Birches

If you were a birch tree today (IF YOU WERE A BIRCH TREE???), you might want someone to write and revel in your good looks. I am providing that service. A grove of young birches could never look more fetching than in the late morning light of an April day. Not surprisingly, in this summer-like weather, the birches I saw today were absolutely stunning.

Dinner

Last night two very wonderful people came to dinner. As is my custom, I identify no one outside the blogger community by name here and so they shall remain anonymous. Call them A & Z if you want.

In my mind, they were the perfect guests. I couldn’t quite put my finger on any one reason and so I floated a list in my head of what was especially congenial about the evening. I came up with the following:

1. They brought flowers. The custom of flower-giving is something that hasn’t quite caught on here. I don’t know why. Flowers are a lasting (at least for several days) source of pleasure. They move the evening beyond the meal itself. They are uplifting. They are cheerful, colorful, they speak of spring and summer days, and you can never have too many in the house.

2. They accepted a second helping graciously. We are talking about thin, food-conscious people here who probably would eat half the amount were they home. But they were thoughtful of my preparations and they extended themselves in this way for my benefit.

3. They noticed my salt shaker. I love my salt shaker – it is a work of art. Most people never pay much attention to it because it holds the substance of evil – salt – an anathema to the dieting public. (I’m not thinking of those with medical necessity on their side; I am thinking of the common joe or jane out there.) But salt, in small doses, is a flavor enhancer. Eliminate canned, processed foods and you will eliminate the need to monitor the salt you sprinkle on your main dish or put into the cake (to enhance the intensity of chocolate, you need salt). But even when a diner picks up the offending container, the vessel itself goes unnoticed. A shame.

4. They tried everything that was offered. Cooking these days for others is a minefield of tastes, diets, statements, inclinations. People are off the deep end with their preferences. It makes me think back to winter months in Poland some thirty years back when one was SO GRATEFUL for any food variety at all. I did not understand the concept of food preferences until I moved here.

5. They politely asked for the site of this blog. I need say no more.

Revenge

Depending on whom you ask, cyclists around town are either a supreme menace, or are menaced by the world of cars. Cross, say, University Avenue on a green pedestrian light, and inevitably you will be grazed by the manic rider who is determined to weave around every obstacle in sight, including you, at breakneck speed. Conversely, ride a bike on one of the streets where there aren’t bike lanes and you will understand what it means to have a brush with death as cars mistakenly calculate that they CAN pass you while sharing the same lane.

Perhaps we have reached a time where bikers, walkers and motorists simply cannot coexist. It’s a tense world out there: gentility is gone, the pressure to get where you need to be mounts, and there you are, glaring at the obstacle that is impeding your progress and making life difficult.

I am assuming that was the mood of the moment in England, where a cyclist had experienced one too many road incidents where he was done in by a motorist. This time a car had passed him in total oblivion to the road issues they both faced: puddles, in the very real British definition of puddles: big oceans of water on the road. The cyclist got drenched as the car whizzed by.

Fury took hold and planted the ugly seed of revenge. Over the next ten days, the cyclist slashed the tires of some 2000 cars.

The NYTimes notes today that he got a hefty jail term for his act of violence. Deservedly so. Still, one can sympathize just a bit. Cars are merciless to cyclists. But then, cyclists are merciless to pedestrians. I have to admit that when a cyclist darts in front of me when I cross a street, I have been known to ‘tap’ his (it’s almost always a guy) tail end with my bag, just as a reminder that my pedestrian rights have been egregiously violated. A form of revenge, I suppose. At least I leave the tires alone at the bike racks.

[to interject a note of lightness into the tense story, I have included a Guinness Book of Records photo of a man cycling backwards while playing the violin]

Spring Update

(it’s not all about plants you know)

If you were to look outside right now, directly into the morning sun, you would see the rays working their way through branches glittering with the wetness of last night’s rain. It is such a beautiful sight that it deserves a post of its own.

[photo credit: scottwork.com]