community

The Edge -- the place I live in now -- attracts renters by creating something akin to a residential community. The on-sight managers entertain ideas on what to sponsor -- there are game nights, movie nights, and of course music nights. I say of course because the owners of the building love music and have made this the theme of the place. Well, at least of the corridors. Here's my floor's wall art. (That's Keith Urban. Not that I would have recognized him -- a New Zealand country singer. I know nothing about country music except that Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton sang it.)

 

 

 

You can tell that some residents are really into this, and some are completely uninterested. I decided tonight to attend this month's music event to see who turns up.

But of course all that comes later. 

*     *     *

I wake up a bit too early, but to splendid golden sunshine.

And breakfast again on the island. 

And then I dig in a bit more into my neighborhood. The other day Snowdrop told me how nice Middleton is (that's the name of the town I now live in). How it's got everything you may need without being overwhelming. Well that's true, but on my side of the highway, it's pretty overwhelming. Apartments, hotels, office buildings, chain restaurants and outlet stores. You get the picture. But here's a surprise: on Thursday mornings, it has a farmers market.  I can walk to it -- a mere ten minutes on foot. 

It's small. Really small. But it has a steady trickle of regular customers. They drive over and then head straight for the one big produce stand (there's one more, but it's small; the rest of the vendors are of the prepared foods and unknown to me breads variety).

That one large produce stand is Natalie's!

We chat. She is one sweet friend! And as a bonus, she still has corn. 

*     *     *

Back in my apartment, I cant help feeling charmed by the sunshine pouring in. Yes, it does make the apartment warm, but in the winter it should be heavenly snug. I go out on the balcony and look at what I thought was a narrow strip of park, but actually it is a "Park," of the kind where you park cars. And after, a few trees and a randomly planted corn field. And after, more office buildings. I like the absence of windows anywhere at all peering at me, but I have to wonder -- what is that empty expansive parking lot? It seems not attached to much of anything.

So I ask at the front desk. Will there be construction there? What's that lot all about? The Edge person responds -- well, there used to be a restaurant there I think. 

Oh yeah?

And then it burned down.

So, are they developing it into something else soon? I mean, it seems prime land...

Well, I guess people think the space is jinxed, so they're not rushing. You know, people are superstitious.  

I suppose at some subliminal level we all are a bit spooked by things we have no business being spooked about (except for Ed, who is not spooked by anything). But to this extent? 

 *     *     *

Ed calls. Listen Gorgeous, I'm in the new orchard and there's golden rod in the meadow. Should I pull it out? 

Damn it Ed, why must you ask this only now, when I am no longer doing these hard tasks? I suppose he'd say -- you never asked. And I'd answer -- you never offered. And there you have it.

 

*     *     * 

In the afternoon I do the school rounds. First Sparrow then Snowdrop, then ice cream for both. Our weekly treat.

Both kids but especially Sparrow are still really upbeat about the Edge. They can't wait until Sunday dinner so that they can introduce the Edge to Sandpiper. At four years, I'm not sure Sandpiper fully understands what a move is. Having space at the farmhouse was important to him. How will he play here? We will see. 

 

*     *     * 

The evening hour (plus) of music is by Bruce Wasserstrom. He's a jazz and blues guy and I like both, but I'm not at all plugged into the local music scene here, being rather isolationist in my music listening habits. Still, today I go down.  

 

Maybe a dozen others are there, some coming and going. The ones that linger are... the older set. Well, okay, I'm older. Let's see who, from this demographic, lives here and why: an older couple -- they have to be at the extreme end. Both in their early eighties. Then there's  Ferdy -- I'd say fifties. Jess -- fifty-ish. But why choose this place? What drew them here? I hear a variety of reasons: lived at a senior housing place, weren't ready for the vibe there. Just came back from living in London because teen age son hated it there. Lived with daughter and her kids and was ready to downsize. 

And still, to me it felt strange to be there. Reminiscent of the year of my divorce when I was determined to meet people and branch out (and then I met Ed and I stopped meeting people and branching out). Two weeks ago I had no interest at all in going anywhere but to the couch after sunset. Here I am, socializing? It felt like I'd been plucked out of my life and placed into someone else's.

On the upside, the people were nice and we made plans to meet up on the rooftop soon to watch the sunset while the weather was warm. I'm sure I will feel exactly the same, but I tell myself -- I'm not going out, I'm staying in-house. And hanging out with interesting people (one runs a construction firm, one does consulting, one used to be a Lutheran minister -- yes, I am bold enough to ask these things) is never a bad thing, right?

 

*     *     * 

Late evening. Did you know there is a bird migration alert? The Midwest is experiencing the highest levels of bird movement this week. 842 million birds were in flight last night over this part of the country. They say to turn out lights at night, as our night luminescence confuses them and kills not a small number. Today through Sunday, turn off those lights!

with lots of love...