What a week, what a week.
I love being busy, 'specially when Greenboots is growing. It's exciting and full of expectation. To balance the frenzy, here's what I've been checking out:
In case you can't understand your woman, a handy map of her heart
Vocabulary Building? Yes please!
A reminder.
Mulchy knees.
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Is there anything better? This weekend brought both, and oh, how we enjoyed. It was like an overdose of sugar that hurts the teeth.
First, Lizzy came by to systematically dismantle the pencil cup. This is something she does almost everytime she's over. I love it! It's nice to see the house from her perspective: shelves, holders, magnets, erasers--they all take on new significange with Liz in the house.
We've even taken to sitting in the backyard; Liz is neatly poised between my legs and we collect sticks with the sun beating serenely on our backs. Love that girl and her wheedling ways
Then my wee niece Hayley came by for a visit. Harrison swept her up in his big boy arms and proved to his uncle he could be gentle, despite his proclivity for drumming and digging, respectively.
The morning hours were so bright with expectancy that we just had to make a blanket on the walk and mix up some clay.
Harrison loves my new straw hat. It keeps the sun off something fierce and it's lightweight and stylin' at the same time.
A walk downtown produced more of the "baby/sunbeam" theme. I found Margaret in one glorious band of light, utterly childfree. You see, if Margie doesn't have kids in tow, it means she's working on her midwifery degree. But her year is over, so hoorah! There she sat, lapping up the sweet light like a winter-worn cat finally let outdoors.
And then there was this apple tree in full bloom. Babies, sunbeams AND flowers. 'Bout sums up May around here.
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the boy, the boy. He's been with his dad for a week. While I have enjoyed not running out *every* night of the week for this and that, I do miss his wee self bopping through the house, making a great ruckus; hence, the following:
I think Gertrude Stein said it best:
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So there's this big idea out there that if we are to get people--drivers specifically--to get on their bikes in lieu of their gas guzzlers, we cyclists have to make it look appealing.
I've been muddling over this a lot, actually. I tried to think to before I started really biking, and had a hard time, but there was one item that stood out for me. The notion that cyclists are a seperate breed. What I mean is, some of them have all this really snazzy gear: saftey strips for their jackets, rainproof slickers for their shoes, sharp-looking helmets, rubberized gloves, clip-on shoes. I mean, the whole package can be a bit daunting for the average to-and-from would-be cyclist. But it's precisely these folks who we want to engage. Maybe a panier is as far as they'll get.
So what about an alternative to the "gear head" look? I totally respect and admire that hard core group, but for many, myself included, it's just not feasible.
So I like to adopt the Copenhagen Cycle Chic Manifesto.
- I choose to cycle chic and, at every opportunity, I will choose Style over Speed.
- I embrace my responsibility to contribute visually to a more aesthetically pleasing urban landscape.
- I am aware that my mere prescence in said urban landscape will inspire others without me being labelled as a 'bicycle activist'.
- I will ride with grace, elegance and dignity.
- I will choose a bicycle that reflects my personality and style.
- I will, however, regard my bicycle as transport and as a mere supplement to my own personal style. Allowing my bike to upstage me is unacceptable.
- I will endeavour to ensure that the total value of my clothes always exceeds that of my bicycle.
- I will accessorize in accordance with the standards of a bicycle culture and acquire, where possible, a chain guard, kickstand, skirt guard, fenders, bell and basket.
- I will respect the traffic laws.
- I will refrain from wearing and owning any form of 'cycle wear'.
~from their website.
Safety is always hot, though, so make sure you have a good helmet. Coif be damned, if you suffer a fall, you want to protect the beauty inside.
So yes, this manifesto has me excited. And while I won't be a slave to it, if we contribute to the aesthetic landscape on our bikes, maybe others will be all: "Like cute bike, man. I want one in orange!" or "Look at her kitten heel! What a genius on wheels!"
So John, whose bum and bike are above, also made this great music video. Note how cool the cyclists are wouldya? Makes me want to take flight! It's bike season, afterall.
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Ersin came by last week and had with him some powerful dudes who systematically whipped the front yard into shape. I totally helped, actually. In sequence...
We spend an hour shaking out the good soil and removing the heavy root systems, if we think they can't be compressed as a base under the soil to come.
Once we flatten out the clumps, the truck arrives with the good soil and we back the heck up.
Good smell, good colour. Dave, the flannel-back philosopher, sinks in his shovel and comments on the air quality that none of us plebians can detect.
Ersin rakes the soil until it is clump free and even.
I planned a good deal this time before I hit the greenhouse. For the first shop, I focused on the foundational plants, such as evergreen perrennials and coniferous shrubs.
Those begonias aren't mine, but their colour was so lush I wanted to weep with joy.
Ms. Mel came over and helped to come up with an excellent plan to give the garden some shape in the way of a path. I will dedicate it to her, when it opens, officially with a walk-through and a ribbon cutting.
Final reveal to come....!
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Been slacking on the Blog end after a weekend of film conferencing and then a major landscaping project all week long. I've an upcoming wedding of my oldest friend this weekend and she has me singing Ave Maria. More to come on that front. I'd like to share more on all of these fronts, as a matter of fact, but for now, this has me laughing in a self-depracating kind of way--in a way only an Arts Major could understand.
Sometimes I have so many different types of things going on, I feel dizzy. What makes me happy, as the Danes well know, is to ride my bike and to tinker with it. This morning, I cleaned the chain and derailleur after a winter of cycling in sandy snow. It was almost like pulling up a long root, pikcing off all that grease. It felt good.
Good Bike Stuff.
For when you want to be snoopy in a non-digital, look-through-people's-windows- kind of way.
But don't get caught.
And for the best CENSORED reading...
That's my dad and my brother and sister. Note the yellow datsun and the polyester pants. Yes, the 70s.
An inspiring front yard. But just wait till you see what I'm doing around here. Boy-o-boy.
{from theselby.com}
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I received the call early Sunday morning. It was Ersin, from Planet Earth Organics--he was coming with a crew Tuesday morning to whip the front yard into shape. Boom! It was a call I'd been expecting since last winter. All of that clumpy, turned over and perfectly sterilized soil was going to be made into a smooth, clump-free, workable plot of land. And that stubborn stump which invades my garden would be ripped from its clenches. Gone.
I was giddy with anticipation of the plan, and the sun was beating so fervently, that I decided it was the right thing to do, planting all those periwinkle.
"But it's only the end of April!"
I know, I hear that. I'm a bit of maverick that way. Sometimes, you just flout the rules and do it your own way. See that muddy hill yonder? Come August, it'll be spread over with a dense carpet of glossy green groundcover.
You can see the exposed roots from the soil erosion. Periwinkle is excellent for preventing a soil exodus. The roots reach far and the plant sure can spread, given the right conditions. To encourage their spread, cover some of the stems with soil to coax a root. As usual, I forgot to add my Mykes in the planting stage, so rather than pull them all out, I sprinkled a handful of the stuff at the plant's base, then watered it.
Thanks to Harrison for the lovely pictures.
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Do the europeans know how to cycle or what? Some of the most hautest cyclists come from across the pond.
Now, I've lived in some pretty rad cities where cycling culture is as vibrant and righteous as the best european city. Can we do it here? Can our northern culture, with its heaving roads and sandy shoulders evoke the same kind of nostalgic style as Montreal or London, Paris or Copenhagen?
I've been drooling over the style from this great book.
The cyclists all hail from London, UK and seem never to be in a hurry. They just coast around, their hair maintaining a fresh coif. For them, it's all about a fashionable meander.
It's just been on my mind--I'll be commuting to the college come June 5 days a week by bike. It's quite possibly the most thrilling aspect of the job itself. A cool am ride to rouse the herons from their nests, bookended by a fast, sweaty ride right to the lake for a swim. I figure if I can make cycling look appealing to others who drive, then I've accomplished something. From the Globe...
{image from leeleetea}
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