Browsed by
Author: Anne Cassidy

Ink Stains: Before and After

Ink Stains: Before and After

Comments 0 Comment

One hazard of being a writer is the frequent discovery of ink stains on my clothes. This happened the other day after a trip to the grocery store, where in the course of crossing items off my list (which has nothing to do with being a writer and everything to do with being a compulsive list-maker) I somehow smudged black ink on a white sweatshirt.

We’ll leave aside for the moment why in the world I bought a white sweatshirt and move along to the stain remedy. 

Long ago, I acquired a chart which listed such items as ammonia, baking soda, lemon juice and glycerine in an arsenal of stain busters. Glycerine is key here, being one of the only substances I’ve found that can remove ball point ink from fabric. I worked with glycerine, and a mixture of glycerine, dish detergent and ammonia, off and on for an hour: applying, rubbing, rinsing, reapplying. But in time, and with effort, the ink stains went away. 

I’m wearing the white sweatshirt again. Is it my imagination or does it look even creamier and more pristine than it did before I defaced it? I think it does. 

(Imagine the stain potential here.)

A Pedestrian at Heart

A Pedestrian at Heart

Comments 0 Comment

I pulled up at the light, heart pounding. I’d missed the turn-off for Rock Creek Parkway and now was in some sort of endless correction loop, counting the one-two-three-four-five-six — sixth! — exit of the roundabout, which would take me, after more twists and turns, to the parkway entrance.

As I waited at the light, I stared longingly at the pedestrians. They were mostly young (this was a university area), bopping along with backpacks tossed carelessly across their shoulders, chatting as they crossed at the light. How I longed to be one of them! 

Instead, I waited for the light to turn green, then put the car in first and made my way (eventually, after a hair-raising U-turn) onto the parkway. Yes, I reached my destination … but at a price.

I’ll always be a pedestrian at heart. 

(Hoofing it through an urban center.)

Hopeful Signs

Hopeful Signs

Comments 0 Comment

For years I rose early and left the house, then drove 20 minutes to the Metro station, where I boarded the train that took me to an office in the city.

A couple days ago, I made my first Metro trip of the year… of the year! And this, of course, in the eleventh of twelve months. What to say, other than once again how much the pandemic has upended our lives.

This week I rode in during evening rush hour but the train was only half full, and I felt myself strangely longing for the bustle of evening at the Vienna station. 

There were hopeful signs, though, new stations that will open next week as part of the Silver Line, and the crazy fact that even though my return train was emptier than the one heading into town … I ran into two people I knew. 

A Glow from Within

A Glow from Within

Comments 0 Comment

The most vivid tree in our yard is one we never planted. It’s a volunteer, little more than a weed for years and now coming fully into its own. 

Especially at this time of year, when it seems to glow from within.

The poplars and oaks are bare now, even the Kwanzan cherry has dropped its golden leaves. 

But the Japanese maple flames on…

Smart Books?

Smart Books?

Comments 0 Comment

I was about halfway through Paul Auster’s Notes from the Interior when I realized … I’d read it before. Or at least parts of it. 

Maybe libraries should issue subtle notifications when patrons check out books multiple times. Something like, “Last borrowed November 2016.” Nothing as overt as, “Are you completely unaware of the fact that you’ve already checked this book out, plus renewed it, so there’s a good chance you’ve read it before?!”

I suppose this falls into the category of the”smart” features I often decry. How many times have I joked that I don’t want my TV or refrigerator to be smarter than I am? So why should my library be?

Which means … I’m back to relying on good, old-fashioned, oh-so-fallible human memory.

Iced Tea!

Iced Tea!

Comments 0 Comment

As the mercury begin to settle back into more seasonal temperatures, I’ll celebrate the record-breaking warmth of the last  few days with a photo of my favorite beverage, iced tea.

Here it is in a hero shot from yesterday, when it slaked the thirst brought on by 80-degree weather. 

So as my laundry crisped outside and I attempted to write a paper instead of swinging in the hammock (which is what I wanted to do), my beverage of choice sweated and cooled and looked as fetching as a glass of iced tea can look. 

You’ll have to excuse the green shoots that seem to cascade from the side of the side of the glass. That’s not extra mint, but the fronds of a spider plant peeping out on either side. 

Sláinte! 

Mornings at 7

Mornings at 7

Comments 0 Comment

These are good days for morning people. 

No more darkness at 7 a.m., no more rolling over and drifting back to sleep, pretending it’s “still nighttime” even though a quick glance at the clock reveals that it most certainly is not.

The time change has given us back our precious early hours and we must decide what to do with them: a walk, a blog post, a head start on homework? All of these and more?

One thing is clear, though, and that’s the urgency to use these hours now, while we have them, because in a month or so, it will once again be dark at 7 a.m.

(Morning light illuminates a tributary of Little Difficult Run.)

Many Nations

Many Nations

Comments 0 Comment

Like many Americans these days I spend a fair amount of time wondering how we’ve become so polarized. It’s not just because we’re in an election season. It’s hard to read a newspaper, watch television or even carry on a conversation without noticing the rifts, which seem to grow deeper by the day.

Now that I’m reading American Nations by Colin Woodard, I have a better idea why this is happening. Although written before the most recent shenanigans (it was published in 2011), the book provides a history of, to use Woodard’s subtitle, “the eleven rival regional cultures of North America.” 

I’m learning about the Tidewater, where I live now, and Appalachia, where I grew up — although Woodward admits that the Bluegrass region of Kentucky (my original stomping grounds) might be considered a Tidewater enclave within Greater Appalachia.  And I’m gaining a better understanding of how the tolerant, anything-goes attitude I love about New York City harkens back to the founding of New Amsterdam and its mercantile roots.

We’re less of a melting pot than a large, lumpy stew. And Woodard is helping me understand why.

 

In Praise of Following

In Praise of Following

Comments 0 Comment

Yesterday’s walk was a blur of twists and turns. I had no idea where I was going, where I’d been. 

I could afford to be lackadaisical because I was walking with a friend who lives in those parts and knows the paths like the back of her hand. She led the way as we strolled down one trail and then another, past a daycare, a park, and pickle ball courts (my first time to witness the sport). 

While such walking doesn’t expand the mental mapping capacities, it can be lovely to turn off the piloting function, to be led, to follow. 

(Signs in Sintra, Portugal, where my mental mapping switch was most definitely turned to “on.”)

Leaf on Leaf

Leaf on Leaf

Comments 0 Comment

Yesterday’s walk took me on the Reston trail that loops behind the church, a lofty forest and a most beauteous sight on a warm and breezy late fall morning. 

I paused several times to snap a photo, to catch an angle of light, a leaf in its falling. 

I noticed how tumbling leaves sometimes snag and catch, land on other leaves, which cup and protect them, as if to say, we’ll keep you here another day, here on a branch and not on the ground. We’ll keep you upright, limb-bound, a creature of air not yet of earth.