Delights: May 8 to May 14

May 8: Back in September, I signed up for an event celebrating the Smithsonian’s State Fairs exhibition at the Renwick Gallery. Perfect docent training, I thought, because I’d need to pass a test to give tours there.

I arrived to discover that I wasn’t actually supposed to be there: the party was a “thank you” for Smithsonian benefactors, featuring food, drink, a few friends I was delighted to encounter — and one artist.

The artist, Dr. Rodney Zeitler of Iowa City, Iowa, stood with his object, and I stood with him. “When the Smithsonian asked me to contribute to the State Fairs exhibition,” Dr. Zeitler said,  “I was incredulous.” 

Why? Because his particular expertise is canning. Jellies, jams, preserves, conserves, relishes, sauces and much more. He told me that the Smithsonian team arrived in his dining room with a specific plan to array shapes, colors and sizes in a very attractive back-lit pyramid. 

Dr. Zeitler waved off the compliments, saying, “The Smithsonian made the art. I just put things in jars!”

Bonus: During my tour today of the State Fairs exhibition, two of my visitors reported a specialty in medieval art. Hmmm. I’ll show you something that might evoke stained glass, I offered. Later, they laughingly agreed that “Home Canning” was surprisingly close.

May 9: The five of us sat down at an outdoor table tonight giddy with the pleasure of each other’s company. “I feel like we could talk all night about everything and still have a ton more to say.” So said Daniel, Nate’s and Jeremiah’s friend who, returning to town for a weekend visit, enthusiastically accepted Jeremiah’s invitation to join us for my birthday dinner.

What 28-year old does that? Someone who loves books, movies, friends, conversation and, apparently, old people.

Kevin gave me bundles of love and support, coupled with a cherished card. Jeremiah’s partner Honora brought a bouquet of lilies and tulips to decorate our table and wrote a beautiful note. Jeremiah gave me a jigsaw puzzle by our favorite literature-themed puzzle maker. Nate phoned me from afar. 

And although implored not to, Daniel presented me with a palm-sized book in perfect condition dating from the 1950s or 1960s. Tucked in a cardboard sleeve, with its covers swirling like endpapers in reds and blues and its pages peppered with colorful illustrations, the book is Daisy Miller, by Henry James. A few years ago, when Daniel mentioned an interest in reading Henry James, I pressed a handful of Penguin paperbacks on him. He politely accepted one — and politely returned it when he moved away. 

Now he’s given me this beautiful book — the novel, Daniel said, that I urged him to read first. We closed down the restaurant talking about Infinite Jest and Don Quixote. Tempting titles, but maybe I’ll sneak in Daisy Miller one more time, with birthday memories turning the pages with me.

May 10: I’m famous! Not really. I’m overwhelmed! Yes, that part is true.

As part of the America 250^th celebration organized by my town, I’m hosting monthly tours at Falls Church’s historic Oakwood Cemetery starting in late May. I’ve been busy planning, researching and writing my tour — and yesterday I saw an article about it on a local news website. Yay?

I’ve now received scores of requests, to the point where I’ve had to close registrations for my May, June, July and October tours. I am encouraging folks to choose a different date and might even need to mention my October library talk about Oakwood as a consolation prize. 

Here I was thinking that I’d need to recruit friends and family to keep me from being lonely. Now I’m getting cheery emails from fellow taphophiles (from the Greek, literally meaning “lover of tombs”) who happily share photos with me of cool cemeteries they’ve visited.

I’ll report back after my May tour. In the mean time, wish me luck!

Postscript: When reading about Nijinsky I was dismayed to learn that this sculpture was installed over the dancer’s grave without his family’s permission. It shows Nijinsky in character as the puppet Petrushka. 

May 11: Sometimes it rains. 

I travelled to Lexington, Virginia, today to visit my son Nate. We met for a morning coffee and planned our day despite the downpour: a walk around the charming town, a tour of Washington & Lee University School of Law where Nate just completed his first year, and then exploring for me and working (etc.) for Nate until we would meet again for dinner.

My umbrella was my hero; my wool socks did pretty well too. I walked around the undergraduate campus, popped into cute shops and — sunshine! — visited the historic cemetery.

I write this now surrounded by lavender bushes under cloudless skies. I welcome the warmth and the rest. Four beautifully dressed college women just walked by on their way to Senior Photos. Four older people walked in the other direction in search of the grave of the horse of Confederate General Robert E. Lee. A foursome of college men passed me, using the university’s Great Lawn as a plastic-golf-ball chipping course. The University Chapel’s bell chimed the hour in a tinny quaint tone.

Maybe I’ll renew my wanderings. Or maybe I’ll just stay right here.

May 12: While walking to my exercise class this morning, I stooped to grab an errant scrap of paper. I put it in my pocket. A few moments later, I plucked a candy wrapper from the curb. Into my pocket it went. When a third (icky) scrap appeared, I sighed in dismay: I had no litter bag with me. A few steps later, though, a clean dog poop bag appeared on the sidewalk. Perfect.

On my way home, I spied an unreasonable pile of food packaging near the woods. Ugh. I shoved as much as I could into my dog bag and sighed again. Then I spied, fluttering from a bush, another clean empty plastic bag . Perfect.

Litter occasionally takes care of itself.