Travel is meant to broaden the mind. I think it just confuses me. I just got back from England where I spent the first half of my life, but is now almost a foreign country. I'm overwhelmed by echoes from the past.
A shop in Spitalfields -- Jack the Ripper territory --where I never ventured as a child since the buildings were black as your hat. It's now rather chic.
I search for typically English things: here a roller towel -- something that doesn't exist in America.
Here a poster of where my brother worked for many un/happy years and charming lampshades by Cressida Bell.
I go on a bus through Picadilly Circus where large numbers of people are rushing about as people do in cities....
We are out on Long Island where we used to live and have a big garden, so it's bitter-sweet enjoying what used to be commonplace.
On the other hand, Countrymice might want a glimpse of the city. The answer, of course, would to be astoundingly rich and have both....and then there is the bother of two refrigerators and so on. But I digress.
My cell phone has this gizmo ( I think it was free) called Frametastic. Not sure whether it is a good thing or not. Anyway, it's fun to play around with.
As well as looking at flowers, we went to the beach where I managed to study vegetation too.
Probably better without Frametastic.
Talking about beach reads, three of my books are now available in a Kindle edition and therefore super inexpensive.
A Fortunate Child a novel based on the true story of two women, one German, one English, during the Second World War. About mothers and daughters and adoption and joy and loss.
Two flats of impatiens to be planted before the party.
Need to keep the young gainfully employed and off the street.
Many happy hours spent watering.
Today, I went up to Union Square and saw lots of fancy nasturtiums all ready to eat. (Lisa Hermanson always recommends photographing stuff through plastic). We used to eat nasturtiums in the old centrury. The long poiny bit contains stuff almost as sweet as honey.
Pea sprouts (through plastic!)
Serried ranks of asparagus standing to attention like those buried Chinese warriors. It is asparagas season
and peony season (possibly my favorite flower ever --so showy, so blowsy, so fragrant so debutate ball summery).
Here stuff you can take home to make your own garden (if you have a garden, that is.)
I asked if I could take a picture of the Flowering Sage, and the young man offered to turn the tub round so the price wasn't in the picture, but I said, no no --it's lovely as it is.
On Thursday I was walking past the old Alcamo Marble place which went out of business last year. I imagine it is about to be turned into a new swanky gallery. Meanwhile it somehow manages to remind me of a Dutch genre painting...
You know all -- that red brickwork and a maid sweeping
we even have the requisite bird --with little footprints
and the still life on top of the oil can. None of the colors above have been tweaked.
Now the Instagram version. How filters alter everything.
Later in the day at the Neue Galerie it pelted with rain, and it was good to be inside. Sepia tends to make things look a bit distant and sweet. I remember Edmund de Waal saying he didn't want to write a 'sepia saga' --where the past is oddly sanitized.
How the rain came down! Anyhow, in spite of all the excitement about the Klimt exhibition, my day was made by the discovery of the work of Heinrich Kuhn.
I had never heard of him before and am now utterly and completely smitten. He is the most painterly of photographers. Wonderful.