the pondering pomegranate: March 2014

i promise you, this is not a subversive advertising campaign for Cameron Village. though it is one of the many landmarks that tell me i am almost 'home' (or, at least, approaching my parents' house). first, there's the Wade Avenue exit off of I-40. most cars head left, to continue north around the city. i am always glad to be one of the cars headed right, getting off of the craziness that is big city (for our state) traffic. at the top of the hill, i pass Quail Ridge Books (which must be heavily funded by my parents' reading habits). then the roller coaster-like rises and dips of the street as i head east towards the university. i have so many memories of this place. but not this one.

my hometown (i'll claim it, even though i could possibly claim Poughkeepsie, New York, or St. Andrews, Scotland, as other heavily featured cities of my childhood.) has become a popular relocation destination since my family moved there in 1979. well-known universities and medical centers, a solid technology industry, great weather, decent cost of living. it's a good place to be. but, my, has it grown! when i officially left in 1993, i pretty much knew my way around - maybe not around the suburbs, but around the city, for sure. now even what i knew like the back of my hand has morphed into this dense, urban environment. driving down the usual gateway to my parents' neighborhood now has me going through a cavern of condominiums. they are starting to surround the neighborhood, which was developed in the early years of the 1900's, on all sides. and Cameron Village is like an exotic (and expensive) flower garden.

which is quite a change from when i carefully crossed through the shopping center back in the early 80's. my best friend lived on the other side of the Village, and i would frequently make the trip between our houses. the shopping center was not a place you particularly wanted to linger, especially the down-in-the-dumps movie theater (which is now a K&W). there were rumors about what kind of films were shown there. but i do have fond memories of the little tiny library, the Big Star grocery store, Baskin-Robbins (which, amazingly, is still right where it's always been), using the escalator in one of the department stores (part of which is now the Junior League Bargain Box), my first (and completely unsuccessful) job at The Party Shop (which, i think, is also still there). i was too young to have hung out at the Underground, but i remember, once or twice, walking around its subterranean world.

this time in, i stopped at the Harris Teeter (which, long ago, bought all the Big Stars) to pick up a couple of things. and saw a woman on one of the aisles wearing a sweatshirt emblazoned with a picture of my high school. it's funny to think of people for whom that is very much the Present. where, for me, it is in the long-ago Past.

and, then, i was home.

when i come home, if i am not bringing the rest of my family, i usually get to sleep on the upstairs back porch, which i love. my mother is a re-arranger, so this room has served a variety of functions over the years. it became my bedroom when i left for college, and the tongue&groove ceiling was covered with posters stuck with blu-tack. there are still faint greasy circles on the paint. it is a great little room with three walls of windows. an addition when the house was updated prior to our arrival in 1979.

needlework by my maternal grandmother

my mom is a Creator of Spaces. tableaus. mini-altars.

this is the landing, the pause between upstairs & down.

where our dog used to hang out,

her front paws and nose hanging over the edge.

where i could hang out, halfway between adult world & child,

when my parents had dinner parties.

i know exactly where the wood creaks

and where to step

on the old stairs.

books & art feature prominently in my childhood home

near the front door of 1810.

our white lab used to be the rather ferocious announcer of guests, steaming up the sidelights of the front door with her breath. now, my parents have an old metal bell, which you pull to ring your arrival. so much more decorous (rest in peace, Tosca).

Cabinet of Ancestry.

old books (one of which is A Quaker Forty-Niner, a family history edited by my paternal grandmother's aunt)
& old photos.

i love them all.

(my father was proud to report
that he had just polished
his mother's tea service.)

then there is the garden.
the camellia jungle.
and the birds, birds, birds!

it is hard to believe this house is in such an urban location; it looks and sounds like an arboretum.

two of many birdfeeders

when i'm home, i get to spend time with people i love.

like my dad.

and my mom.

and one of my aunts.

my mom's older sister.

we share a birthday, she and i.


knitting hands. that have, previously, been potter hands and drafting hands.

& my dearest long-time friend.

she's about to join me in completing her forty-fourth year.

or, as i like to look at it, we're halfway to double-infinity.

mine is a family of do-ers. what are you doing? what did you do? what are you planning on doing? we like mulling over our options & keeping our calendars full. even if half of it is only wishful thinking. so, when i'm home, we DO. and we do it with great excitement! joy! anticipation! & humor, of course.

ooooh! mica!

at the Gem&Mineral show, fairgrounds.

octopi carved from moose antlers!

trilobites - and, around the corner, coprolite (look it up)

it was a drizzly day, so most of the fairground flea market had not materialized. except for two large trailers of essential metal doodads. in which everyone was greatly interested. including myself.

we are definitely not cat people (i've always been allergic to them, anyway - which the cats seem to know, as they typically end up trying to leap into my lap. i think my disinterest in them is incredibly appealing.), but there was a Cat Fanciers show at the fairgrounds, which we thought sounded remotely interesting. so we trekked around the fairgrounds, in the drizzle & wind, trying to find those cats. after a bit of wandering, building to building, my mom decided to ask a passing family - where, oh, where were the cats? the man leaned in, intent on understanding her question, which she repeated. he smiled and said he had to listen to her closely because (pointing to the throngs of people nearby), he said, this was a gathering of Cat(holics). and he wanted to make sure he had not misheard her. he was sorry, but he didn't know where the actual cats were. we eventually did find them - and a relatively hefty admission price for people not particularly excited about cats, so we turned it into a lovely walk reminiscent of cool and drizzly Scotland. and headed to the art museum!

still straightening his collar after forty-eight years.

the new art museum addition

say 'cheese!'

i had read about this artist & didn't realize

our state's art museum was displaying any of his work.

pounded bottle caps, recycled labels, stitch-stapeled together.

i've, of course, been visiting our state art museum since it was housed in a small space downtown long ago. in its old-new space (not to be confused with the new-new space), i always liked this piece of art. it is visually pleasing to me, its rhythmic lines and loops.

buttons! some of my favorite things! (confession: i hoard them instead of sewing them back on when they fall off. which may be, actually, pure laziness rather than any latent artistic plans for them.) i think this artist once had a series of his Sound Suits displayed at one of the art museums in my current hometown, too. fantastic!