant things so that from the living room it would look like there was a garden outside.  Another reason for adding planters was to close off the openings under the fence around the balcony, to prevent Amalia from slipping under or pushing things off  (not that she would ever be allowed on the balcony without an adult!  The glass door to the balcony is kept double-locked.)

(This is how it looked before they moved in.)

This balcony is on the fourteenth floor, facing south and east, and the winds out there are fierce.  Now, I am in no way an expert gardener, and I had no idea how much sun different sections of the balcony would get.

Early June

In early June I assembled and drove in from Massachusetts some inexpensive planters, bags of dirt,  geraniums, pansies, Dusty Miller, New Guinea Impatiens, and some plants with multi-colored leaves that I know like being in the  shade.  I also brought two large round planters that had a Greek acacia leaf design and two small evergreen trees that look like cypresses but aren't. (Can't remember their name, but I know they grow fast.)  The whole thing was very reasonable--because I bought it all in Massachusetts,  not New York City.

At the beginning

I quickly learned a lot about balcony gardening! All the pansies I planted around the two trees promptly died.  So did some of the impatiens which were getting too much sun. ( Later I planted a dwarf sunflower in the sunniest spot.)  The Dusty Miller survived--it always does--and the geraniums did okay.

Late July, looking northeast

Late July, looking south

But the flowers that amazed me with their exuberance were the transplanted Morning Glory plants, grown from seed, that rapidly charged up the dental floss strings that I had tied to the top railings of the balcony, and then hurried across the top, growing so fast you could almost see them go.  I never thought that tender Morning Glories would withstand the harsh winds and lack of consistent sun on that balcony, but they are now draped inside and out, searching for the sunniest spots.

Even from the street below they make the balcony stand out from the rest.

I'm pleased with the results so far, but about half the plants didn't survive and I'd  appreciate advice from expert gardeners out there as to what, besides morning glories, would flourish up there on the 14th floor.  I know that everything will freeze come winter, but I'm hoping we can keep the trees alive--taking them inside if necessary.

We're certainly not the only ones in the neighborhood who are gardening high in the clouds.  Some incredible gardens with outdoor furniture and statues and large trees are visible from Eleni's apartment.  The leggy beauty above always puzzles people who are looking down from the kitchen window.  She lives on the roof of a nearby brownstones far below.  After much sleuthing, we found out that she is a work of art and the brownstone is an art gallery.  The building is called the  Waterfall Mansion because it has the largest indoor waterfall in New York--23 feet!.  And it all could be yours for only $31 million.

Here's a party they had on the roof while I was visiting New York in July (and snooping on the neighbors.)  Their garden on the roof is a little more lavish than Eleni's balcony garden, but I can use it as inspiration for what we'll be planting next year.