Ground Plane XV

 

Ground Plane XI

 

Ground Plane II

 

Shed.

 

Seaside III

 

Seaside II

 

Seaside I

 

Go Fly a Kite.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Flyers,

 

The sky is waiting for you, so today, a little flier on flyers-  Do you make your own kites?  I bet you did once, although perhaps not recently.  The thing about making a kite is that they don't always fly all that well.  Building a kite is a must for learning that things don't always go as we'd like.  You are maybe thinking, "well, um, I think we have a lot of that already!"  But really, you know, we don't have a lot of that.  We have a lot of 'believe in yourself' and a lot of 'try, try again' and a passel of the 'drive to succeed.'  But, what of the 'patience of failing?'  What of 'doomed but completed?' 

 

The kite and making it are a study in a kind of poetry of metaphor and potential, and whether it soars or stumbles, the making is a fine time.

 

Begin by making one without any instruction at all- use whatever you have.  Drinking straws, chopsticks, twigs, reeds and plastic wrap, old bags, silk chiffon, tissue paper.  Then maybe get a book, from the library.   You are doing all this with a Someone Else, mind.  If you are very lucky, your Someone Else is younger and less experienced in making kites, and you are a Paragon of Patience and Resource.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PS 

Perhaps some time has passed, and you have learned now that everything 'flies' if you run fast enough with your string: a wonderful thing to discover!  Should you find yourself without even the drive to search your kitchen drawer for straws, you could click over this way, and get yourself a kit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon is Here, Now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Melons & Pots.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

¿Qué te pasa calabaza?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nada, nada limonada.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pastries I have known.

 

Dear Financier Fanciers,

My good fortune continues-  I received three sweet birthday treats last week from one of my oldest and dearest friends.  She had been out to the beautiful coast of Maine, on an island even, just like Time of Wonder, and she brought back two nice cakes in a pretty handmade bowl.  The cakes came from The Standard Baking Company.  One was a multi-armed star shaped pastry, which I astounded my friend by recognizing as a Financier.  And was it good! 

The whole episode got me to thinking about pastries I have known, and pastries I have yet to meet.
I have planned for years to make Financiers, and also Friands, which are a kind of Australian close relative.

I have made many Madeleines, but I have not yet made Canelés.  I have made Tarte Tatin, but not Île Flottante.  Pithiviers and Paris-Brest, but not Le Succès.  Reine de Saba, but not Charlotte Malakoff.  I have made Mont Blanc, but not Blancmange, and I have made Pain d'Epice, L'Opéra, and Langues de Chat, but not Savarin.

Oh!  I know, so many lovelies that I have yet to make; no time to chat!  Try this recipe, if you like, from Eric Kayser, whose Financiers are a favorite of David Lebovitz's.  They were very good, but not quite as good as the one from Standard Baking. 






PS
Yes, we love Robert McCloskey here at the Dodo, and if you are anywhere near Hamilton, high in the middle and round at both ends, stop by this museum.

Collecting.

Dear Ambulant,

I am sitting here, today, with my minimalist music, and my picture window:  I see dragonflies, cabbage whites, sulphurs, monarchs, tarantula hawks, wasps, and many smaller insects that I do not know by name.  They are whizzing by urgently, and I see that the leaves are quite yellow, too.  I am always sorry to see the Summer give way to the Fall, although I am fond of Fall, so I don't  know why I should feel so.  I suspect it is a sort of blanket melancholy in seeing things change, grow, move along.  The speed that things slip away at astounds me, but you know all that, you know that is why I am here, trying to tell you a little bit of what I see, as it dashes past, and away from me.  My only puny defense against all the endings, all the passings, is to have another plan, another date, another schedule, another something to look forward to.

And what of the record of the days, the events, the times?  Do you long to make a mark that records your witnessings?  To collect a smidgeon of information and set it down for the future?  Here are two very fine projects to contribute to:

Record the Earth.

Safecast.

I will wander out, now, beyond my picture window, to see the great sunflowers bending low their massive heads, because their bloom is nearly over, and the time of their feeding birds is nigh.  In a few weeks, perhaps I will record the sounds of small beaks snapping open the shells....