Weekly Journal: One thing led to another
Sunday.
More France planning. Making headway. Is it time to go to Provence yet? Stiff backs, hunched over computers finally give way to an afternoon break. We took a walk in Prospect Park. The wind was joyous, light like a kite dancing over a gusty beach. We took a path we had not taken before, and ended up in a small lawn that felt secluded and magical. Tall grasses and low-hanging, leafy tree branches frame the cool blue lake. Geese and ducks glide on the surface, heading toward children throwing bits of their sandwiches in. The breeze blew our hair and we sat under a tree. The scene was something out of a Monet or Van Gogh painting.
A summer subway ride, evening tapas at Cobble Hill’s La Vara, and an early night ready for the week ahead.
Monday.
Feeling regret that I didn’t go outside to look at my roses today. I know they are all about to explode with blooms like fireworks on the 4th.
Today I had a pretty regular day of work, followed by some afternoon crafting and an evening in the kitchen with Andrew cooking up one of our favorites: Chicken and Dumpling soup. It is truly one of the most magical soups in our recipe book—We struggle to leave leftovers for a second night. The scent makes me nostalgic for autumn even though I have absolutely no desire for cooler weather just yet.
Tuesday.
In these Covid times, I work at our dining room table facing a wall of windows. It’s one of the best spots in the house for watching the seasons. I’m trying to soak up every bit of green that I can see. I’ve been seeing the phrase “late summer” tossed around too much lately, and wish people wouldn’t be so reckless with my heart this way.
Finished the organza top. Peplums are challenging to style—I might remove that in the future, but for now, it’s a fun wardrobe addition.
Wednesday.
Mika licks a paw as a black swallowtail butterfly floats past the window—the second one I’ve seen this year. When I saw the first one in my garden a couple weeks ago, my eyes welled up.
Thunder so loud the house shakes. The rain pours in sideways sheets and the trees dance with joy, stretching their branches out to hug the raindrops.
The garden has become somewhat of a bittersweet place for me. Tending to my plants brings me so much happiness, but because it’s located in a shared space, it seems like every visit brings new politics.
The first Bishop’s Children dahlia has opened. These were an unexpected favorite last year that I will never be without.
Thursday.
The garden changed so much in the few days that I didn’t visit it early this week, that I felt like I needed to reintroduce myself. Go slowly. Tend. Tie up the tomatoes. Deadhead roses. Reassure it. It’s definitely very wild now. Gives you a sense of what happens in the absence of people and industry when you leave nature alone. Plants just want to grow.
I already had the wrap dress pattern out from the organza top, and I’ve been wanting a plain black dress, so I decided to cut another. It was a game of pattern piece tetris with my black crinkled rayon. I lost the game, but it’s salvageable. The dress will be a bit shorter than I originally intended.
Friday.
I’ve been giving a lot of thought to community lately and how to build it as an adult. Friends and family are everything. I’m keen to nurture those relationships and build my own. They are the trellis in the garden that is my life. Nothing like chats with family and friends and a couple cocktails to put things right again after a low day. My first trip to TJ Maxx since the pandemic. I bought seven candles—if you know, you know.
Saturday.
An elevator ride later and we’re on top of the world, my love and I—well, the top of the Roc at least. The day is breezy and warm, my dress flutters and floats in the wind. The day unfolds in kisses, art at MoMA, and a pasta dinner al fresco in the West Village. I always forget how much great photography is in MoMA. Two cakes baked—carrot and lemon. Ready for my love’s birthday tomorrow.
