Around Town: Bryant Park

I was in town on business recently (and early, as usual), so I took a walk, choosing to go once around Bryant Park, killing time before my appointment, catching the cheerful site of gardeners doing some early springtime gardening. It's such a great time of year. Enjoy the sites!

The First Day of Spring

Springtime in Stuyvesant Square Park.

Stuyvesant Square Park.

Flowers in bloom, Stuyvesant Square Park.

Clusters of buds like barnacles.

Hello! Welcome to the new season. In celebration, I've put up a series of photos I took in 2013, when I lived (for a brief time) in Stuyvesant Town, a neighborhood in lower Manhattan. It was the first time I'd ever lived in the borough that is officially New York, New York, and as a native New Yorker, I had other surprising (and rare) "firsts", too: I discovered parks, foliage, trees, flowers, plants, and people I hadn't encountered before, as the glorious, gorgeous Spring of last year unfolded before my eyes. Here's to the newness, and yet timelessness, that marks the first signs of Spring. Enjoy!

Nature: Winter Weary

This is that time of the year when we wish the snow and cold would just go away, and indeed it does. Spring comes when we need it the most; when we feel like we simply can't with another snowstorm, and as usual, Mother Nature gets it just right. That pretty pile of snow has turned to a dirty mess, depressing and ugly, like a muttering homeless person on the corner whose public indignities insult the well-shod foot of an Upper East Side matron. 

It's gross, and we want it to disappear. Fortunately, the seasons are much more sensible than people, and like an unwanted guest, sloppy and drunk at a party that's gone on way too long, Winter leaves us with one final gasp of its' icy breath, giving way at last to sun and warmth. We sense the ground moving beneath our feet, and as humans, we respond accordingly to this ancient rite of passage with glad, open arms. See you in the Spring! It's right around the corner.

A classically picturesque winter scene.

Red berries in snow! Charming and Christmas-y.

Sigh...I love winter. So pretty, and it's such a beautiful day today.

Wow! The town looks so good covered in snow.

Great. Now I can't walk on the sidewalks. That leaves me with the road.

Ugh. And now it's filthy, too. Is that dog pee? So gross!

Nasty frozen, dripping ice/dirt cavern blocks the sidewalk. Boo!

Done! I hate everyone and everything. Look at this shit!

At Home: A Bit O' Green

A cheerfully full-bodied plant.

I've been busily putting on the final touches to the studio apartment I moved into. This morning's delivery by the local florist (thank you!) filled the space with lovely (and necessary) greenery. I've written before about the principals of Feng Shui (the ancient Chinese philosophical system of harmonizing the human existence with the surrounding environment), but in the end, despite whatever philosophy or system you use, you have to go with your gut, and what feels right. We now know hard science backs up the health-giving properties of indoor plants, and that's just good, solid common sense. Plants clean the air of toxic chemicals to give off oxygen, the stuff of life for us.

It's not easy designing a space. Along the way, I've discovered quirks with this old house: slanted, deeply warped original hardwood floors, with burn marks from flying embers of long-dead fires that roared on the brutally cold nights of an upstate New York winter, and the occasional dropped cigarette butt from former tenants. It's been lived in a long, long time. The man who delivered my rugs, freshly laundered by their family-run carpet cleaning service, (who I recognized from high school back in the day), told me one of his buddies lived in this studio years ago, and so it is in small towns: we're all connected.

Hello, sunshine! A new plant greets the day.

You can tell that the wealthy farm family who originally built the house knew exactly what they were doing, down to the last detail. The back of the house faces the East, letting in the first light of the day, which woke up the animals in the yard, and also the farm hands, way before alarm clocks and daily commuting existed. Almost every night I see a glorious sunset that dips below the rolling hills of the Hudson Valley, where the big porch has held a chair with a gazing person on it for hundreds of years. And that's what great design is really about. No detail, no matter how small, is left out.

Soon to appear here will be the the final layout of the place, with lots of pretty pics showing "before" and "after". I know the design will change with time from the way I have it now (a new chair or two, moving stuff around), but it'll do for now, and it's finally ready for receiving guests and visitors, while life just keeps rolling on.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Toys: Yeti Freddie

Yeti Freddie and his lovable side.

This software app I use occasionally for E-Blasts sent me a toy because I signed up for a newsletter. Nice! I'm a sometime collector when time, space, and budget align, most notably of the Tim Burton and Simpsons kind.

When I first ran aground from the recession, I set up shop on eBay to sell what I could. I sold a few items and made about $300-$380 total, but given the time it took to take all those digital pictures, tweak them, post them online, create the Internet storefront, manage the customers, print labels, pack them up and ship them off, it was really not worth my time. Oh, well. I didn't have the hunger faints that week!

I don't predict this fella will have great resell value, but I still took care opening the packaging so it would remain in as good as condition as possible. Nerd habits die hard. And now he lives in a cavern created within the bookshelves, a cheerful reminder that the fun hobbies we enjoy somehow always find a way back to us in good times. 

It's an Abominable Snowman situation.

He likes pencils, too.

At Home: Eucalyptus

Sprigs of eucalyptus in the shower.

I'd pinned something onto a Pinterest board months ago, in anticipation of actually using the tip some time in the future, unlike your average Martha Stewart-like devotee who has no intention of working with her hands. No offense ladies, but I'm no voyeur who fantasizes about other people's wealth and leisurely pursuits. I ain't got time for that. Unlike those of that ilk (again, no offense), I actually started making stuff before I was completely aware of it, like so many of us early humans. Unlike the rest of the herd, I splintered off into that specialized camp who actually succeeds in creating regularly, to such an extent that I knew better than to ignore it. I decided to make it my life's work.

To be honest, I have nothing against dreaming housewives. I spend a lot of time at home, and I've always enjoyed my own company and making spaces feel livable and healthy and good, like many, many women have before me. Even as I knew my life would be fuller than most, I cherish the time I have for hobbies, especially those devoted to hearth and home. So when I pin something onto a bulletin board, either of the cork kind or the newfangled  digital version, I really mean it, just like everything else I do.

It's that kind of authenticity that people have come to rely on me for, and I cherish that, too. I respect myself, and my audience. Years ago, my doctor (a very intelligent woman, and here's the full disclosure: all of my health care workers are women. I mean, like, every single one. Another feminine bias of mine;) advised me about the benefits of eucalyptus oil in a humidifier or steaming bath to naturally unclog congestion, just like those oily, thick, petroleum jellies of yore, except this is good for you AND it works.

With that in mind, I took another leap, and I promised myself that the next time I soaked in a hot bath, I'd get some actual branches of it to hang around the shower head, letting nature do the rest. What's great about this new bathing system (in addition to cleaning my sinuses without drugs), is re-using some of the dried leaves in a steamer pot that I have on the radiator. More natural health benefits: the steamer filled with water humidifies my environment, and gives off that beneficial eucalyptus steam. I get some branches of it from the local florist that they have leftover from the week's other arrangements. Thank you, Schweizer Florist!

When I come home hours later, the good, clean smell of it still lingers in the air. That's a tip on the house from me to you, which is way cheaper than a bunch of OTC pills and a doctor's visit. Take care out there, and remember, winter's almost over.

http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/homedecor/

Mad Ghetto Skillz: The Shopping Cart

Front lawn to an apartment building. Why not?

Like sneakers hanging off a power line, the lone shopping cart parked at an odd angle, (like the victim at the scene of a crime), is a sign that you're officially in the 'hood. Not exactly gentrification. What's always baffled me about this convoluted carelessness is that it takes wayyy more energy to push a shopping cart beyond the parking lot, up and down and over bumpy country terrain, than it is to use a relatively cheap and easy hand held cart for shopping and transporting. 

It's snowed and I hate shopping, so I'll block the sidewalk.

It takes a lot of work to be the kind of fuck up who ditches carts wherever the fuck you feel like. It's selfish, lazy, spoiled, and self-entitled, like people who spit on subway tracks or push their used gum under railings. Why?! Because that's the hood rat nature; complicated and contradictory, the core that's at the very essence of chronic dysfunction. If you asked someone who does this routinely, you'll get the typically common shit from them you already knew: they're disabled, their back hurts, they have a big family so they need a lot of groceries, they didn't have a choice, they just HAD TO, blah blah blah and why is it their fault? Well, it may not be (or, this being the hood, it probably is in some fucked way they'll try to cover up), but why is their damage our collective problem? 

"Do not enter"?! Fuck you!

Like any other seemingly random ghetto act, talking in circles to someone caught red-handed will get you nowhere fast, which is at the heart of disordered thinking. So, let me officially lay out some solutions for anyone struggling with courtesy as a concept, as a preemptive strike against incompetence: buy your own utility cart for shopping trips (see above suggestion), only buy what you can safely and comfortably carry (like I do), shop on the Internet and pay a delivery fee (if you can afford it), or have someone go with you (maybe a friend or a neighbor...you know, actually help each other out). 

You're welcome, community.