They Say Today is the Day

SAIGYO, a medieval-age monk wrote,
"Could I die under a cherry blossom tree in full bloom on a full-
moon night of spring?"

Today is the day that the Cherry Blossoms are to bloom in DC. The weather has definitely been warm enough. My husband is out on a bike ride near the tidal basin now. I am anxious to get his report when he returns.

The season is here when DC folks get up from their desks and flock outside. I love this time of year. The weather makes it easier to get out of bed in the morning; warm air flows in from outside instead of bitter cold.

St. Patrick's Day 8K

I keep forgetting to post about my first race of 2006. On Sunday, I ran the St. Patrick's Day 8k in Washington, DC. It was supposed to be a 10k, but the DC police would not approve the course, so an 8k it was. It was a gorgeous day to run, the sun peaked through right at the start of the race (why does that always happen?).

The course was quick and fun. It had a lot of turns which kept things exciting. I would highly recommend this race!

Race Stats:
I finished 234 overall out of 2489 women runners, and 69th in my division of 789 runners. My pace was a 7:57 mile.

I feel like I did pretty good, especially since I was up late hanging out with family the night before.

I just found an indoor public pool blocks away from my apartment. In a way I always knew it was there, but it took a friend telling me that she had also swam there before I actually went to check it out for myself. It is a great free pool, a little sketchy at times, but what isn't in DC? Any DC resident can use it, and guests are allowed.
I absolutely love swimming. I have been twice this week and hope to begin swimming on a regular basis. I used to be so jealous of Bill and Hannah, but now I have a pool too!
The possibility of training for a triathalon is becoming much more real.

I just found this great photography site. The photos are simple, pure, and crisp. They are also very cheap...making good presents.

Check out Alicia Bock, courtesy Decor 8.

These flowers remind me of the beginning of spring. I noticed the small purple flowers with the white centers popping through the mud during my run on Sunday. The wind is becoming less harsh, and the sun is shining longer.

About two years ago I read John Adams by David McCullough. It was an incredible book, but I was left wanting to know more about Abigail. Hearing of my interest in Abigail Adams, my husband's grandmother sent me her copy of Dearest Friend, a Life of Abigail Adams to read. And I am so glad that she did!

This book did an excellent job of characterizing Abigail, and of deciphering her emotions, needs, and wants amongst the multitude of correspondence that she produced. It certainly fullfilled by desire to learn more about Abigail. In fact, I was so drawn in to Abigail's personality that I did not want the book to end. I rationed my reading of the book, allowing myself time to mull over her words of love, commitment, disagreement, and responsibility to her husband and family.

Abigail was a very complex woman, and maybe that is why she is so intriguing. She was highly self-conscience of her ability to write and spell, yet she did not let that stop her from sharing her views of politics in letters to her husband, dignitaries, and newspapers. She believed that a woman's responsibility was to her family and her home. Yet, she stepped outside that boundary quite often, engaging in politics and discussion of the emancipation of women.

But mostly, what draws people to her character and life is the transcendant nature of her letters. They are filled with advice and charges that can be applied [and in some cases should be applied more often] today. Though times have changed, public decency, good character, and a women's strength should not.

My friend started a very interesting blog on current issues facing women today. It is a great site! Also, check out Becca and Bella for another book review.

Simple Pleasures

Barefoot Contessa put new recipes up on her website today, to mark the slow beginning of Spring. Check them out here: http://www.barefootcontessa.com/

I absolutely love the yellow background!

Also, today is the first day of Lent, an increasingly important time of the year for me. My sisters, mother, and grandmother are all reading through Henri Nouwen's Show Me the Way.

A beautiful passage today states, "The Season of Lent, during which Winter and Spring struggle with eachother for dominance, helps us in a special way to cry out for God's mercy."

Frazzeled

I have been very frazzeled lately with not much time to just sit, read, and be still.

Jane Austen once wrote, "Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings." I hope that is not entirely true, but sometimes I look back at my week or month and see only a few shining sparks of brilliant moments in between a lot of gray.

Thoreau points out that "It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?"

Letters in Love

The letters of John and Abigail Adams: always soothing for me, I could read on and on. They contain much wisdom and wonderful insight into our country at the time of revolution, and into a strong marriage/relationship. John and Abigial spent many months and years apart, yet their love for each other continued to grow. Abigail provided support to John's public service, and John in return provided affection.



"No Words, no Actions can express the Ardour of Affection with which I am theirs & yours."

"I have waited with great patience, restraining as much as posible every anxious Idea for 3 Months. But now every Vessel which arrives sits my expectation upon the wing, and I pray my Gaurdian Genious to waft me the happy tidings of your Safety and Welfare. Heitherto my wandering Ideas Rove like the Son of Ulissis from Sea to Sea, and from Shore to Shore, not knowing where to find you. Sometimes I fancy'd you upon the Mighty Waters, sometimes at your desired Haven; sometimes upon the ungratefull and Hostile Shore of Britain, but at all times and in all places under the protecting care and Guardianship of that Being who not only cloathes the lilies of the Feild and hears the young Ravens when they cry, but hath said of how much more worth are ye than many Sparrows, and this confidence which the world cannot deprive me of, is my food by day and my Rest by Night, and was all my consolation under the Horrid Ideas of assassination, the only Event of which I had not thought, and in some measure prepaird my mind."

Wonderful reading for a Valentine's Day.

City Snowstorm

A Snow-filled Street



Our beloved bagel shop is closed, popovers for breakfast instead



There will be no moving about today



A City Park becomes a Winter Wonderland



A snowy lady liberty

Cezanne

Last night I attended a private showing of the Cezanne collection at the National Gallery of Art. It was superbly done with delicious food (duck, wild pheasant, and vegetable pate; french cheeses with baguettes; truffles galore; and an intense chocolate fondue display), twinkle lights, fountains, and of course Cezanne's masterpieces.

Cezanne is an interesting character. He was often referred to as a recluse and socially awkward. However, I find him intriguing. He was never content and sought solace and solitude in the French countryside.



"Were it not that I am deeply in love with the landscape of my country, I should not be here."




"There are treasures to be taken away from this country, which has not yet found an interpreter worthy of the riches it offers."





He was also more interested in technique than the finished product. He was a perfectionist, and always struggled to "master the means of his artistic expression." I wonder if that is why he left so many paintings unfinished? I also wonder if this is why Joseph Barnes (The Barnes Foundation, Merion, PA) who was a powerful voice for art education bought so many of his paintings?

Yet, his paintings are powerful. Cezanne uses deep colors and rich texture. I especially love the warm orange hues. Imagine living in a manor house that was flanked with ponds, large gardens, a conservatory, vineyards, orchards, and a chestnut-lined avenue...picturesque, inspiring, lovely!

"Art is a harmony that runs parallel with nature."

Patience

"The patience of man, which is right and laudable and worthy of the name of virtue, is understood to be that by which we tolerate evil things with an even mind, that we may not with a mind uneven desert good things, through which we may arrive at better."
- St. Augustine of Hippo

"A saint's life is in the hands of God like a bow and arrow in the hands of an archer. God is aiming at something the saint cannot see, and He stretches and strains, and every now and again the saint says - "I cannot stand any more." God does not heed, He goes on stretching till His purpose is in sight, then He lets fly.

"Shipwreck occurs where there is not that mental poise which comes from being established on the eternal truth that God is holy love. Faith is the heroic effort of your life, you fling yourself in reckless confidence on God... The real meaning of eternal life is a life that can face anything it has to face without wavering.. life becomes one great romance, a glorious opportunity for seeing marvellous things all the time."
-Oswald Chambers

"Behold, the husband man waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain."
-James 5:7

-"And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience"
2 Peter 1:6

We awoke early this morning
as the brilliant sun was stationed at the horizon

It then held on tight to the wisps of the clouds,
came into view, and warmed our faces

A bud, a hop, a chirp
It beckons us outdoors

A morning run, an afternoon ride
A spur of the moment walk

The sun, the sun
It unleashes the heart, moves the spirit,
and casts light into the darkness

Eery Weather

It was an eery morning here in DC. Windy, sunny, cloudy, patches of rain. And then, for ten seconds, it sleated. Or was that snow? Now the sun is coming out, shining and sparkling through the office buildings, and the temperature is rising. What time of year is it again?

Last night it was warm, around 50 degrees. We even turned on the air conditioner.

But, I wanted it to be cold, bitter cold. I wanted to curl up by a fire, sip hot chocolate, and read a book. I wanted it to snow and for us to be stranded inside. My sister called from Massachusetts the other morning, school had been cancelled due to a massive snow storm. No snow here, just warm weather in the middle of January!

This weather is somewhat unnerving. Too hot for stews and soups, but not warm enough for salads and fruit. Tim and I are not sure if we are to clean off our porch furniture, or hunker down for a big snowstorm. As Longfellow suggests, it is a restless feeling at the end of the day, not a fervent summer's eve or a tranquil winter's night.

The Day Is Done
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

I have been thinking a lot lately about art, and our ability to create. The knitting swatch above is neither perfect or even beautiful, but it is art. In Walking on Water, Madeleine L'Engle wrote, "The discipline of creation, be it to paint, compose, write, is an effort towards wholeness."

We all seek roundness, wholeness, completeness. From a very young age we are encouraged to be "well-rounded." And we all deep down desire the innocence of imagination.

But L'engle is touching on something deeper. She goes on to say, "...I dreamed that a friend reached into a fireplace and drew out a living coal and held it in his hand, looking at its radiance, and I wondered at him because he was not burned. I may be that we have lost our ability to hold a blazing coal, to move unfettered through time, to walk on water, because we have been taught that such things have to be earned; we should deserve them; we must be qualified. "

Yet, we have been given a precious gift...a gift to dream, to heal, to re-create.

"Creativity opens us to revelation, and when our high creativity is lowered to 2 percent, so is our capacity to see angels, to walk on water, to talk with unicorns."

Artichokes

It is no secret that I love food. But what I have come to find out, is that I love cooking as well. And, I love reading about cooking. I thoroughly enjoyed Under the Tuscan Sun, Bella Tuscany, and Julie and Julia. And I recently bought Tender at the Bone...and I cannot wait to read it.

The challenge, completing the task at hand, the comfort, not thinking about anything else in the world except for when to turn the fish, the ease: all these things I love about cooking. Food is intriguing and each vegetable or spice plays a part in what becomes a wonderful meal.

I love artichokes. Isn't is weird that we can eat something that looks so strange? And who was the first person to eat an artichoke heart and determine that it was sweet? Did they get the little hairs caught in their teeth the first time the sunk into the heart?

The best artichoke I ever had was from a road-side stand on the highway from San Fran. to Carmel, California. I was on my honeymoon, and we were making our way down the California coast, stopping at gorgeous lookouts and farm stands along the way. It must have been artichoke season (or maybe it always is there) because these artichokes were luscious and grand, and delicious! We steamed them with some mayonaisse on the side. Delightful!



The ones I made the other night were not quite as good, or tender and sweet, but they still do the trick and remind me of that wonderful dinner in California. Maybe that is why I love cooking and food so much. Because a meal, or a taste, can easily rekindle a memory, or make a new one.

Knitting, not what it used to be.

Well it is official. I now own a pair of knitting needles. Actually, they are more like smooth pieces of wood, but that is besides the point.

I got up the nerve to walk into Stitch DC on Sunday afternoon, just as the store was closing. It is one of those stores where I always felt you needed to look a certain way, dress a certain way, or they will send you on your way because you just aren't "knitting material."

But knitting has changed, and knitters have changed as well. You no longer need the rocking chair and frock to go along with the wad of yarn by your side. As I creaked open the door, I looked around. The other shoppers in the store were hip and wore leather jackets instead of long cumbersome skirts. And the store was, well, cool. The yarn is displayed in modern blocks. There are chairs and sofas lining the walls from West Elm, Ikea, and Design within Reach.

This made me more confident as I walked through the door in my Sevens jeans and cute tight Nike top. I approached the cashier, "Umm...I'd like to knit a blanket. A really soft one, like for a baby." The cashier, instead of laughing in my face, cocked her head to the side and with a faint smile replied, "How about a scarf?" I took this as I should, agreed with her (who was I to question?), and told her I didn't have anything to knit with. She then led me to the back of the store where she picked out a book, needles, and yarn...gently placing each one in my hands as she glided throughout the store.

And just like that I became a knitter. Well, not exactly just like that. After paying she kindly sat me down on the modern hip sofa (where I assume they take all girls like me who want to be cool and knit but have no clue where to start) and showed me how to caste and knit. I was told to practice over and over, count my rows, and make a 21 by 21 block.

This I have yet to do, even after taking the needles home and sitting on my not so cool sofa at home while watching football. I wasn't really watching football, but in order for my husband to enjoy watching football I need to sit next to him and pretend I am watching football, while having some tasty beverage in my hand. I think it must be something about the communal aspect of football; one cannot enjoy a game by himself. Yet, whether it was my husband constantly tapping me on the shoulder and pointing to the tv exclaiming, "Did you see that? Wow, what a great play," Or "That is the worst call ever," Or the tasty beverage in my hand, I have not been able to finish a 21 by 21 practice swatch.

Still only being two days out from purchasing all my new knitting tools (and placing them in my cute Vera Bradley bag) I am not that worried about my prospects of knitting a 21 by 21 swatch. However, I am having a hard time staying focused on the task at hand. I still want to knit a blanket, not a scarf or even a 21 by 21 square block. A blanket is what I would like to knit. But, since running can be applied to most everything in my life, I remember that we should set our eyes on short distances, and accomplish those before we run our first marathon. So...this week I am determined to knit my 21 by 21 square swatch and become a new hip knitter.

"Will the future ever arrive?...Should

we continue to look upwards? Is the

light we can see in the sky one of those

which will presently be extinguished?

The Ideal is terrifying, to behold, lost

as it is in the depths, small, isolated,

a pin-point, brilliant but threatened

on all sides, by the dark forces that

surround it; nevertheless, no more

in danger than a star in the jaws of the

clouds."

Victor Hugo

Tim and I saw Les Miserables last night at the National Theatre. The performance was absolutely extroidonary...a wonderful story of sacrifice, love, forgiveness and mercy.

New Years Weekend

 

Workout update: A Week of Running and Swimming

"For me, running is a lifestyle and an art. IÂ’m far more interested in the magic of it than the mechanics."
Lorraine Moller, Olympic Marathoner

This week I totaled 21 miles running, 5 miles walking, and was able to swim twice. It was great to be able to run outside in the mild weather that blanketed Pennsylvania this week. Also, to get in a pool and stretch my muscles and swim was incredible. I am not training for anything in particular right now, but I am lining up my races for next year: the Cherry Blossom Ten-Miler, maybe the St. Patricks Day 10k, and hopefully a sprint triatholon this summer.

Today, Cynda and I ran the 6 miler loop of Peace Valley Park in Doylestown, PA. The path dipped up and down weaving in and out of woods along a man-made lake. We got the run in right before the rain started.

I know I have mentioned this before, but running, walking, swimming, or any type of exercise is a great release for me...moments of contemplation, of pushing your body, of seeing results...and a path to better mental health. The ability to get out and experience this every day this week was in a way very "magical."

Wishing everyone a festive and safe night!