sunday morning poem - and baking, cleaning and a walk

 

a poet's cat, sedate and grave

as poet well could wish to have

was much addicted to inquire

for nooks to which she might retire,

and where, secure as mouse in chink,

she might repose, or sit and think.

from "the retired cat"

by william cowper (1731-1800)

cat poems, page 84, new directions, 2018

----

we had a big breakfast this morning before going our separate ways for the day. chanda went to see a movie with her friends (a documentary titled the history of concrete) and greg and i worked out the area we want to paint in the bathroom so i know how much paint to get. he then vacuumed and dusted and straightened up the large bedroom while i baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies (some with walnuts) which i've been wanting to do for two weeks now, ever since our neighbor was nice enough to watch the cats while we were away at the house.  

the cats had to be put away as they became uncontrollable when i unwrapped the butter for the cookie dough.

it gets dark earlier and earlier each evening . . 

we still have many green trees . . 

and the berries are out (but not sure what plant this is) . . 

goldenrod still in bloom . . 

goldenrod gone to seed . . 

the oaks and maples are beginning to turn . .

spiders and skeletons seem to be the main theme for halloween decorations this year . . 

and many, many gourds . . 

running errands - again; on a hot summer day - again

the myka yogurt place has not had a line these past two mornings when i pass by . . so i've stopped in for a small yogurt with two toppings each day. yesterday i had chocolate chips and walnuts. today i had olive oil and ground pistachios . . so delicious! this photo is a true new york social media moment: i was talking to my cousin while eating the yogurt and taking a picture! i was going to post it on my ig . . well, maybe i'll do so later. (i was on my way to print out the letter to our cat sitter and was finally successful!) i also stopped at the sustainable shop for a refill of dish detergent.

i've probably passed this dog sculpture more than a dozen times, but today was the first day i noticed it (on 9th or 10th street).

zuzu likes to join me when i sit at the table to write out cards or a letter. thankfully, she let me write this afternoon, and didn't try to head butt me or knock the pen from my hand . . or sit on the card itself. twice last week i stopped working on this task because of her. yes, i'd much rather procrastinate further with my correspondence than put her away in the bedroom. 

we had a nice dinner tonight of left over tuna (for greg) and chicken thighs for chanda and i. chanda did a work shift today and brought home beautiful looking cauliflower and patty pan squash, so we had fresh vegetables too. (it's quite hot today - 93 degrees - but we all must be used to it finally as no one has suggested putting the air conditioner on. of course, 93 is not as bad as 100! we do have the fans going, and there was a nice breeze . . which has sadly disappeared.)

it's almost 11 pm . . i still need to do duolingo and babbel . . language learning has been neglected these past two weeks as i've concentrated on packing and getting the cats and apartment ready for being away for a little bit. 

greg has already fallen asleep.

and here is korrina's beautiful photo from her evening beach visit.

coffee and feverfew flowers

 

i walked to abraço today for their iced frappe and then walked home along 14th street.

everyone was wearing their knicks regalia as they made the finals and the city is in total go knicks mode.

feverfew in the union square green market. i love feverfew and chamomile flowers (they smell similar to me).

unfortunately, neither are good for the cats.

sunday morning poem and our sunday walk

 my grandfather's well

i never met grandfather, but i can see him

close to a well in yaffa. the forehead he's wiping

is a glittering, wrinkled map of the past.

his olive-wood cane leans

against an orange tree.

i can see birds the color of earth

when it rains.

i can watch them

harvest oranges, pile them

on roofs of houses

in the refugee camp.

where have you been? grandfather asks me,

his voice getting

weary of

plowing the thick, muddy

soil of language.

my arms are down, too tired to lift

even to say hi.

i've been pulling up buckets of water

from the camp's well,

searching for words

for my epic.

my grandfather stands close to the well.

he never abandoned it, even after the nakba,

even after death.

his hands pour water

down into the well.

in the refugee camp,

where land is strewn with 

debris, where air chokes with rage,

my harvest is yet to arrive,

my seeds only sprout on this page.

by mosab abu toha (born 1992)

from forest of noise, 2024

----

greg and zuzu relaxing together . . . 

i put cricket and pluto away so zuzu could wander around in the living room for a little bit. she's back in the cone because the onesie chanda picked up yesterday from our veterinarian is too long for her to walk in, and the second one is a little snug. we'll put that one on again later, though.

forest of noise, from whence today's poem came . . 

after breakfast with chanda, greg and i went for a walk in the afternoon . . it was a little cloudy, but spring-like and we could smell the warming soil.

daffodils and crocuses and snowdrops are popping up . . 

the independent merchants were out selling their wares . . carpets, clothing, shoes, tibetan singing bowls, earrings, picture frames, beads, small stone animal statues . . .

we couldn't resist stopping for ice cream . . 

black cherry chip ice cream topped with sweet cherries and sauce and hot fudge.

we still have some dirty snow piles!

zuzu in the smaller onesie.

wandering

 
i passed this mural on second street today . . 

and also popped into this little cookbook shop (which was just up the block from the mural) and had a nice chat with the owner who was very friendly and talking with each customer that wandered in. she had a paper list of all the local independent bookstores in the neighborhood. i was looking for the horn of the moon cookbook, but she said she sold her copy a few years ago. i think strand might have it.

i then wandered to the east village health food store, and then met kendall at the union square green market to say hello. (her sister showed up at the same time . . just out of the blue, thinking she would see kendall there - how serendipitous!) i picked up chestnut honey for marisa and a few things for the week (broccoli for dinner tonight).

sunday morning poem and sunday stroll

august 16

i sing of you, migrating heron.

i sing of your whiteness and your sauntering gait in fallow land.

and i sing of you, resident hoopoe.

i sing of your little crown as you gather seeds from a plowed field.

this is how i am, my song is confused,

it plants one foot in fallow land

and another in plowed fields.

sometimes i recite the resident's prayer,

other times the prayer of the traveler.

by zakaria mohammed (1951-2023) 

translated from the arabic by lena khalaf tuffaha

----

our first watermelon this summer and, thankfully, it was perfect. it was ten dollars, which is why it was the first and possibly the only one. it was also heavy to carry home. when the girls were little i remember buying a watermelon in florida for two dollars.

sunday breakfast. i had read today's poem last sunday, so this sunday we read several greek poems about cicadas. maybe i'll post them for next sunday. i heard our first summer cicada at the beginning of august and last night i heard a cricket. i find the sound of crickets chirping so soothing. we don't get many in our courtyard.

walking with greg along twelfth street (he's talking to korrina on his phone with an update on grandma who hasn't been feeling well).

we walked over to pet co at union square for cat food. he hadn't yet seen their new flagship store that opened on park avenue. he was duly impressed and we had fun peeking at the schnauzer being groomed, the german shepherd being washed in a big sink, the customers buying special wet dog food from the refrigerated fresh food section, the pet owners bringing their dogs and cats to the veterinary area and the adorable cats waiting for adoption in their glass enclosures. upstairs we saw the birds and reptiles and also picked out the canned cat food we wanted (tiki and tastefuls).

and then we walked four blocks to lyseé (a korean french bakery) so i could get their signature latte and a cookie.

we sat and read by madison park.

the inner part was a banana puree. i still like their buckwheat tahini cookie the best.

sixth avenue street fair . . 

bananagrams after dinner . . 

part of tonight's dinner discussion centered on how detrimental humanity is for earth and the downfall began with civilization, no . . they both sided with the downfall beginning with agriculture.

actually, that was at breakfast.