I threw away the Christmas tree today.
I know, you are thinking. Christmas trees should be thrown away in early January. We are almost to the end of March here, so it seems a little late to finally deal with the Christmas tree. You are envisioning a brown stick with a carpet of needles under it. And you have the right vision.
But it wasn't supposed to end like this.
We bought the tree alive, in a pot, from a reputable florist. At least they seemed reputable. The cost was enough that we expected the tree to grow on for a good ten years.
It was green enough when we bought it. It stayed green through Christmas. Early in January we moved it outside to enjoy more light, because the bits away from the window seemed to be turning brown. We watered it regularly, but it kept turning brown.
And then we noticed it wasn't draining at all. So we stopped watering to see if that would help.
Nothing helped. It died. And we were in denial. Surely it could recover? The falling needles only indicated a minor flesh wound. Not death.
I decided when it turned a lovely shade of beige that the tree was fully dead.
Two garbage bags later, and after a long time on the balcony sweeping up needles and dirt, we are Christmas-tree free again.
Alas. Oh Christmas tree. Thy leaves are so unchanging.
Saturday, March 23, 2019
Saturday, March 16, 2019
The choices we make
We ended up at a neighbour's house for dinner. They live one unit across and up. There is no lift (elevator) in our complex. They claim that climbing the stairs and not owning a car has kept them feeling young and healthy, late into their 70s, and I don't doubt it. That's the life that Tim and I want, too, growing old.
But they report that their friends, the ones who didn't choose the life without a car at the top of the stairs, those friends aren't feeling young and healthy. They have friends who can't visit them for dinner anymore, because the friends can't climb the three flights of stairs. And so after looking around at their friends, our neighbours have decided to move, to give up the unit where their family grew old, and take a place on the ground floor.
I've been thinking a lot about how our choices affect the people we spend time with.
It is hard to make friends, and most people have networks of friends and family already where they live. We don't. And we made our choices knowing that we wouldn't, and we don't regret any of our decisions. But when one is the only one making certain choices -- even though one knows those choices are the best choices -- one can still get a little lonely.
Anyone want to come over for dinner?
But they report that their friends, the ones who didn't choose the life without a car at the top of the stairs, those friends aren't feeling young and healthy. They have friends who can't visit them for dinner anymore, because the friends can't climb the three flights of stairs. And so after looking around at their friends, our neighbours have decided to move, to give up the unit where their family grew old, and take a place on the ground floor.
I've been thinking a lot about how our choices affect the people we spend time with.
It is hard to make friends, and most people have networks of friends and family already where they live. We don't. And we made our choices knowing that we wouldn't, and we don't regret any of our decisions. But when one is the only one making certain choices -- even though one knows those choices are the best choices -- one can still get a little lonely.
Anyone want to come over for dinner?
Saturday, March 2, 2019
Heat wave!
Yesterday was the official first day of autumn, because recall that first days of seasons here are governed by the calendar and not by the equinox or solstices. But, probably to make up for a few chilly days earlier in February, summer has decided to take a last fling, with highs stretching up to 37C for a few days (around 95-100F).
Me, I love the heat. I love giving my summer clothes another week of wear. I love opening the windows late at night and smelling the summer air blow in, cool and scented. I love having bare feet and warm toes all at the same time. I love the sound of the lorikeets screaming with joy early in the morning.
But this is one of the weeks of the "exchange" part of the French exchange program that Jonathan signed up for. That is, we have a little European boy (LEB) staying with us. For the three weeks he is in Melbourne, we are supposed to be showing him around, helping him learn English, and seeing all the good things that Melbourne has to offer.
Of course, Melbourne has a lot of good things to offer. But most of the things we take people to see are outdoors. Last Sunday, when the temperature was only 30C (that's only 86F), we took him to Federation Square for a festival. He was melting. We had been off the tram for five minutes, when he ducked away from us into a patch of shade, pulled out his water bottle, and took a long swig. He had just come from European winter, which is cold (near freezing every day), and even his (northern) European summers don't often break 25C. But to me, 30C is the perfect temperature. Warm but not hot, sun-on-the-skin type of weather.
We left the square and ducked into the movie and video games museum, and spent a couple of hours there instead where the air conditioning ran freely.
So this weekend, it is 37C, which pretty much means we can't do anything outside. We've looked into museums, but the exchange group will be going to our favourite ones as a group as part of their excursions. I thought maybe we could go to a movie, but there isn't much playing. Tim suggested holing up in the public library, where the air conditioning runs on taxpayer funded dollars. That could work, if the LEB would be satisfied hanging out quietly in a building full of words in a language he is only beginning to understand. Of course there are comic books. Manga. And a shelf of French novels, but they mostly look like serious things written for French adults, boring to me.
To make things even more complicated, last week Jonathan's geology class spent five days on a camp at the coast. Jonathan love love loved it. But that meant he was away and Tim and I were trying to entertain the exchange student on our own in the heat. Luckily, Jonathan is now back. We dragged LEB to Jonathan's ice skating lesson yesterday evening, and payed for public skating for all of us. LEB had never been skating, but he was determined and learned quickly, and was gliding around slowly by the end of an hour, with only one painful looking fall. And the ice skating rink was also gloriously cold, payed for by outrageous public skating fees that we were happy to fork over. That was a success.
But what to do this afternoon? Probably it's not the day for a pleasant walk through the botanic gardens. Nor even a hike through the temperate rain forest on the far edge of the train line. Maybe the beach? Except with no shade at all, it seems like a bad idea to take LEB there. We'll probably take him to the end of the pier at dusk to see the penguins, in spite of the fact that it is predicted to be 32C at 8pm, after sunset. But Saturday afternoon? Sunday afternoon?
Good luck to us.
Me, I love the heat. I love giving my summer clothes another week of wear. I love opening the windows late at night and smelling the summer air blow in, cool and scented. I love having bare feet and warm toes all at the same time. I love the sound of the lorikeets screaming with joy early in the morning.
But this is one of the weeks of the "exchange" part of the French exchange program that Jonathan signed up for. That is, we have a little European boy (LEB) staying with us. For the three weeks he is in Melbourne, we are supposed to be showing him around, helping him learn English, and seeing all the good things that Melbourne has to offer.
Of course, Melbourne has a lot of good things to offer. But most of the things we take people to see are outdoors. Last Sunday, when the temperature was only 30C (that's only 86F), we took him to Federation Square for a festival. He was melting. We had been off the tram for five minutes, when he ducked away from us into a patch of shade, pulled out his water bottle, and took a long swig. He had just come from European winter, which is cold (near freezing every day), and even his (northern) European summers don't often break 25C. But to me, 30C is the perfect temperature. Warm but not hot, sun-on-the-skin type of weather.
We left the square and ducked into the movie and video games museum, and spent a couple of hours there instead where the air conditioning ran freely.
So this weekend, it is 37C, which pretty much means we can't do anything outside. We've looked into museums, but the exchange group will be going to our favourite ones as a group as part of their excursions. I thought maybe we could go to a movie, but there isn't much playing. Tim suggested holing up in the public library, where the air conditioning runs on taxpayer funded dollars. That could work, if the LEB would be satisfied hanging out quietly in a building full of words in a language he is only beginning to understand. Of course there are comic books. Manga. And a shelf of French novels, but they mostly look like serious things written for French adults, boring to me.
To make things even more complicated, last week Jonathan's geology class spent five days on a camp at the coast. Jonathan love love loved it. But that meant he was away and Tim and I were trying to entertain the exchange student on our own in the heat. Luckily, Jonathan is now back. We dragged LEB to Jonathan's ice skating lesson yesterday evening, and payed for public skating for all of us. LEB had never been skating, but he was determined and learned quickly, and was gliding around slowly by the end of an hour, with only one painful looking fall. And the ice skating rink was also gloriously cold, payed for by outrageous public skating fees that we were happy to fork over. That was a success.
But what to do this afternoon? Probably it's not the day for a pleasant walk through the botanic gardens. Nor even a hike through the temperate rain forest on the far edge of the train line. Maybe the beach? Except with no shade at all, it seems like a bad idea to take LEB there. We'll probably take him to the end of the pier at dusk to see the penguins, in spite of the fact that it is predicted to be 32C at 8pm, after sunset. But Saturday afternoon? Sunday afternoon?
Good luck to us.
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