One Perfect Saturday -- Part 1
Apr. 28th, 2003 12:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanEric, who is basically an optimist, had told me when we talked Friday evening that he would really like to get moving by noon. I demurred, and having ascertained the time of sunset, we decided that I would call him at noon and let him know how far along I was in the process of getting ready. I had set the alarm, but woke up, not too underslept for me these days, about fifteen minutes before it would have gone off.
I medicated Minou and gave Ari some wet food too; took a shower; had a banana with my medicine; made coffee; got dressed; called Eric; and woke him up. We agreed that I'd arrive between one and one-thirty, and that I'd bring some sandwiches. The pickings were a little slim. I'd gone to Larry Sanderson's lovely party on Wednesday very much as a last-minute decision, and failed to order the groceries by the deadline. (Raphael flung some staples into the order and closed it out for me, which made life much easier but didn't provide extras.) However, I made a smushed-fish sandwich with onions and scallions, and a very-plasticky soy-cheese sandwich with scallions and tomato-red pepper relish. I added apples and a bottle of water.
Then I tried to take my cat outside; it was a staggeringly beautiful day and I wasn't sure when I'd be home again, if at all. He had to be coaxed for ten minutes, but I finally got him outside. He sniffed, rolled in dust, stalked a starling, ate some grass, heard cat-eating monsters, and made a rush for the back door, which was timely enough. He had rolled right on a blooming scilla, but I doubt it will take much harm. The Canada violets and the viola odorata were both blooming in the sunnier spots, and the red water-lily tulips, that I always forget about, were open. The purple ones bloom later, but they have buds. The peonies are all up.
I took the bus to Eric's. We contemplated the bus schedules and decided to try for the 1:58 bus, a 9G. Then we were a little too leisurely in our preparations. Eric kindly offered to carry the lunch, which was very nice indeed for me; and he has a belt pouch designed to carry two water bottles, so I left my smaller one behind.
We saw the bus sail down Franklin when we were a block and a half away. We looked at the schedule and tried to puzzle out the map and finally decided to get the 2:28 bus, which would mean more of a walk, but we had intended to walk, it was part of the point of the day. With pauses to admire tree flowers and emerging leaves, we went along to The Electric Fetus.
While I am sure that store has changed since I lived in the neighborhood in 1978 and 1979, it felt enough the same that I had a very powerful rush of memories from the time that I first moved to Minneapolis. David was living in the basement of the Bozo Bus Building, saving money to buy a house. MinnStf had Frisbee games twice a week, on Tuesday and Thursday, in Fair Oaks Park. I'd so like for my present self to have been there. I'd have handled everything much better and appreciated it so much more.
The Fetus has a fine line in intentionally ironic products and some that were probably not intended as ironic but became so when placed in that context. That was aside from the music.
I found a Greg Brown album I wanted, but it was pricy and buying it would probably have made us miss our bus. We went back to the bus stop, and Eric asked the driver if he went to Wirth and Glenwood. He said he did, but he didn't. He turned off Glenwood onto Penn, cheerfully informing us that if we wanted Glenwood this was the place to get off the bus.
We did, and Eric immediately pointed out the Queen Care Home, which we had noticed the last time we tried to take the bus to the Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden. So we knew where to go, and did so, walking past small shabby houses, some with beautiful gardens. Eric admired some forsythia, and I told him what it was. We heard cardinals and chickadees, and as we neared the park, Eric pointed out a hawk, and then another. They swooped one after the other not far over our heads. He asked me if they were red-tails, being obviously too big to be falcons. I said I thought so. I am better at forsythia. It stays in one place. The hawks were beautiful in their effortless-looking flight, like an accomplished dancer doing exercises.
We walked on, hearing birdsong and reconstructing what we had done last time. The 9G would have left us with only two blocks to walk, but I said I liked the more gradual approach from city to garden. We detoured across Glenwood Avenue to use the restrooms near the beach. Eric saw a dragonfly, a darner, and then another, and then I did too. But there were people running a very loud radio-controlled toy around the parking lot, so having checked the map and having ascertained directions of the compass, we crossed the road again and found the path through the marsh that lies at one end of the lake.
There were more darners, twinkling their wings in the sunlight over the water. "Look at the turtles," Eric whispered to me. Two painted turtles were sunning themselves on a partially-submerged log, one behind the other, their heads at identical angles. We moved cautiously a little closer, and with identical motions they plopped into the water and disppeared. We had had time to see their red and yellow stripes first and agreed on what they were.
A dragonfly flew down the path ahead of us, and we followed it.
Pamela
I medicated Minou and gave Ari some wet food too; took a shower; had a banana with my medicine; made coffee; got dressed; called Eric; and woke him up. We agreed that I'd arrive between one and one-thirty, and that I'd bring some sandwiches. The pickings were a little slim. I'd gone to Larry Sanderson's lovely party on Wednesday very much as a last-minute decision, and failed to order the groceries by the deadline. (Raphael flung some staples into the order and closed it out for me, which made life much easier but didn't provide extras.) However, I made a smushed-fish sandwich with onions and scallions, and a very-plasticky soy-cheese sandwich with scallions and tomato-red pepper relish. I added apples and a bottle of water.
Then I tried to take my cat outside; it was a staggeringly beautiful day and I wasn't sure when I'd be home again, if at all. He had to be coaxed for ten minutes, but I finally got him outside. He sniffed, rolled in dust, stalked a starling, ate some grass, heard cat-eating monsters, and made a rush for the back door, which was timely enough. He had rolled right on a blooming scilla, but I doubt it will take much harm. The Canada violets and the viola odorata were both blooming in the sunnier spots, and the red water-lily tulips, that I always forget about, were open. The purple ones bloom later, but they have buds. The peonies are all up.
I took the bus to Eric's. We contemplated the bus schedules and decided to try for the 1:58 bus, a 9G. Then we were a little too leisurely in our preparations. Eric kindly offered to carry the lunch, which was very nice indeed for me; and he has a belt pouch designed to carry two water bottles, so I left my smaller one behind.
We saw the bus sail down Franklin when we were a block and a half away. We looked at the schedule and tried to puzzle out the map and finally decided to get the 2:28 bus, which would mean more of a walk, but we had intended to walk, it was part of the point of the day. With pauses to admire tree flowers and emerging leaves, we went along to The Electric Fetus.
While I am sure that store has changed since I lived in the neighborhood in 1978 and 1979, it felt enough the same that I had a very powerful rush of memories from the time that I first moved to Minneapolis. David was living in the basement of the Bozo Bus Building, saving money to buy a house. MinnStf had Frisbee games twice a week, on Tuesday and Thursday, in Fair Oaks Park. I'd so like for my present self to have been there. I'd have handled everything much better and appreciated it so much more.
The Fetus has a fine line in intentionally ironic products and some that were probably not intended as ironic but became so when placed in that context. That was aside from the music.
I found a Greg Brown album I wanted, but it was pricy and buying it would probably have made us miss our bus. We went back to the bus stop, and Eric asked the driver if he went to Wirth and Glenwood. He said he did, but he didn't. He turned off Glenwood onto Penn, cheerfully informing us that if we wanted Glenwood this was the place to get off the bus.
We did, and Eric immediately pointed out the Queen Care Home, which we had noticed the last time we tried to take the bus to the Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden. So we knew where to go, and did so, walking past small shabby houses, some with beautiful gardens. Eric admired some forsythia, and I told him what it was. We heard cardinals and chickadees, and as we neared the park, Eric pointed out a hawk, and then another. They swooped one after the other not far over our heads. He asked me if they were red-tails, being obviously too big to be falcons. I said I thought so. I am better at forsythia. It stays in one place. The hawks were beautiful in their effortless-looking flight, like an accomplished dancer doing exercises.
We walked on, hearing birdsong and reconstructing what we had done last time. The 9G would have left us with only two blocks to walk, but I said I liked the more gradual approach from city to garden. We detoured across Glenwood Avenue to use the restrooms near the beach. Eric saw a dragonfly, a darner, and then another, and then I did too. But there were people running a very loud radio-controlled toy around the parking lot, so having checked the map and having ascertained directions of the compass, we crossed the road again and found the path through the marsh that lies at one end of the lake.
There were more darners, twinkling their wings in the sunlight over the water. "Look at the turtles," Eric whispered to me. Two painted turtles were sunning themselves on a partially-submerged log, one behind the other, their heads at identical angles. We moved cautiously a little closer, and with identical motions they plopped into the water and disppeared. We had had time to see their red and yellow stripes first and agreed on what they were.
A dragonfly flew down the path ahead of us, and we followed it.
Pamela
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Staggeringly beautiful day
Date: 2003-04-28 10:42 am (UTC)Staggeringly beautiful Mondays are difficult. They must be enjoyed piecemeal -- a circuitous ride to the office, a manufactured errand, more time than is strictly speaking good for one spent staring out the window.
The leaves are half-unfurled and tender green. By the end of the week the transformation will be complete. It always catches me by surprise -- when I went into the hospital to have my son the world was black-and-white and when I came back out it was in technicolor.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 11:18 am (UTC)Before I read this I was planning to go over to the Eloise Butler garden today. I hope for the company of SLH, but she is asleep at the moment. Perhaps she can join me in an hour or so.
K. [escaping the busy wedding week with a little flowery loveliness. Besides, I only have one bloodroot in bloom, and I expect them have Many]
no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 11:20 am (UTC)Pamela