Spring Brings the Cicadas

cicadas, Uncategorized,

Our neighborhood is abuzz, but it’s not from human gossip. It’s from our once-in-seventeeen- years visitors, the cicadas. Yes, they started emerging in earnest after it stopped dipping down into the 40s at night and then, like it usually does in the Washington, DC area, shot instantly into the 90s.

They are dubbed “Brood X” which makes them sound to me sort of like characters in a sci-fy/ noir movie mash-up. Our colleague Jim has written an article for our work web site about why the X, and also many other aspects of cicada folklore and folklife, which is a good read.

While our own backyard doesn’t have nearly the numbers some do, there is still this constant, undulating “zizz-zizz” in the background when you venture outside, and scores (if not billions) of dopey or dead specimens hanging out. Here’s what they look and sound like:

It’s not really that big a nuisance, and actually it’s pretty cool. And, as a result, you too can become a Citizen Scientist by downloading the app “Cicada Safari” and uploading your photos, which get added to a map.

They’ll be gone before we know it. So, we might as well make the most of them. But I will not be trying any in recipes, which we knew were bound to be on offer, right?

Living the Hybrid Life

hybrid life,

As more people get “vaxxed” (that’s a verb now), we are slowly emerging out of our mostly virtual lives and into real experiences. My husband and I have even – gasp! – gone out to dine indoors at a couple of restaurants. But, certain pandemic-era practices seem here to stay. And, I fear, we are stuck with such terms as “hybrid” and “pivot.”

Is that all bad, though? I think not. Along with the part about getting outside more, the part about connecting via Zoom, Teams, or Google Hangouts can be wearisome but it can also create some opportunities that would never have happened if we had to rely on finding the time and means to get together in person.

Whether conveniently connecting with an old friend who lives across town (but still we hadn’t spoken in years), gathering some far-flung women friends for cooking sessions, or sharing the work of some colleagues half-way around the world with an Arlington-based classroom, the technology is amazing and some heart-felt connections can be made despite the coldness of the medium and the weirdness of being a face in a frame. (And also watching yourself all the time which is just plain weird.)

Let us continue to embrace virtual visiting, while (like the cicadas, which may be the subject of my next blog) also emerge from our figurative underground lairs to greet the world in person.

Here are some images from my recent virtual and in person life:

For the second year, our annual Titanic Party, held more or less around the time the ship sunk and involving eating and watching the movie, was organized virtually by my daughter. This year I won the food competition with my iceberg floating island!
Our cooking group continues to meet periodically. In April we took advantage of spring asparagus and made asparagus galettes. And gabbed of course.
I helped facilitate a program with my friend and fellow India/US Exchange partner, Mamoni Chitrakar, and an Arlington school. They have really upped their virtual game in Naya Village, West Bengal, and it was so great to see her and her daughter!
Mother’s Day virtual movie night with my kid. We watched “Eat, Drink, Man, Woman” so many snacks were necessary to have on hand.
In the category of real experiences, my husband and I visited the Franciscan Monastery grounds and garden in DC. Lovely on a spring day.
Saint Anne put out the welcome mat for us. Nice of her!

Fort Ward Wander

Alexandria, Northern Virginia, travel, ,

Well, we got through winter (though it tried to come back last week), and now it’s time for more outdoor adventures. In the category of “get to know your NoVa,” my husband and I visited Fort Ward Park in Alexandria last week. This is a fairly large park which meanders around a neighborhood off of Braddock Road.

What is this park all about? We wondered that even as we started wandering around it more of less aimlessly. We parked in the first parking lot we saw, which is near the (currently closed) museum. The first signs we saw were interpretations of the African American community that had been located there right after the Civil War. These are newer signs, and a pretty good interpretation. (In the brochure you can read in this link there’s a nice group of “first-person memories” of the community, which as a folklorist I appreciate.) Does anyone other than me find it somewhat ironic that this community was displaced by the establishment of this very park, making it necessary for the city of Alexandria to interpret the history of the community that WAS there until the 1950s?

A large part of the park is actually an interpretation of the Civil War era fort, “a bastion of freedom,” which is partially reconstructed. Like most Civil War forts that were built surrounding Washington, DC, this fort never saw any action. But it was ready for action, with big guns at the ready, underground stocks of ammunition, and rifle trenches. Which you can clamber around, as long as you stay on designated paths. (But, no sunbathing as per signage.)

There are also lots of nice trees (at least one of them with a name as per below), an impressive gate, and a number of benches and picnic tables, and some adjacent tennis courts and open spaces where games could be played (though not in the “historic” portions). Still, the whole site has an air of not being sure exactly what its purpose is. Recreation site? Civil War interpretation site? Or site to learn about the community that used to be there but got moved because this somewhat schizophrenic but pleasant enough space was constructed/reconstructed?

If an actual battle had been fought here, I would have felt more inclined to be in awe of the battlements and artillery. It would feel more like “sacred ground” which one should think deeply about (see my Gettysburg ruminations). But, to me, it seemed like they could have really let the African American community stay there and continue to grow and prosper.

Here are some scenes from the Fort:

This slightly sad looking cannon thing did not make it to the main interpretation of the fort but was lurking behind some outbuildings on the edge of the park.
A big gun awaiting action that never happened.
The signage about the fort could do with a bit of sprucing up. We appreciated this sign as we had just needed to recall the word “parapet” to complete a NYT crossword puzzle. I am anxiously awaiting the use of “scarp” and “abatis” in future puzzles.
One would assume this means only the immediate historic area around the restored part of the fort. Because there are picnic tables and inviting open fields for games nearby. Sunbathing, though, is something entirely different, no?
The signage interpreting the African American sites is newer and well done. Despite this being interpreted as a cemetery, there are no evidences of graves here, but it is appreciated that they identified the site of a graveyard and have it roped off, at least.
This quote is kind of poetic but – um – more than just a bit condescending?
We could find no explanation of why this tree was named “The Beatley Tree.” If anyone finds out, let us know.

(Musing) On the Rocks

memories, rocks,

In lieu of having anything even vaguely exciting to blog about lately, I decided to riff on some rocks. This came to mind when my husband and I took at walk around a Falls Church neighborhood one afternoon this week and noticed more than one group of painted rocks. This seems to have become a pandemic pastime far and wide, which even my 95-year old mother expressed interest in trying recently.

This made me think about rocks in general, and the many rocks that I may have encountered in the past year or so. So, naturally, I went to my Google photos and searched “rocks” to see what the algorithm would come up with. Mostly this involved photos of rocks in parks in Pennsylvania, where we spend a lot of time this past year. Pennsylvania, as I have mused in this blog in the past, is full of rocks.

Among the photos on rock themes, however, a few popped up that really reminded me of the sense of loss of the past one year+, some of it having to do with the pandemic, but some of it having to do with some dear friends we lost this year to non-pandemic illnesses.

And so, I offer a small photo essay on rocks, loss, remembrance, and hope for a better rest of the year and years to come.

Easter themed rock garden in Falls Church invites people to take/add a rock (or shell?). Painted rocks are popping up all over the Northern Virginia suburban landscape.
Another group of painted rocks at a local park. Not so curated but fitting for the setting!
When one has a lot of rocks in one’s garden they must be put to good use. There’s never a dearth of rocks to hold down garden cloth in our Pennsylvania garden. This is the start of last year’s garden. The tomatoes did well but those brussell sprouts never thrived I fear.
Travel with buddies was a big loss this year. Arlene and I missed out on a lot of ginseng fieldwork and its associated adventures in the Appalachian mountains, such as this one in the Great Smokey Mountain National Park in summer 2019.
I was most saddened by this photo of Steve and our friend Tarik, who passed away suddenly this past year. As a prelude to our trip to Mexico, we visited with him and his family in the L.A. area, including with his daughter Madeeha who lived with us while interning at the Smithsonian. Our families have become fast friends and Tarik’s loss was a real blow for everyone who knew him.
I like the idea of being commemorated “on the rocks.” I have no idea who this gentleman was but the location of the plaque is near our cabin in PA at The Pulpit, where hang gliders and parasails launch in good weather.
Rock graffiti on the banks of the mighty Potomac, below Chain Bridge. Nuff said.

Cold Comfort

poetry, refrigerator art, refrigerator art, ,

Since we haven’t been traveling anywhere interesting, or really doing much of anything new and exciting, I have resorted to turning inward for new blog material. Today’s blog, therefore, is all about what our refrigerator in Pennsylvania is sporting these days.

Some of the stuff on the fridge has been there for years, such as the recipe for crepes, and some of the magnets. When our daughter and her friends go up for their annual New Year’s Eve celebration, new items often appear. The ample poetry magnets (two sets, merged) make for an ever-shifting literary experience.

When we visited last week, we hadn’t been there since December. The new items included a blue paper snowflake and the drawing of two cats in cowboy outfits roasting some mice on sticks over a campfire. (Sorry, mice fans.)

What’s on your fridge? Chances are it is full of wild and wonderful magnets, stickers, and works of art. If it isn’t, I’m not sure we can be friends.

This was one of many art snowflakes produced by the snowbound over New Years.
Artwork by Steve during a Pictionary type game.
This is real artwork by our daughters friend Annie. Though not sure what is going on with that one cat and the happy looking roasted mouse. Annie, can you explain?
One of the sets of poetry magnets was a successful bid at a Public Sector Section Auction at our annual American Folklore Society meetings. They are Cowboy Poetry magnets.
Crepe recipe. No instructions necessary for us, but if you want to try it: Mix it together, let it set for a little while, mix again, and then pour a little into a flat-bottomed frying pan and swirl around to make it thin and pancake-sized. Cook till light brown on either side. Serve with whatever you like in your crepes such as fruit, cheese, sauted vegetables, etc.

Piecing Together

#collage, , ,

I have already reported on my foray into collaging, which I can thank my good friend Martha for. But the practice merits an update and highlight. Indeed, in these times of uncertainty and limited activities, an almost-every-week Sunday evening collaging session with Martha has become a constant, and I’m loving it.

Some articles I have seen extoll the virtues of the “meditative power of collaging,” during which you lock yourself in a secluded and quiet room somewhere, freeing your mind of all else and becoming the art, or something like that. The heck with that. During our collaging sessions, via Skype, Martha and I work on our projects while we chat, gossip, update, complain, and laugh, all the while working away at our latest creations. Sometimes we consult each other on what our respective art works might still need to elevate them from good to great, and usually at the end we have a “big reveal” of what we’ve accomplished.

She’s more into creating larger, wall-worthy artwork. Being ever so practical, and knowing I’d never get around to adorning my walls with my creations, I’ve been making cards for friends and family. I have not kept any of these, but I take a photo of them each week for the record.

I don’t pretend that they are Picassos, or harbor any idea of starting my own Etsy shop. It’s just fun, a great way to stay connected to a smart, creative and endearingly quirky friend, and hopefully bring a smile to the recipients. I highly recommend “putting the pieces” together in this otherwise largely fragmented time.

Here are snaps of my January/February creations. FYI, the featured image collage at the top of this page is supposed to be Aeolus, god of the wind, which would take a whole new blog to explain. May he blow in some positive energy for us all!

Crazy quilt.
Lunar New Year card using some leftover holiday paper.
Agave plants inspired by our trip to Mexico last February.
Not quite anatomically correct but still happy looking blue crab.

Peaceful Paddling

#palmettodunes, travel,

January seems like a dream now, one where I was paddling serenely through the placid waterways of the Palmetto Dunes home/condo/golf course/hotel/tennis court/etc complex. [NOTE: They call these “plantations” down there. Nuff said.]

I discovered that for a not too bad price, one can join the “kayak club” at Palmetto Dunes outfitting store/rental area and get unlimited access to kayaks whenever one wishes for a whole calendar year. So you know, frugal person I am, I had to challenge myself to get out there as often as possible.

My goal was to hit all 11 miles of water trails in the “lagoon system,” and I am somewhat proud to say I reached the goal, even did a couple of parts more than once in my seven trips out. In case you are picturing a tropical paradise, it was somewhere between the high 40s and low 60s most of the days I was out there, but you work up some warmth paddling and if the wind is not hitting you face-on, it’s not so bad.

Kayaking around Palmetto Dunes is interesting as a lot of the views are of the waterfront “back yards” of some very swanky homes and golf courses that come right to the water’s edge. Still, there are also a few wilder areas with just trees (lots of pines and live oaks with overhanging Spanish moss), and plenty of birds: the ducks and cormorants who fly straight at you and then veer away at the last minute; the pelicans who dive beak-first at great speed; the herons who stalk the shores waiting for that unsuspecting prey; the ospreys who swoop gracefully overhead, sometimes carrying a big fish in their beaks. No gators or other wildlife in evidence this time of year.

The air is fresh and pine scented and when you get away from the roads and the sounds of construction (seemed like a lot of roof repairs going on for one thing), you hear only the swish of your own paddles slicing through the water. I rarely saw any other paddlers, even though lots of those waterfront houses had kayaks piled up near their docks.

Those folks don’t know what they’re missing.

This is one of the highest end “single family homes” in Palmetto Dunes I encountered on my paddles. Though a lot of times these get rented out for destination weddings and stuff I think.
Yeah, good advice. Though I think the gators kind of hibernate in the winter.
Shot off the bow. It wasn’t always this calm, I was fighting a chilly wind on some occasions. But the effort keeps you warm!

Spanish moss and pink camelias decorate a flanking a large stone cross plot in Savannah'd Bonaventure Cemetery.

Bonaventure Adventure

Uncategorized

Historic cemetery as tourism destination sounds kind of morbid, but in the case of Savannah’s Bonaventure Cemetery, it’s really a treat. A couple of weeks ago, during our month long stay in South Carolina’s Low Country, my husband and I set off on a cool but sunny day to wander the substantial grounds of this final resting place, made somewhat famous by its mention in the John Berendt book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

While it’s the home of the remains of some famous people, including popular composer Johnny Mercer and writer Conrad Aiken, there are many other things worth exploring here. These ranged from an area honoring railroad workers, to the origin of the Vulcan “live long and prosper” hand sign (extra research was needed to interpret this and other things, such as the “Cosmos Mariner – Destination Unknown” epitaph in the Aiken plot). The cemetery is situated on the edge of a scenic bluff overlooking the Wilmington River so you get some glimpses of nature in there, too. I’m sure one of the guided tours that staff and volunteers give (which have been somewhat curtailed by COVID) would be beneficial, but we found blundering around with the free map available at the office an interesting challenge.

Here are some highlights. Enjoy the snaps and visit if you are ever in Savannah!

Entrance to the cemetery. Turn right from here to get to the parking lot, if you keep going left you end up in a totally different cemetery.
The cemetery has a large Jewish component and a Holocaust Memorial. My friend Arlene explained that stones are left on graves to basically say, “I was here and honored your grave.” Many graves had at least a handful of stones of various shapes and sizes.
See link for above for an article explaining how Leonard Nimoy borrowed from his Jewish heritage to create the Vulcan greeting. I never knew this before noticing this on one of the Bonaventure gravestones. Did you?
A view of the Wilmington River flanking this huge impressive memorial.
Lots of angels here. This one was sort of creepy but the carving is amazing.
Is this a memorial to the Order of Railway Conductors or just their guests??
A list of some of Johnny Mercers most famous tunes is carved into this bench in his family plot. Try to get some of these out of your head after remembering how they go!
Elaborately carved stones are all well and good, but…Flip-flops and pink flamingoes, now that’s my kind of memorial.

Ocean Iconography

ocean, ,

Our month in coastal South Carolina is flying by, and I’m trying to make the most of it. Even though I’d rather stay snuggled in bed, I get up early (almost) every morning and take a walk to the ocean. It’s only ten minutes away and usually worth it.

It’s a familiar route, since we’re renting in the same condo development my mom used to live in after she retired in her early 60s and moved down here from Vermont. For over thirty years I’ve taken this walk to the beach when visiting down here, either alone or with someone. Towing my daughter, when she was small, in a Radio Flyer red wagon with the beach stuff. Later using it as a good excuse to get some exercise.

This week, walks to the ocean have been almost mandatory. Because for me, the seaside is a meditative place, the ocean a symbol of change and continuity. Its inexorable wave upon wave reminds us of the march of time and the constant restructuring of life. Each day is rewritten on the sand with water and wind.

The ocean also ties us to the rest of the world. It’s a bit mind-blowing to think that on the other side, thousands of miles away from the Carolina coast, is (apparently, because we looked it up) North Africa. And to think of how this very ocean, for better or worse, in triumph or sorrow, brought peoples from many lands to the shores of America throughout history.

As we brace for what comes next, after a week that brought first hope then disbelief, the ocean is always there, and I will rise from my warm bed to follow its call, gaze upon its ever shifting waters, and ponder.

I have a hard time making it just at sunrise but a few clouds help extend the illusion of getting there on time..
Ever changing patterns in the sand fascinate me.
Here’s a hopeful photo for an uncertain time – a lovely little beach wedding.

Holiday Eating Adventures

food, Holidays

These days, celebrating is strange but necessary. Since our daughter and her partner Dan came home for the holidays to join our “pod” I figured we should engage not in only our own holiday food traditions, such as making and decorating (very specific) cookies, but try out some others as well.

We had “virtual” help, thank goodness. Our friend Arlene walked us through latke making via video chat (her article on the subject is a classic and includes the recipe we used). We gathered all the ingredients and accompaniments (apple sauce, sour cream and cinnamon sugar), debated about how to get as much liquid as possible out of the potato mixture, and had a grand time splattering oil all over the stovetop during the frying process. The result were delicious, crispy creations that didn’t last long around our house.

So, why not try our hand at tamales, as well? We got tamale making advice from a number of sources, including my intern Jennifer, one of my daughter’s friends, and some You Tube videos. (There’s also this article by Laura Wilmot Sheehy which I forgot about until we were done!) Our results probably would make experienced tamale makers laugh – inconsistant sizes, fillings spilling out into from their masa dough – but they tasted pretty darned good to us. Especially with liberal slatherings of homemade green and red salsas using the last of our garden tomatillos and tomatoes.

As a folklorist, I am supposed to be safeguarding against cultural appropriation. There is, I am well aware, a fine line between cultural appreciation and appropriation. I’d like to think we didn’t cross that line by trying out some other celebratory holiday food traditions. We’re not Jewish or Latino. But we enjoy good food and the joy that communal cooking brings, even if this year that means a virtual get-together.

I hope you all have a great holiday, enjoying foods of your own family and culture and maybe trying something new if you feel comfortable doing so. We’re cooking Thai dishes for Christmas dinner, though I won’t bother my Thai-born friend Ang for pointers as she’ll be too busy cooking for her own family. Probably something very American.

Our crispy delicious latkes. Well, just a little burned, too.

Dan and M.E. dig into a latke feast with the trimmings.
Tamale making. Our system of food coloring to mark the types of fillings (pork, chicken, and cheese with or without beans) was semi-successful.
The mis-matched tamales ready for steaming.
We also participated in a virtual cookie baking/decorating party with friends scattered from California to Ireland. That’s me in the top middle row with our decorated spritz cookies..