Weekend Snapshots 2

May 6, 2013

FRIDAY

The SPCA. Helping Hands, the elementary school service group I co-lead, took a field trip to our local SPCA. Miraculously, we left with no more and no fewer than the bodies we came with, though one of our second graders piped up at the end to announce that he had money in his pocket and was ready to make a deal…

“Price of admission” – an item from the SPCA wish list.

SATURDAY

Soccer Games. My girl kept a clean sheet as goalie in the first half, and then scored the only goal for the win in the second!

Fundraising. My son’s Destination Imagination team is going to Globals along with another winning team from his elementary school. Between my daughter’s and his own soccer games, we worked at a huge yard sale both teams held in the school gym to help offset the considerable cost of the trip. My daughter was wandering around the yard sale when she spotted something on one of the tables.

“Is that my jack-in-the-box?” she gasped in horror.

I squirmed as I said, “Ummm, well, yes, but that’s a toy for babies.”

I told her we would take it back if it didn’t sell, and fortunately, it is now back in our house, where it belongs. For the rest of the weekend she kept pointedly reminding me about how my sister had asked me for a pair of her baby sandals that had the perfect imprints of her tiny little feet and was furious when she found out I had thrown them away.

“My beloved Janel” surprised us by sending a check to help with the fundraising. We haven’t been able to see each other in way too long. We had a phone conversation to hatch a plan to fix this!

Gardening. I made the rounds of some local garden centers and got my fingernails dirty in my own garden…

SUNDAY

Theological Debate. My oldest son and I had a hasty and somewhat tortured discussion in which we weighed the merits of atheism vs. agnosticism and discussed the importance of being reflective, keeping an open mind, and always asking questions. All this in the church parking lot, minutes before Sunday School was about to start, as I fervently prayed that he would stop asking questions for Christ’s sake! I broke into a sweat as I surreptitiously snuck glances at the clock, and mentally calculated how much time it would take to cut up the paper strips we would need for the purple “cloth weaving” we were going to do as part of the lesson I’d prepared on Lydia opening her heart to Jesus.

Wrestling. Back at home, having just partaken in Holy Communion, where they symbolically sought “reconciliation in every instance of conflict or division,” the boys decided to have a wrestling match. As always, it ended up in tears and bitter recriminations. For the next half hour, I made them practice for their piano recital, but Beethoven’s Rage Over a Lost Penny, kept derailing into Rage Over a Lost Wrestling Match. Finally, I was forced to bellow, “STOP TALKING TO EACH OTHER! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SPEAK TO EACH OTHER AT ALL! NOT. ONE. MORE. WORD!!”

Piano Recital. My husband headed off to Lynchburg for his own concert with his singing group. The rest of us dusted ourselves off and staggered to the boys’ last piano recital of the year…Rather than run the risk of more bickering, I made the oldest sit up front with me during the ride, instead of in his usual spot in the back of the minivan with his siblings. En route, he and I devised a post-recital game plan.

Obligatory Photo Op. As you can see, the boys worked it out, as they always eventually do.

The kids took turns taking pictures of their own.

Then they took a series of “artsy shots” and insisted I post them on the blog today. There you go, kids:

Not bad at all!

Dick’s Sporting Goods. After the photo session I announced that it was time to go to Dick’s Sporting Goods.

“Why are we going there?” my younger son asked.

His brother and I answered him simultaneously:

N: “To buy a punching bag.”

Me: “To save your relationship with your brother.”

When I went to check on the boys tonight, I realized that N. had set up a makeshift bed for himself on the floor of T’s bedroom. Peace in the valley. I’m heading to bed.

Junks I Collect No. 7: Japanese Maples

Apr 23, 2013

Japanese Maples (Acer Palmatum) are beautiful in all four seasons. With their many variations in size, shape, color, and texture, they can be arranged as you would flowers in the garden. The leaves can look like little stars or hands (hence the name “Palmatum”); others with more deeply dissected leaves can have a more thread-like appearance. The tiniest leaves are as small as a thumbnail. One of the greatest pleasures of having Japanese Maples is watching the leaves change color with the seasons. They come in a wide spectrum of greens, reds, dazzling fuchsias, glowing oranges, yellows, purples, and almost black. There are some fascinating leaf color variations like the Lily Pulitzer green and pink combination that you see in Higasayama. My favorite combination is green edged with a deep, moody purple. Sometimes the most striking color comes not from the leaves, but from the branches themselves. Sango Kaku and Beni Kawa, for example, have brilliant crimson branches. The most beautiful color can even come from the seeds. I once witnessed the breathtaking vision of a Japanese Maple hung all over with seedlings that looked like ruby red ballet slippers glowing in the sun. In the winter, when the trees finally lose their leaves, the structure of their elegant architectural branches is revealed.

I only have a couple Japanese Maples planted out in the garden. Most of them are in heavy blue ceramic pots that withstand freezing temperatures year after year. Mature Japanese Maples are fairly expensive plants to buy, but you can find them as bonsai starters for reasonable prices. (Check ebay)!

This weekend, my Head Assistant Gardener, aka my daughter and I embarked upon a mission to repot this Beni Otake Japanese Maple:

Step 1 – cover hole at bottom of pot with coffee filter to prevent soil from washing away

Step 2 – Have able assistant add soil to bottom

Step 3 – Transplant tree, then add pebbles and sempervivum (hens and chicks) to the base

Step 4 – Pose trees for a family photo. Say “cheese”!

I grow: Red Dragon, Higasayama, Beni Kawa, Orange Dream, Wou Nishiki, Shindeshojo, Beni Otake, Hanami Nishiki, Murasaki Kiyohime, and Chishio Improved.

I’ve tried and failed to grow Beni Maiko a couple times. I want to try again, because it’s a beautiful tree, but mostly because I love its name: “Red-Haired Dancing Girl”!

Cicada

Apr 22, 2013

THE CICADAS ARE COMING!

The last major 17 year cicada cycle I can remember happened when I was in high school. It felt like a nightmare that went on for weeks. The ceaseless shrieking of frenzied, mate-seeking insects jangled everyone’s nerves. That year, a truck jackknifed on I-66 when a cicada flew through the open window of the cab and into the truckdriver’s ear. My walk to school and back was also fraught with peril. It was impossible to take a step without crunching shells underfoot. Every tree and telephone pole was covered with empty brown cicada husks. The lightest breeze would dislodge the exoskeletons and they would waft through the air like wraiths. Their legs were like grotesquely large velcro hooks blindly reaching for my hair, forcing me to dodge and weave to avoid them. Eventually, the shells would get heaped at the curbside in such copious quantities that they looked like piles of autumn leaves. The whole experience was horrifying.

Decades have passed. I’ve learned since then that the cicada has positive connotations in many cultures. In Korea, the cicada is a symbol of nobility of spirit. The insect, who only sings when the sun is shining, is a symbol of sun-drenched Provence and appears in provençal fabric and ceramic figurines. Aesop’s fable “The Cicada and the Ant” (not “The Grasshopper and the Ant”!) has given us the image of the improvident insect who sings all summer long while the ants toil away. Because of this fable, the cicada is associated with music, gaiety, and lightheartedness. In Ancient Greece, the cicada was considered sacred to Apollo, because of its ecstatic “music.” In China, a jade cicada amulet would be placed on the tongue of a deceased person in the hope that it would ensure that person’s resurrection. It is this association with rebirth and immortality that is most often seen across cultures.

I finally learned to appreciate the cicada one summer day, five years ago. My family had gathered at my sister’s house to be with my mother, who was being treated at Memorial Sloan-Kettering for her primary amyloidosis. There had been many dark days when we were afraid that our mother, the light of our lives, would never get out of bed again. We had each in our own way tried to prepare ourselves for the worst. To our great joy, my mother’s disease went into remission. On that summer day, we were all outside basking in the warmth of the sun and the unexpected blessing of being all together, when my little nephews spotted a lone cicada emerging from its shell. It felt like a rare and sacred privilege to witness this miracle:

Garden Party

Apr 19, 2013

I’m an indoorsy kind of person, except for in the spring months. Here in Virginia, the mosquitoes will soon be out for blood, it will be oppressively hot and humid, and I’ll retreat to my natural habitat: the Great Air-Conditioned Indoors. But springtime in Virginia is so rapturously beautiful, that I am irresistibly drawn outside. It’s a spectacular party that goes on for weeks, where I keep running into old friends that I haven’t seen in ages.

You made it!

I’m so glad you could come!

It was a terrible winter, wasn’t it?

But you look fabulous!

Oh, hi! Did you just get here?

Hey, Gorgeous! I’ve missed you! I have someone I want you to meet!

You guys are going to LOVE each other!

Those colors are amazing on you!

Oh good! I was hoping I’d run into you here!

I’m so glad you showed up! I wasn’t sure you were going to make it after that crazy winter we had!

How have you been, dear friend? It’s been way too long!

I’m so glad you decided to come! it wouldn’t have been the same without you!

Hooray! You’re here! And you’re wearing my favorite perfume!

I’ve been dying to see you! I’m so glad we finally get to spend some time together!

Can I get you a drink?

Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!

Even the uninvited guests are charming in their own way…

Oh, you came…and you brought aaaaall your friends, too!

…sort of.

Oh. Hey.

It’s been a difficult week…May we all find peace and solace in nature.

And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Cherry Blossoms

Apr 18, 2013

At work today I had to make a phone call to someone in California. When she found out I was calling from Virginia, she told me she used to live in this area. “It must be beautiful there right now,” she said wistfully, “Are the cherry blossoms out? I miss them so much!”

I can’t imagine not being able to look forward to cherry blossoms every spring. They mean more to me with each passing year. I associate them with my mother and with hope.

After years of traveling back and forth across the Pacific, my gypsy parents finally settled down in their house in Virginia a couple years ago. They arrived in the middle of a particularly harsh winter. My mother had been sick for years with primary amyloidosis, a disease that almost took her life. The long flight from Korea had exhausted her and it was taking much longer than usual to recover from jet lag. My mother realized that she would never be able to make the arduous journey across the ocean again. She was happy to be closer to her family in Virginia, but profoundly sad to know that she had left behind her life in Korea forever.

She became so depressed, we were worried about her. When spring finally came, we were hopeful that this most beautiful of all seasons would lift her spirits. There’s a cherry tree right outside her bedroom window, and she fretfully waited and waited for the buds to unfurl. All around the neighborhood, other cherry trees were blooming, but my mother’s tree stubbornly refused to blossom. “Why won’t it bloom?” she kept asking. I had many anxious conversations with my sister about that cherry tree, all ending with that very same refrain. We were so desperate for my mother to be happy, we would have opened each blossom by hand, if we could have. The tree took its sweet time, but it finally burst forth in the most lavish and exuberant display of ravishing pink flowers we had ever seen…

I called my mom a few days ago.

“Is your cherry tree blooming, Mom?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered serenely, “It’s beautiful.”

Trees
by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

First Birthdays

Apr 17, 2013

The Korean first birthday party (dol) culminates with the doljabi ritual, during which the child is shown a variety of objects that represent different possible fates. Whatever the child picks up first is meant to foretell his or her future. There are some variations on what is set before the child, but the most basic objects are:

A thread for long life
A pen for scholarship
Money for wealth
Chopsticks for a life without hunger

Here are photos from the doljabi of all the children in my family in birth order.

My niece chose…

the pen!

My oldest son chose…

the pen!

My second son chose…

the pen again!

My triplet nephews chose…

the pen! the pen! and yes: the pen!

“Oh, come on!,” we were all thinking by this point. “Couldn’t at least one of you pick the money? Who’s going to pay off all those college loans for you scholars?”

My daughter chose (cue the suspenseful music)…

the pen!

One last chance. My nephew chose…

the pen!

Home

Apr 12, 2013

I love the city.

I feel energized and really alive when I’m there. If I could pick anywhere in the world to live (and had unlimited funds!), I’d make my home in NYC.

But I live here:

En route home from NYC

O.K., this isn’t actually where I live. I stopped the car about an hour north of Charlottesville to take this picture on our way home from NYC.

I must admit, it was good to come home to this:

Magnolia x loebneri ‘Leonard Messel’

Daffodil ‘Replete’

Hellebores

And…….this!

Prunus Persica

I wait all year long for this patio peach tree on my deck to bloom. When the occasional peach forms, I leave it for the squirrels. I grow it solely for those gorgeous, ephemeral blossoms. For one or two weeks at the most, the tree is a vision of exquisite loveliness.

After an entire week of full days and late nights in Gettysburg and New York City, my son Nicholas fell ill on our last night in the city. He was burning with fever and he had a pounding headache and sore throat. As he sat in our hotel room, shivering, his teeth chattering, his friend Noah wrapped a quilt around his legs. It was a vision of exquisite loveliness to see this adolescent “googleyezing,” fart machine toting, water-squirting camera bearing prankster sitting solicitously by his friend’s side, his blue and pink spiked head cocked, asking him how he was feeling.

Back at home a couple days later, my son Teddy and three of his friends were having a long-awaited spring break sleepover. They were camped out in the basement watching a movie. In order to segregate Nicholas and his germs from our guests, I set him up in our master bedroom with his own movie. Nicholas settled himself down where my husband usually sleeps.

“Lie down on my side of the bed so you don’t get Dad sick,” I told him.

He said, “But yesterday Dad told me to stay on his side, so I wouldn’t get YOU sick.”

Home is wherever there are people who care about you and who look out for you. It’s wherever you have invested your heart by planting seeds that will blossom into flowers or friendship…whether that’s in a hotel room in NYC, or in your own little patch of paradise in Charlottesville.

Hope your weekend is “wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping”!

Central Park

Apr 11, 2013

For our last morning in NYC, the boys wanted to go to Central Park.

As the boys climbed the rocks, Rosita and I sat on a park bench and chatted (and took pictures, of course). Here’s her lovely photo of a horse-drawn carriage:

It was time to leave New York and head back to our lives in different states.

When Rosita’s family moved away four years ago, I gave her a seal that said this:

When we met up this time, she gave me this pendant she had made using the seal:

Rosita’s pendant

It was hard to say goodbye to our friends, and of course, we could never forget them.

Friends then, now, and always.

Happy Birthday, boys…We love you.

*Read Rosita’s take on our weekend in NYC here.

Soho & Chinatown

Apr 10, 2013

New York Adventures continued…

Breakfast!

by Rosita

Although we were in NYC to celebrate our sons’ thirteenth birthdays and to do boy-oriented things, I considered it my duty as a friend to introduce Rosita to the joys of Uniqlo. The boys managed to find a way to amuse themselves:

Next we went to Pearl River, a fabulous Asian emporium in Soho and one of my favorite stores of all time. I brought my sister there once and we spent a longish time there, which might explain this text:

My son replied:

But look!

And look!

Yep. Victory is sweet.

Muji, which Rosita refers to as her favorite “anal retentive validation store” was juuuuust down the block, so off we went. Rosita took this photo of the boys looking pretty happy to be there and posted it on Facebook:

Muji

I took this photo moments later:

We wandered over to Chinatown in search of lunch, but were waylaid by a chopstick store. Yes, a chopstick store! It’s not like you see one of those every day…