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Catching Up

Again

Today the haunting began. I can go only so long without writing or reading, or thinking the thoughts of beginnings and endings. Updike liked centers. I don’t. The centers are suffocating, stagnant, the places of boredom and illness. We stir around within them, buying things, sleeping. Sleeping. Sleeping may be the singular warning of middles. That’s where you can hear the other voices and you drown.

Anne Packard (1933) Barca a remi sul blu

Anne Packard (1933) Barca a remi sul blu

In this painting you cannot see the line on the horizon. You might think you can, but you cannot hold it. It looks as if it should be one solid blue, top to bottom. But it is not. The water ends where the sky begins, though they merge. It isn’t just the horizon line, you see, it is also the boat. The boat, and the rower, the oars, traverse the blue and say: this is it, this  is the water through which we travel. And this is where we are.

 

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Those Were The Days

Quite a few years ago my son and I were talking about music and playing a variety of records. At that time, back in Iowa City, most everyone had a turn table and a collection of records. I had a very large accumulation myself—everything from classical and blues to folk and rock.

Janis Joplin was playing, loudly and passionately while we sang just as loud and just as filled with passion. After all, it was the only way to listen to some things. We had just moved into the game of “Oh! Remember when this came out?” when he asked to play Peter Paul and Mary. “Well,” I said, “we can, but I’m really not all that into nostalgia.”

He feigned a look around the room. “I don’t see any shag carpeting…”

Not getting the connection I responded, “What? Nobody does shag carpet anymore. There hasn’t been any for years. New anyway.”

“Huh. And you do know that Janis is nostalgia, right?”

I was shocked. I didn’t know. I didn’t know then and I don’t know now. With some things the old days get carried right along with you to whenever you are.

janis

Janis Joplin on her Psychedelic Porsche, 1968. Photographed by Jim Marshall

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Extremes In Time

Doesn’t this look like so much fun? I’ve studied it to see where the sleeves might land should the arms be lowered to a natural length. I don’t believe they would drag too much on the ground. I wish the site had posted photos of different arm positions. And then, given my want, I thought of a garment enhancement to address any long-standing length issues. I’m thinking a hook and eye, maybe even more than one or two, could be placed appropriately on the sleeves so that if one wished, they could be used to shorten and fill out the sleeves. These should be placed on the back of the flowing gatherings so they would not disturb the form when applied.

Then also, I had to think—wouldn’t such a thing be gorgeous today? And well it would, although I do believe it would be more ridiculed than welcomed. Today the critiques would run along the lines of “totally impractical” to “ridiculous.” Certainly nothing for the average citizen to wear. I do believe that many people, especially the critical, would be taken aback to learn this is a fashion design of years in the past.

And I, for one, would have it in a heartbeat even if I had to make up a reason to wear it. So maybe it’s not the extremes of the times—any times—so much as it is the extremes of people willing to embrace them.

Big Sleeves Day - Elsa Schiaparelli, 1950s

Big Sleeves Day—posted by Vintage Fashion Uncovered

The satin pants aren’t too shabby either. Although the protruding pockets would demand a form quite thin. Very thin. Indeed.

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National PI Day

Today—3.14—is officially PI day. I think the celebration that is called for is a freshly baked pie. The bakery where I go says that they do sell many more pies on this special day, so they always bake extra, and they are always all gone by the end of day.

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Wildlife Wednesday

Guess who’s back? Jeremy Bryner captured a few images of the herons returning to build their nests. The males return first, fix up the nest, and when the females return they inspect the nests and choose the one they like. The males await to offer a female checking out the nest a stick. If the female accepts this gift, it means they have accepted the not only the stick, but that nest. And the male who comes with it, of course.

Aren’t they majestic? Let the nesting and baby making (OK, egg laying) begin! These guys were photographed on Bath Road in Cuyahoga National Park. So does that mean these are The Herons of Bath Road? Sounds like a book title to me.