Delights: June 16 to June 22

As we were drying dishes the other day, Kevin said, “I miss your blog.” Evidently, I did too. I missed paying close attention. I missed gratitude. I missed sharpening my day with words. And I missed you, my dear blogging friends and everyone who has cheered me on over the years. So here we are!

June 16: It’s going to rain. It’s not going to rain. We definitely need the rain, but I really wanted to sit on the patio of Hillwood Estate, Museum & Gardens eating a picnic and enjoying the views. I persisted, the rainclouds drifted elsewhere (sorry!), and I found myself nibbling carrots to the soothing splash of Hillwood’s Japanese garden waterfalls. 

Eventually, I wandered through the museum’s special exhibit on glass. Amid splendid Venetian glassware and Baccarat crystal was the work of contemporary artist Karen LaMonte. She cast glass in the form of magnificent gowns in classical or Oscars-red-carpet styles. I gaped at the pieces’ delicacy and monumentality, their emphatic presence and, concurrently, the invisibility of the women wearing them. 

Maybe there’s significance. Or maybe her work is simply the summoning of magical fashion design using a magical medium. Breathtaking.

Bonus: While at Hillwood, I was convinced I’d seen LaMonte’s work before. Sure enough, I found this photo from a visit last year to the Smithsonian’s Renwick Gallery. 

June 17: Once again, after a ten-year absence, I’ve clipped a docent name tag to my lapel and resumed hosting tours at the Cherry Hill Farmhouse, an 1850s Greek Revival-style house in Falls Church. I was asked to train an enthusiastic new volunteer, who is studying theatre in a college. 

She lamented, “I hope I can help. But I really don’t see any connection between acting and what we’re doing.” I just smiled. 

Within a hour, she was gesturing to the taxidermied bird under a glass dome (“it’s really old!”), the glittering faux-gilt and green wallpaper in the living room (“imagine the dinners by candlelight!”), the schoolhouse writing slate (“Look! You can still see a child’s multiplication tables — and doodles!”) and the wasp-waist whalebone corset. “This is my favorite,” she told me. “I had to wear one in a performance.” Tell our visitors that, I urged. She demurred. “But I’m not part of the tour.”

Oh, yes, my new friend, you certainly are.

June 18: For years, our sons had played in each other’s yards, climbed each other’s trees, and eaten dinner with each other’s mothers. (Claudia and I had tacitly agreed to feed whoever was in our house at mealtime). Then life and distance intervened. 

Tonight, we were together again. Dave and Claudia, returning from California, hosted a birthday celebration of enormous warmth, generosity and joy. Once again, they convened neighbors and friends in happy reunion. Once again, two of our sons laughed together. And once again, I remembered that reconnecting with dear friends sometimes requires only the resolve to do it.

And, hey Dave, now that you’re back, do you want any of the six (or eight?) crates of records you gave Jeremiah before you moved away? 

June 19: Engrossed in his book on a beautiful beach day, Jeremiah felt a looming presence. He turned to see a wild Assateague pony standing right next to him, snuffling through his bag. Jeremiah kept perfectly still while the pony nudged his face. Eventually, the pony wandered away. But she left quite an impression.

June 20: We have a petite backyard behind our long one-level house; the smudges of lawn are so tiny that I think of the left and right sides as “rooms.” (They seem bigger that way.) We have a garden shed with French doors twelve feet from the house, herringbone patios and paths, and now — 25 years after we moved in — a proper dining area.

The table and chairs have beckoned for decades, but we favored other, cozier seating. Tonight, however, Kevin and I enjoyed our first al fresco patio dining — umbrella! table cloth! cafe lights! lantana spilling from a hanging basket! Even curtains in the shed windows blocking views of bikes and power tools.

We sipped our beers and inhaled the breezes. “We never linger like this inside,” Kevin mused. I can’t see the kitchen from here, I replied. But actually I think I lingered because it’s all suddenly so lovely. A long time coming and not a minute too late.

June 21, 11:10 am: I popped open my new Alma Thomas umbrella and stepped out into the (welcome) rain. I was late for a lunch date in Washington DC, and Metro repairs required shuttle bus service — plus 10 extra minutes I didn’t have.

Suddenly a friendly voice called out a greeting and offered me a lift to the Metro station. It was my friend Elaine. Only yesterday I thought of her and wondered whether she still liked me. (I had curled my lip in a sad little pout as I made up that story.) I confessed all to Elaine and she confessed inventing a similar story about me. 

I think the Universe sent the rain and a very late contractor to set us right.

June 21, 12 pm: I reached my lunch date on time and welcomed my friend Susan. I expected to use our time talking about administrative law (yeah, we both love it). Instead, our conversation pinballed from our mothers’ stories to high school reunions, from historic villages (my friend lives in a 1740s house with 40 acres and a grist mill) to retirement (do it!). And we talked about taking time to nurture friendships. Me to Universe: lesson learned.

June 21, 2 pm: After lunch, I plunged into the Smithsonian’s Renwick Gallery, dripping wet and eager to see that reclining Karen LaMonte sculpture I recalled at Hillwood. Instead I found myself practicing a way of seeing espoused by my blogger friend Ju-Lyn. 

Twice, I lingered for five minutes in front of a piece of art: one glass, one ceramic. Twice, my mind simultaneously focused and expanded. Twice, I saw things — at the point where looking became reverie — that seemed crafted just for me.

I lack the patience to gaze for five minutes at pieces I don’t, at first glance, care for. But maybe that’s exactly where next time I should begin.

June 21, 4 pm: Cold, windy, raining — perfect weather for baseball? I went anyway….

June 21, 7 pm: Cold, windy, raining — perfect weather for a cozy dinner with Nate near the ballpark. 

June 21, bedtime: I need to update my resume soon. But retirement is so exhausting.

June 22: I’ll close with a five-star Delight from April 14. In the chilling rain at the ballpark yesterday, I thought of it wistfully….

With two tickets in hand for that evening’s Washington Nationals baseball game, I received a phone call from my team contact asking whether Jeremiah and I wanted to participate in a first inning promotional event. “Will we be on the Jumbotron?” I squeaked. Yes. “Um, I need to check with Jeremiah. I’ll call you back.”

Jeremiah immediately said yes, and we spent the rest of the afternoon worrying about the bizarre trivia questions we might be asked. [Last night, a fan was asked to spell “fluoride.”Another was asked to identify a song by Linkin Park.] Finally, we settled into our seats, received assurances of help from the fans around us, and soon welcomed the peppy Nationals representative and a huge camera to our upper deck home. Yes, we were on the Jumbotron.

The question: “How long have you been a season ticket holder?” (11 years). The prize: two seats in the Diamond Club, right behind home plate. Free food, free beer, free popcorn, free ice cream, great seats — and cheers from the fans around us.

As we walked — stunned and euphoric — to our seats, random fans congratulated us. Fans already in the Diamond Club (who had paid for these seats) congratulated us. And we congratulated ourselves for taking a chance. Extra innings, anyone?

Readers, to receive notifications by email each time I make a post, just scroll all the way down this page (next to the “word cloud”), look to the left and click on the black button that says “Join Me!” And if you think a friend might enjoy these, please share the Delight!

If you’d like to browse my past delights, please consult the “word cloud” featured at the very bottom of this post. Find a theme or two that interests you and sift through the sands. Or learn a bit more about my Blog by visiting my Welcome page. You’ll also see links to four essays that were published in print magazines. I’m glad you’re here!