Like a Hawk

Like a Hawk

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The hawk looks contemplative here, as if he’s pondering the world and his place in it. But in truth he’s looking for dinner. He’s watching his prey … like a hawk.

He showed up several times last night as we supped on the deck, making me wonder for a moment if he was sizing us up, too, but realized we were too big and tough.

The raptor was here a couple of nights ago, also, perching on the deck railing and on top of the rain gauge, as he does here. I imagine he’s keeping his eye on the bird feeder. There’s a resident chipmunk this summer — or at least there was.

Whenever I see hawks now, I think of the close encounter I had with one a couple of years ago, how the parakeets barely escaped his talons, how they might have perished had I not been there. The parakeets stay inside now. The world is too wild for them.

But not too wild for me. How privileged we were last evening to spend long minutes gazing at this guy.

Practically Perfect

Practically Perfect

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I had another post idea for today, but I hadn’t finished it before I left for an early morning appointment. Now back home, I have a different idea, a riff on this mid-June, almost mid-summer, practically-perfect-in-every-way day.

Start with the 75-degree temperature, the ample sunlight and the breeze, which is just enough to stir the poplar leaves. Add in the smell of grass from a new-mown lawn and the song of wrens and robins.

Since I was out early, I worked in a walk-and-talk with a friend and her sweet doggie. We ended with chai lattes at a neighborhood cafe.

Practically perfect or completely so? Now that I think of it, maybe the latter.

A Word on Walkability

A Word on Walkability

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As my thesis year approaches, I find myself thinking about sense of place, my thesis topic. It’s an interest in place that inspired this blog and continues to generate material — not only from walking through the suburbs but from reflecting on them, too.

The last two weeks we’ve been hosting a visitor from Paris, someone used to walking in a city, running errands on foot, relying chiefly on public transportation. He enjoys the green abundance of our corner of the world and appreciates our space, but he misses the walkability to which he’s accustomed.

In another, similar, vein, I recently lunched with a young acquaintance who decided to stay put in a condo rather than buy a house because she loves living in a walkable community. She would rather have less space and more mobility. My oldest daughter and her family have made a similar decision.

I see in this the small but important vanguard of a movement to value more than just space: to appreciate density and walkability — and be willing to sacrifice for them, too.

“We Take Venmo”

“We Take Venmo”

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School ends here next week but early releases, field days and test days mean that the neighborhood already has a summer-vacation vibe.

Exhibit A is the first lemonade stand of the season, featuring an enterprising bunch of school-aged kids. Its ringleader waves a sign half as big as he is, and practically flags down the cars on the street. The other day I saw him trying to stop a school bus.

When I drove by on my way to walk Monday, I slowed the sedan, and realized I’d left my wallet at home.

“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t have any money.”

“No problem,” he said. “We take Venmo.”

Such is life in the elementary-school fast lane. I can’t wait to see what summer has in store.

(Another sign of summer.)

Mendelssohn in the Morning

Mendelssohn in the Morning

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It’s not exactly early, but I’ve been up for a while, up and out as a matter of fact. Back home now and reveling in the Mendelssohn Piano Trio Number One playing on the radio.

When I think about Mendelssohn I wonder why it took me so long to admire his music. When I was young, he was the Overture to Midsummer’s Nights Dream and the violin concerto. That’s about it.

Then I discovered his Italian Symphony … and his Octet … and his piano trios and other chamber music. The near-manic energy, the gorgeous melodies. Now Mendelssohn is one of my faves.

The lyrical second movement of the piano trio has come and gone, as well as the brief and memorable scherzo. The finale is playing now, the allegro, as the piano, violin and cello show off for each other. It’s energetic music; it puts a skip in my step.

Mendelssohn in the morning. It’s the way to go.

(The first page of Mendelssohn’s Octet, courtesy Wikipedia)

The Word on the Trail

The Word on the Trail

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The word on the trail yesterday was the fox napping on a big, flat-topped rock in the middle of the stream. He was having a lazy day, his tail hanging almost into the water.

I heard about this from a fellow walker: “Did you see the fox?” she asked, as her small, black, unleashed dog ambled beside her. “He’s sunning himself in the creek.”

This isn’t the only animal sighting I’ve heard about from a fellow walker. I’ve been tipped off to deer and birds, too.

Usually, we trail-walkers acknowledge each other with a nod, smile or wave, seldom exchanging words. But a fox on a rock in the stream — that’s worth a quick conversation.

(Alas, no pictures of the critter. I was walking without phone or camera.)

Double Crown

Double Crown

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Over the weekend, Kentucky Derby winner Golden Tempo added the Belmont Stakes to his win column. He skipped the Preakness, so he could not win the Triple Crown. But winning two of the three races means he wins the “double crown,” which is not a designation I’ve heard mentioned but is worthy of note.

Yesterday I watched a replay of the the colt’s come-from-behind victory. As the thoroughbred made up a seemingly impossible amount of ground, I thought about the heart of a horse who can achieve such a feat.

What is it that fires up the winner, that pushes an animal to run faster than the others? What role does temperament play? Anatomy? Training?

I learned this morning that Golden Tempo is a descendant of Secretariat, a horse with a 24-foot-11-inch stride. I remember seeing markers demonstrating this stride at the Kentucky Horse Park years ago. It seemed an impossible foot (hoof) fall.

But mechanics are only part of the equation. A horse must want to come from behind to win, must respond to track and rider. How much of this is a mystery, something we’ll never know or understand? Quite a lot, I think.

D-Day To-Dos

D-Day To-Dos

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For those of us who think we have a lot on our plates, here’s some perspective: a D-Day to-do list from one of Winston Churchill’s secretaries.

As we celebrate the anniversary of D-Day I’m thinking of my visit to the Churchill War Rooms in London last month, when I toured the warren of secret underground chambers that were the nerve center of the British command in World War II.

I saw the room believed by almost everyone to be Churchill’s private toilet but which in fact contained a secure line to Washington. Churchill spoke to Roosevelt from this room as together they hatched plans to save the free world.

I saw the map room, where information poured in from around he world and pins marked the spots where convoys and troops were stationed. When the map room was prepared for display back in the 1980s, archivists found an envelope with three sugar cubes, the weekly ration of Wing Commander John Heagerty, tucked away in a desk drawer.

I saw the special typewriters Churchill requested for the typing pool, silent typewriters. I tried to imagine typing without the clatter. In fact, I spent a lot of time trying to imagine the rooms the way they were 82 years earlier, when Dad, who had just turned 21, prepared to climb into the tail-gunner’s seat of a B-17 bomber and fly air support for the boys on the beaches.

Heat Management

Heat Management

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As the heat starts to build, I want to keep the house in its pristine, un-air-conditioned state. I’ve already closed the windows, trapping the cool morning air. I know the place will heat up as the day moves along. I hope that it’s bearable. If it isn’t, I’ll flip the switch — and be glad I have a switch to flip.

In the old days, when we first moved here, we prided ourselves on not using the AC. I’m afraid we were obnoxious about it, entertaining guests in a sweltering living room that we could have cooled if only we’d hadn’t been on our high horse.

My current approach to heat management is less draconian. But it is an acknowledgment that summer is warm and heat can be handled as many handle it around the world. Being more active in the morning, more sedentary in the afternoon. Being attuned to hourly fluctuations. Not super-chilling a house which then becomes a trap, because when a house is 72, 92 seems unbearable.

Being caught in a British heat wave reminds me how fortunate we are to have central air-conditioning, and when the heat and humidity reach intolerable levels, I won’t hesitate to use it. But I’m going to try and keep things natural as long as I can.

ISO Momentum

ISO Momentum

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I’m wondering how to keep moving through a day that began with a 3:40 a.m. run to Dulles International Airport. I was okay after returning home to sleep three more hours, energetic enough to tackle a yoga class and a warm walk around Lake Anne. But now lunch is over and my head feels stuffed with cotton.

I’m in search of momentum. By all rights I should be cleaning closets or pulling weeds, tasks that would keep me awake, but here I sit, laptop in lap, ready to do some online research.

Let’s see if it’s scintillating enough to keep me vertical.

(The scintillating stairway at the Tate Gallery in London.)