From the monthly archives:
Just back from Richmond, VA, where I saw the GardenFest of Lights at the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden.
The last time I visited the Ginter I complained about the full sun ruining most of my photos. This time everything was perfect – warm enough to handle a camera easily, and a sunset to die for. (More to come.)
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Ooh, it’s a heady week here in the Takoma Garden. Remember when I wrote about being interviewed for a TV show about blogging? I’d calculated that my share of the 8-minute segment might be a mere 2 minutes of air time (compared to the 2 and a half hours it took to do the interview). So the show aired yesterday and my bit was more like 20 seconds. Oh, well, I shouldn’t be surprised, given how charming the other interviewees were. So I’m cool with that and the good news is that the segment was a nice long one – 30 minutes – and might just motivate a few viewers to trying blogging themselves.
And now to pick a nit I know you’ll all identify with: If I’m not mistaken, and I hope I am, neither of my blog URLs were displayed on the screen, as the other interviewees’ URLs were. Grrr. But hey, I’m over it and happy to report that I didn’t hate-hate-hate seeing myself on the screen. I even got a nice email from a viewer saying she thought I’d "done well." Blessed be the reassurers.
Wanna link to the story? Yeah, we all do and I’ll post it here if and when it’s ever available. And you know I’ll be looking for that URL, too.
ELSEWHERE IN THE BLOGOSPHERE
In another medium I’m much more comfortable with, my second movie review appears today on Time Goes By and thanks again to Ronni Bennett for the assignment. It’s titled "Growing Old with Rocky Balboa." Yeah, that’s Sylvester Stallone, all right, still "fighting" at 60.
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"A very Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year.
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear."
John and Yoko
‘Peace’ Rose
This quote, first posted here on Christmas Day of 2005, is now even sadder to read.
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Chunky at birth, I was soon sporting thunder thighs, as you can tell by this howler of a beach babe photo. But fast forward to mid-childhood, to this lean kid up a tree, and the fat is long gone, so what happened? I say it was gardening. Pay attention, parents of America, because some little-known secrets about preventing childhood obesity are about to be revealed.
First, buy a house on a good half-acre of land, preferably surrounded by lots of woods, maybe in a town near Richmond, Virginia. Start a large vegetable garden and a larger ornamental garden and assign regular gardening duties to your kids, whether th
ey like ‘em or not. But to increase their chances of enjoying gardening chores, spend hours and hours outdoors with them tending the gardens, and fuss over the flowers and vegetables their work helped create.
Then give your kids plenty of unscheduled time for exploring those woods and engaging in lots of gardening-like activities, maybe building log forts or digging tunnels. Sure, you might not think of them as gardening activities, but they involve handling plants and dirt – the very essence of gardening. Of course, it’s important to give your kids indestructible bikes for exploring the countryside. And if you have the space and some spare change, how about a swimming pool in the backyard? Nothing fancy, of course, as long as it’s deep and cold. (In fact, it can be bare cinder blocks without even a drain in the bottom. Then every spring get the kids to drain and clean the pool themselves – it’ll be fun!!)
Of course there’s always dancing lessons and the swim team but remember, not too much scheduled time, okay? Then how about taking long walks with them, one on one. Call ‘em by the old-fashioned term – constitutionals. They’re a great time for catching up.
But back to reality? Okay, I know it’s no longer the ’50s, there’s more crime now, everybody’s busier, blah, blah, blah. I don’t care; I’m enjoying a nostalgic moment. 
I’m remembering gardening with my mom, walking with my dad, cleaning out the pool as a family, and playing badmitton after dinner. And I’m feeling pretty lucky about all that.
[Bottom photo: Bon Air, Virginia, 1958, with my cousin, now living in Seattle. Hi, Jan! Click to enlarge.]
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The other day I noticed what looked like streaks across my front lawn, the cute little oval I’ve written about before. My first, nonsensical thought was: Could it be the light? But you’ve probably already ID’d the problem – sloppy fertilizer application, specifically by hand, not spreader. Why, when I’ve read dozens of times that we’re supposed to use spreaders – any spreader, even the hand-held kind – did I use the gloved-hand-in-bag technique that produced this result? Because I’m special; I can shrug off advice I consider overly fussy and mechanical. Real organic gardeners use their hands right?
See, after years of completely neglecting my lawn I discovered, while researching an article on organic lawn care, that lawns really DO need supplemental nitrogen; without it they get patchy, just like mine. So like the dubie gardener I like to think I am, I applied a slow-release fertilizer in September and the results are in. Turns out it really works – where it’s actually applied. Human error strikes again.
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It’s honeymoon time for Adrian Fenty, Washington, D.C.’s 35-year-old mayor-elect, and I’ll take the
opportunity to join his chorus of supporters before he’s been in office long enough to start ruffling some feathers and pissing people off.
First, I love the back story. Like Barak Obama, he’s the product of a biracial marriage, in this case one that’s lasted. His parents own and manage a Fleet Feet store in the hip, gritty Adams Morgan area and everything I’ve read and heard about them tell me they’re unreconstructed hippies – my favorite kind – who’ve also managed to steer some terrific kids into adulthood. And Fenty and I went to the same (hippie) college, so I’m biased, okay?
And let’s not forget the context. When you hear "D.C. mayor" what name comes to mind? Unless you live here, it’s probably that favorite of late-night comedians, Marion Barry. Remember "The bitch set me up"? That guy. So anyone in the job inherits a history that’s still being lived down, even after 8 years with a Yale city planner in the job (the out-going Tony Williams, the ultimate anti-Barry.)
And I love two of his recent high-profile appointments. For his top manager he smartly snatched up wunderkind Dan Tangherlini, a guy I’ve seen in action in many a meeting, so I understand the excitemen
t about his appointment. Then there’s his pick to head the police department – 39-year-old Cathy Lanier, whose own back story is pure made-for-TV movie, the kind you’d never believe. Growing up poor in a single-parent household, she became pregnant at 14 and married the day after turning 15. Divorced by 18, she worked two jobs while achieving her GED degree. After joining the police force she earned her college degree and two masters, while raising her son, don’t forget. And after 16 years on the force she’s reached the top, baby. Right on!
Then because this ode to Fenty is all visceral, unashamedly feel-good, here’s why he’s on my mind. I attended my favorite Christmas party last night – a potluck dinner in a large and funky Victorian house just a few blocks from me in D.C., a party that Fenty has attended for years. Would he show up this year? He’s awfully busy these days, people were reminding each other. But of course he didn’t climb that high that fast by disappointing the people who love him, and he was there. So that’s cool, I was thinking, but what I really loved was the pride I could see filling all those high-ceilinged rooms. Especially for the long-time host and hostess, singled out by Fenty for big hugs and the gift of mayoral cufflinks. They’re tough civic in-fighters (and she the president of our local horticulture club a few years before me), but with the mayor-elect they looked as proud as they are of their own opera-singer daughter.
So now, before he becomes the target of the media and entrenched forces, especially the encrusted school board he wants to wrest control from, I’ll just enjoy the excitement over the young, smart, gutsy and ever-so-handsome Adrien Fenty, a name I predict will become known across the country, and not for jokes on late-night TV.
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