Springs' Time to Shine

For today, a few select scenes of the early blooms and buds from the lower Hudson Valley region.

Violets and vines and bushes and dandelions.

Sidewalk garland made of dandelion, with a side of wood violet.

Forsythia branch on the front porch.

Hudson Valley Spring, 2014

Forsythia and Magnolia in bloom, Pearl River, NY.

Reel Life: A Sensei's Vampire Senses

In order to become a master of the arts, one must succumb to it wholly and completely. Where there is great love, there can be no half way. Once an art has chosen you, you must follow where it takes you, dedicated to the end. That's the price of great passion; utter devotion, and the sublimation of the self in search of the attainment of mastery. Many a sensei has often said that "in the pursuit of perfection, we attain excellence", and so it goes for the artist in their search. We hone our senses to their human heights, hoping to achieve greatness, and in doing so, we may attain immortality, or what passes for it in our human world, limited as that is by our perceptions.


 
I submit to you for your perusal two such examples of artistry and devotion in cinema, "Jiro Dreams of Sushi" and "Frostbitten": one, the story of a lifelong chef in his noble quest for mastery with his chosen elements through the Art of Sushi, and the other a perfect show about the joys of a well-done horror movie; there's camp, humor, fun, gore, suspense, and irony. Sometimes, there isn't an obvious harmony between the movies I select, but the cognitive dissonance of what appears to be a random selection, that then stitches itself into a matched set before my very eyes, forming connections by what feels to be of its' own will, but is indeed of my making. Everyday magic is the ability of the best human minds to stretch out to reach the edge of it's vast limits through the daily discipline of practice. In doing so, the master vaults way past the average person in abilities, attaining powers of craft that allude the individual incapable of such acts of constancy.  Look, and see.

Mysterious Chow

My first meeting with "Mysterious Chow".

I've walked past the white house on the corner for months now, and until recently, I hadn't noticed the leash wrapped around a tree on the front lawn. At first I thought there might be an abandoned baby's toy on the lawn too, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a brightly-colored doggie chew toy. Huh. I wonder what kind of dog lives here? I hadn't seen one out, ever.

Wow! So pretty! But, so many questions....

And just like that, there it was, one beautifully sunny Spring afternoon when I was walking back from the library: a dog right there on the front lawn. And what a dog! It was a gloriously maned Chow Chow, its' gorgeous long fur lit from behind by the late day sun, streaming regally in the breeze, reminding me afterwards of a Chinese painting about a mythical dragon, or a fanciful lion, the splendid beast of a thousand fables. I was so surprised that I cried out a loud "Oh!" and "Heyyyy!", then proceeded to make kissy sounds and other rude noises at the it, while "Chow" rightly ignored me, only giving away its' peripheral attentions by shifting away from me when I tried to call out to it again, a little further up the hill. A perfect mien and bearing, too! "Chow" was aloof, attentive, aware, cautious, and supervisory. That's the sign of a solid, strong mind in a dog, just what you want as an owner. Hmmm....I wonder if "Chow" is a boy or a girl? What kind of owner does "Chow" have? So many questions....

"I see you. And?" So it went. I'd get a glance, then the brush off.

The next time I saw "Chow", I was determined to make friends so I could get a closer look, maybe find out his or her name by reaching for the cluster of dog tags around its' neck, a gesture that's typically too intimate with a relatively unknown animal. How to proceed? It's a chancy proposition to walk onto a stranger's lawn and just introduce yourself to a dog. Luckily for me, this a daffy, doggy sort of town, (http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/2013/09/dogs-dog-statues.html), so, with a bit of hesitation, I moved in closer; first, by standing by the opening in the fence to the front yard. When the dog seemed OK with that, I walked around the yard a little, talking to it in a soothing, cooing way. Finally, I sat down on the front steps. "Chow" surprised me again by immediately getting up to sniff at me, tail wagging slowly back and forth. Excellent! Friendly, but hesitant and curious. That's real progress with an animal.

Mysterious Chow with "concerned" face and waggly brows. So cute!

"Chow" impressed me further, after inspecting my clothes, bag, and shoes, by backtracking to my first steps around the yard and a bush, to the steps I now sat on, matching my fresh scent on the trail I had just made, to the bottom of my sneaker. Smart! I liked "Chow" even more; that's a very advanced skill for a dog to show. I encouraged it to do so, as it made one last sniff of my sneaker to complete the loop. Very clever, "Chow". For my bravery, I was rewarded with my next clue: I spied a Tennessee Department of Health dog tag around its' neck, the kind that's required for pet vaccinations. Aha! "Chow" was from far away. That could explain its' recent appearance on the front lawn, and the white pickup truck in the driveway, but, was "Chow" a boy or girl? I couldn't tell. That's the thing with furriness. What's "Chow's" name?! I couldn't make kissy sounds and yell out "Chow!" every time we met. I'd have to go deeper, but I decided that was enough for the day. "Chow" had this adorably concerned expression, wrinkling its' brows and turning to look at the door and windows to the owner's apartment, as if to question whether or not to proceed. Circumspect, also a most excellent personality trait.

And also very shy!

The next time we met, I had a brief encounter with the dog, because "Chow" was tracking a fat, old, black and white Welsh Corgi walking (or waddling?) with his/her owner in the park across the street, busily marking its' territory around the yard, as far as the leash would go. That gave me my next clue in the case; "Chow" was probably a boy, but I still didn't know for sure. He (or she?) then did something really interesting. He stood right in front of me, with me standing on the sidewalk below, he above my head on the lawn and, as he barked out loudly to the dog, he peed right in front of me. Wow, "Chow"! He was saying in a very clear way, "Don't mess with her! She's my friend!", then he went into a full-on showy display mode, prancing around proudly in circles, barking and kicking up huge clods of dirt and grass, to spread his Royal Chow scent around. Thanks, "Chow"! What a pal.

Branching out to attend to guard dog duties.

The very next time I walked past the white house, "Chow" was lying down, a bit outside of my view on the sidewalk, beside the stone steps, with a German Shepherd puppy standing over him, barking playfully in his face. Okay, now there's two dogs; an aloof and proud Chow, and the other a possible future attack dog. That's a bit much, even for a hardcore "dog person" like me, which was probably the exact message the transplanted owner intended, what with years and years of New York City based crime dramas implanted into every newcomer's head. And when a young women came out by herself, I knew that was it. She didn't look like she was from these here parts, poor thing. Must be frightening to be an out-of-towner in New York, even in a place as relatively safe and beautiful as Rockland County's bucolic Hudson Valley region. This ain't the South, fo' sho'. She pulled the Shepherd puppy indoors by its' collar, as I stood by the opening in the fence on the side of the yard, deciding what to do. I loved "Chow", who was playing an adorable game of hide-and-seek with me behind the stone steps, but I didn't feel comfortable taking liberties with another persons' pet, especially with someone who had clearly not given me an invitation to do so.

"Are you catching this?!"

So, I did what any "nosy" New Yorker would do: when "Chow's" owner came out again to interact with him, I peppered her with a series of rapid-fire, but friendly, questions. Who knew when I would get the chance again? Their appearances were so sporadic and uneven, it could be months before an opportunity presented itself to me again. She was a bit tense, preferring to bite off short one word replies before finally graduating to a complete sentence, under the easy persistence of my obviously good-natured ways, thus bringing an end to my little mystery: "His name is Grizzly." Yeah! Perfect! Well, of course it is! And that's exactly what he is: a shy, sweet, fluffy, big, beautiful Grizzly Bear Dog. Happy hunting, dog lovers! Be safe.

Still, he will always be "Mysterious Chow" to me.

Earth Day, 2014

The first flowering wood violet of spring.

In honor of this year's Earth Day, I'm posting a photo I took of the first wood violet I picked this year; touching in its' petals paper-thin fragility, yet strong enough to survive a winter-like frost, or a dusting of snow. That beautiful paradox about the temporary quality and tragic beauty of all life on our planet is a fitting tribute today, as we celebrate the gifts we have been given in this world. After all, what is could be more perfect than Mother Nature? Enjoy the day.

Spring Snow

Overnight accumulation in the morning. Surprise!

Nature runs a bit wild on the coasts: there's hurricanes, blizzards, and sometimes extremes between warm and cold on the exact same day. We had snow at night recently, which means we woke up to it glinting off cars and sparkling in the sunlight atop freshly budding flowers, like the daffodils and forsythia; a rare but beautiful sight. 

Walking to work one April morning....in the snow.

The noonday sun burns it away quickly in the Springtime, but it leaves you with the uneasy feeling that anything can happen to you at any time, and that's the truth about reality. It's a good reminder for us about what it means to be human, and that means we are still (and always), subject to the laws of nature (despite our progress), laws that operate on a time frame that often comes in conflict with ours. There's a lesson here to be learned somewhere, but I'm sure you'll figure it out.

No? OK. For you "slower students" out there, it's this: 
you can't win in a war against Mother Nature. 
 

Street Signs: Below Poverty Levels

On the other side of the tracks.

Streetscapes

Building in afternoon light.

I've always enjoyed photographing industrial elements like piping and building ducts, so much so that one fellow art student remarked to me on a road trip, "Look, Marie! Trucks! Quick! Take a picture!", pointing derisively out the car window when I raised my lens to photograph a carrier loaded with cars the next lane over. But I love craftsmanship wherever I see it, in any form, and that point of view forms the basis of my design intellectualism to this day. I come from a working class background as many New Yorkers do, and I can't imagine our lives today without the massive industrial projects and undertakings of our forefathers. It's everywhere we look. After all, my great grandfather not only made metal work for bridges and buildings, he was skilled enough to render The Last Supper entirely out of copper, in a framed piece of art that still hangs in my mother's house. 

Fuse box.

You can't manufacture that kind of history and continuity on demand without passion and heart, not even at the best art school in the world; a place where craft still counts, even back when I attended it as a tower made almost entirely out of ivory. Snobbery is always out of date, no matter the era, because the future will always belong to those of us still willing to get our hands dirty, which includes the mistaken idea that using our hands is somehow a base affair. I hope my former classmate, where ever he wound up, somehow managed to rise above his class-based leanings. It couldn't have been easy to be a Van Zandt, no matter how old and privileged his family name is (was).

Stay classy, people 
 

Street Games: Whiskey and Sidewalk Chalk

A bottle of Fireball whiskey....

It's amazing the things you find when you're walking around, paying attention to the details. I regularly take street photos, and afterwards, I'm surprised at what at get, because it's usually more beautiful than I think it is, though occasionally it's the reverse. There's only so many sunset photos one can absorb with fresh eyes. I shoot regularly because I'm trained to, so the compositions and the juxtapositions happen automatically for me, but sometimes associations reveal themselves to me much later, after that quick, five-second pic.

...now turn this way!

In that sense, photography hasn't changed for me at all. Part of the excitement was seeing an image slowly ghost itself onto paper, floating in its' chemical bath, and watching that happen, only truly knowing then what you caught previously on film. Technology doesn't replace what I do, it just prevents me from breathing in the sulfur and selenium of the old, traditional, black and white chemical photography process, and for that, I'm grateful.  

What do you see around you today?

Toys: Having a Ball

The pink ball.

The ubiquitous toy for almost every kid on the planet is some kind 
of ball, of various makes and models. But like an empty playground, there's something sad, lonely, and forlorn about a discarded ball 
that's been tossed away. It's only as good as the child who plays 
with it. Or maybe I was just melancholy that day.  
What takes you back to childhood?

Out of this world.

Keeping In Season with Cabbage and Beets

The Mix.

I've been trying to cook with the seasons when I can, given time, money, and location restraints. That means I follow and use a handy little iPhone app called "Fresh Right Now" (no longer available, so please petition the company that created it to bring it back: http://www.digitaloddities.com/apps/ios/FreshRightNow/), set to tell me what foods are fresh and available in the Northeastern region of United States. It's a more rigorous and responsible to shop, eat, and live. 

Reducing and simmering.

By choosing to stay within those guidelines, several things happen at once. Buying only locally-grown produce has deeper ramifications than you'd think: it's a brief shipping process between the fields and local stores, so it's fresher, needing less chemicals to stay fresh because of that quick turnaround (and staying "green" by using less fossil fuel and pesticides, so there's no leeching into the groundwater), it's American grown, which benefits our farms here, under the scrutiny of our USDA standards, and it pumps money back into the local economy, creating a healthy, small, manageable system that's less dependent on the financial ups and downs of the world at large.

Mellowing into a beautiful, rich, warm red.

Not an easy trick to do, admittedly. It helps that I know how to choose local foods well, and that I cook every day, so I bring a lot of experience to the table. But by picking local foods within season, I feel better physically because the food is fresher and grown with less chemicals, I support my community of farmers, and I get a more well-rounded and balanced diet that changes with every season, which pretty much guarantees that I am always eating a rotating group of fruits and vegetables. By not constantly consuming far away foods laden with hormones, antibiotics, and traces of chemical agents, I get nutrition which, after taste in food, is a big part of the health game.

Shiny, happy, cabbage and beets.

With spring and St. Patrick's Day, our hearts and minds here turn naturally to cooking with cabbage, the winter vegetable staple of so many Northern ethnicities. For sure, I am not a fan of the wilted boiled cabbage of yore, so I updated it with beautiful red beets and a balsamic vinaigrette, braised and reduced in organic coconut oil. It tasted better than any cabbage dish I've ever had, imparting a sweetness and complexity I've yet to discover in that blank canvas of a vegetable, the humble cabbage, now lifted to a side dish worthy of the moist chicken breast sitting next to it on the plate.

Chicken breast with worthy side dish.

Lick the plate clean, and you've made yourself a little piece of happy that was grown right near your home. A worthy goal for any family. What's your next taste adventure?

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Braised-Beets-and-Red-Cabbage-3191.

PS: I made some changes to this recipe, as you should, based on fridge and pantry items. I added honey, skipped the parsley, frying it in a combo of coconut oil and a butter-like product from Olivio that's derived from coconut, in lieu of butter.