Here and There

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Lillian Austin

This rose is blooming in the garden now, planted in a half-barrel. Alongside it are some rogue sunflowers that the squirrel planted. (We have a squirrel, just one funny guy who buries peanuts and seeds all over our yard, and gets chased by small birds.) The rose is very ruffly, and very fragrant. Pretty charming rose, just like Miss L.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

X Files

I had X Files trading cards for a time. I think my sister helped me organize them in a binder. (Wait, did I do that on my own? I don't really think I could have, but I know that I had a binder...Erin, do you remember this?)

I liked watching X Files on Friday nights, then Sunday nights. It was a fun weekly thing. For awhile folks would come to the big red house to watch...right up till the last episode.

I think I liked the trading cards because some were holograms and I love anything that has a hologram.

I was just thinking I'd like to get X Files on the queue so that I could watch it all from start to finish. The funny thing is, I don't like scary shows. I cannot stand Law and Order or any kind of crime drama and I don't like sci fi at all really. But it seems like The Wire is the exception to the crime drama rule and X Files is the exception to the sci fi rule.

Now, I see there's going to be a new X Files movie. Sounds fun to me. I like Mulder and Scully and will be glad to see them together again, I wonder if Scully's alien baby will make an appearance.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008


Lilacs are old fashioned. Like certain cocktails and wearing hats with little feathers and veils.

Lilacs smell shockingly purple. Like grape Bubble Yum bubble gum to a degree. I have thought long and hard about how to describe the smell, but I just can't quite nail it down. Like many things, it smells how it looks: purple, grape-y, over the top. The way the small flowers shake it all out to be this purple fountain on a branch. The way the small buds at the end of the spray of blooms look like beads.

Lilacs are soft. Like an embroidered pillow slip.

I always imagine them outside a somewhat peeling white farmhouse against a somewhat peeling white fence. Lanky grey trunks, heart shaped leaves, and the purple. Lady of the house with gloves, calling cards, walking by them to go out. Same lady, worn apron and a basket in the early morning, snipping a few for her table, for her spare room.

Lilacs are candy-sweet. Like the swags on a tall cake. Swoop, rosette, swoop. They are perfect swoops.

So sentimental. Even though they weren't mentioned I'm sure they were there amid the heliotrope and sunflowers in Mrs. Gibbs' garden in Our Town. Making Emily gasp and wonder along with the rest of it. They just have that quality.

I have two small lilac bushes. Can't really be called bushes yet. They are only about a foot and a half tall and this is only their second spring. But they'll grow, I can tell they have that enduring quality of their farmhouse ancestors.