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dolorosa_12) wrote2023-05-21 03:21 pm
dolorosa_12) wrote2023-05-21 03:21 pm
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To reach the farthest star
This morning, the swimming pool was filled with the most glorious light, and moving forward through the water felt like swimming in sunshine. Summer is most definitely in the air, and every household in our row of terraces has had laundry hung outside on the washing lines, people mowing the lawn or doing other gardening work, or people lighting up the barbecue for dinner. Or, in the case of our household, all three. The air smells deliciously of barbecue smoke, and cut grass.
Matthias and I made the most of the sunshine — a couple of drinks in the terrace garden of our favourite local bar/cafe on Friday night, Saturday afternoon spent in the suntrap garden of the bakery, the aforementioned barbecue dinner eaten outside on our deck under the fruit trees on Saturday, and lunch today at the food/bar/coffee cart outdoor venue run by the people who also run the town's main coffee roasters and bagel bar. The sun and warmth and general presence of other people has been extremely restorative.
I can feel my cooking adapting to suit the season — wild garlic pesto stirred through some spaghetti with olive oil, loads of grilled vegetables and halloumi on the barbecue, this potato and asparagus salad, scrambled eggs stirred through with herbs from the garden. It feels like a neverending feast, an abundance of greenery.
I've spent most of this afternoon reading, completely engrossed in my current book, The Stars Undying (Emery Robin), a space opera retelling of the story of Julius Caesar and Cleopatra, reminiscent in some ways of Arkady Martine's A Memory Called Empire. Some of the characters have been genderswapped (Mark Antony is now a loyal soldier called Anita, for example, and the Caesar analogue is married to another man), and things have been adapted to make sense in an empire that spans a galaxy rather than several continents, but a lot of the joy of the book is those flashes of recognition when you see how Robin has remade certain familiar players in this geopolitical melodrama. It's a story not just about power, but also about that strange sense of belief that certain people possess — that when something is wrong, they alone can fix it, and can only fix it by accumulating as much power as possible and warping the world (or indeed the entire galaxy) to serve their own power. And it's about what happens when two people, both possessing this same relentless drive for power, masquerading even in their own minds as a way to fix the problems of the world, crash up against each other — and the consequences. I love it, but I have a strong suspicion it's the sort of thing you're best placed to love if your knowledge of the final days of the Roman Republic and the early days of the Roman Empire is entirely pop cultural.
I had hoped to read more, but the glorious weather conspired against me, and I can't really be disappointed in that. I feel like some kind of flowering tree creature, emerging in a cascade of petals and bees and green leaves into the light, and the warmth, at last.
Matthias and I made the most of the sunshine — a couple of drinks in the terrace garden of our favourite local bar/cafe on Friday night, Saturday afternoon spent in the suntrap garden of the bakery, the aforementioned barbecue dinner eaten outside on our deck under the fruit trees on Saturday, and lunch today at the food/bar/coffee cart outdoor venue run by the people who also run the town's main coffee roasters and bagel bar. The sun and warmth and general presence of other people has been extremely restorative.
I can feel my cooking adapting to suit the season — wild garlic pesto stirred through some spaghetti with olive oil, loads of grilled vegetables and halloumi on the barbecue, this potato and asparagus salad, scrambled eggs stirred through with herbs from the garden. It feels like a neverending feast, an abundance of greenery.
I've spent most of this afternoon reading, completely engrossed in my current book, The Stars Undying (Emery Robin), a space opera retelling of the story of Julius Caesar and Cleopatra, reminiscent in some ways of Arkady Martine's A Memory Called Empire. Some of the characters have been genderswapped (Mark Antony is now a loyal soldier called Anita, for example, and the Caesar analogue is married to another man), and things have been adapted to make sense in an empire that spans a galaxy rather than several continents, but a lot of the joy of the book is those flashes of recognition when you see how Robin has remade certain familiar players in this geopolitical melodrama. It's a story not just about power, but also about that strange sense of belief that certain people possess — that when something is wrong, they alone can fix it, and can only fix it by accumulating as much power as possible and warping the world (or indeed the entire galaxy) to serve their own power. And it's about what happens when two people, both possessing this same relentless drive for power, masquerading even in their own minds as a way to fix the problems of the world, crash up against each other — and the consequences. I love it, but I have a strong suspicion it's the sort of thing you're best placed to love if your knowledge of the final days of the Roman Republic and the early days of the Roman Empire is entirely pop cultural.
I had hoped to read more, but the glorious weather conspired against me, and I can't really be disappointed in that. I feel like some kind of flowering tree creature, emerging in a cascade of petals and bees and green leaves into the light, and the warmth, at last.
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On a SUNDAY?
That would be unthinkable in my mom's neighbourhood.
I'm happy you had a great day, it sounds glorious!<3
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Yeah, the UK is really different to Germany in this regard, that's for sure! Loud gardening or vacuum cleaning is totally fine on a Sunday, and indeed tends to be the norm. (Although some of the lawn mowing was happening yesterday as well.)
I'm happy you had a great day, it sounds glorious!
Thanks! It definitely was a lot of fun.
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Meanwhile, the first signs of summer here have me scurrying indoors and staying there as much as is humanly possible!
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Thank you, and so true! I think I reacted so strongly because all this had been preceded by three weeks in Australia, where, although it was autumn, it was very warm, and people were very much still living their lives outdoors (as is the case in much of Australia for the bulk of the year).
Meanwhile, the first signs of summer here have me scurrying indoors and staying there as much as is humanly possible!
I don't blame you!
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I swam outside for the first time on Monday at the lake. That was glorous.
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