Wednesday, July 31, 2013
'By now you can see that whenever you think you are contemplating your garden, you are really–as you cut across the lawn and trail across the flowerbeds, and duck through the hedge to find a quiet place in the shade–thinking about love, and despair, and safety, and hope.' Dominique Browning, Paths of Desire (2004), pp. 61
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Opened in 1931, the perfectly proportioned Flevopark is located on the eastern edge of the Indsiche Buurt, which is conveniently located just a quick roll of my bicycles' wheels away, down the end of my street, and just a little bit further more... Luscious is this delightful park and its welcoming eighteenth century limestone and wrought-iron entry gateway, and the park itself, of course, in all its tiny glory. The park merges the romantic English ideals with the pragmatic need for playgrounds and tennis courts, and other twenty-first century accessories, such as a café, or two. An ideal retreat from the hustle and bustle happening seemingly non-stop on Javastraat, the park's path's meander through the mature yet sumptuously spaced trees, their leaves heavy with water from last night's terribly lovely thunder and lighting storm; a heavy rain washed over this neighborhood and its households, shops, and green spaces in the early hours of the day, breaking the humid spell that the city has been cast beneath for the last week or two–so fierce, this uncommonly humid Amsterdam heat. Happy are we–I speak for the city and its plants–that the pleasant mid-evening summer-cool air has made its return, refreshing in its slight chill and dampness to this city's citizens' delight. Now that the city's public spaces have begun to dry out, the park was ripe for immersion this afternoon. Immerse within the mid-summer and richly varied hues of this scenically design driven park, would be how I spent today's sunnly-strewn, summer afternoon. Not an airplane in sight, not a car to be seen–and amplified by the surface of the garden's rather formal reflecting pool–clouds of the day flooded my vision, while thick walls of green, descending to the flowers I found near me, assisted in connecting me to the perceived natural landscape surrounding me completely. That connection I intend to make more fluid in the future. Artificial it may be, Felvopark is ambrosial in its seduction, and a true friend indeed.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
The moon is full and the sun is still high. I've just come home from the beach, and as always, it was really very special. Something about the combination of our minds, thoughts, hearts and bodies combine when we're together. It's the closest I've ever felt with anyone, and I hope the feeling stays forever. There's no reason for it not to. Our life together is this beautiful adventure of gardens, cities, our house, our city, more gardens, bike rides, parties, events, family and friends, and the everyday and the extraordinary–and all are possible within the course of one week. We are part of the pack, yet we follow our own. We're clever, and we're cute. We are going to Asia in two months, and to England in five; how exciting to be able to be in London. I'm sure somewhere out there another person is writing the same poignant pining for New York City, just as I did when I was young. But am I young? In many ways I think yes, and in other ways I think no. I am wise in the mind, old in spirit, and young in body. If this is a good combination I do not know; but I do believe it is me. And that's the thing with belief: you can change it all the time, yet consciously one can also carry within them, streams of underlying thoughts, feelings, spiritual desires, as well as repel-ations, toward others and other objects. What is it that pulls one in this direction, rather than that direction? The direction of my bamboo is straight for the sky. They have become tall, those bamboos. The other plants haven't been watered in 24 hours, and they seem to be doing just fine. After their–as in the lavender plants'–stroke, and mother nature and owner double-team induced drought, whilst I was away in Italy, the plants were nursed back to lusciousness after six days of no rain and hot hot heat. Of course Amsterdam's rain clouds stopped raining, the whole time I was away. And in that way, this city has stayed: no rain for days. We are hot here in this city. And most do not have or would ever want, air-conditioning, except perhaps on days like today. Today my plants stand proud and tall in this Italian-esque late-mid-summer sun. I too stand tall and proud as my life continues forward, and the full moon begins to, for the evening, say hello.