Time of the Cicada

The recent muggy summer days have been filled with the haunting, prehistoric sound of the cicadas. I've heard them out my window in Washington Heights, on bicycle rides through the leafy lanes of the Bronx and Central Park, and on strolls through lower Manhattan. At times the sound is omnipresent and deafening.

The song of the cicadas is the sound of summer--its creaking timbre immediately conjures memories of the hot dog days of July and August. The hotter the day the louder the song.

But now, inevitably, the days are cooling off and getting shorter. And the cicadas are singing less and less. But I can still hear them in my mind; and that memory will warm me during the cold winter.

One Year Later

I began this blog a year ago tomorrow. It seems hard to believe--so much water under the bridge-but it is true.

A year ago I was hurriedly preparing to move to London for five months.

"The last few days have been hectic with packing and preparing our New York apartment for my departure. Furniture is being covered..."

A lot of that living room furniture is gone. When we returned last November we gave the living room a long overdue renovation: new paint, new furniture, new layout.

"...plants are being farmed out to neighbors..."

All but two plants left in the care of our neighbor died while we were abroad. Actually, they were murdered--left to die in the back patio when the frosts of November came. Our trusted neighbor, having had several spats with the co-op board, decided to take his revenge on our houseplants. I had chosen this guy to care for our green friends because he loved plants and animals--he had a real green thumb--and was a vegetarian. He turned out to be a petty plant killer. What does one call plant murder? Botanicide?

"...and the refrigerator cleaned out. I must be truly mentally ill: I found five opened jars of salsa in the fridge with varying dates of expiration and amounts of remaining salsa. In addition there were several nearly empty jars of old preserves at the back. Why? I vow to live more simply and efficiently."

Well, the ice box is full, but not as crammed as it had been. Levels of salsa and preserves are under control. Still, I threw out several pieces of cheese last evening that were like bricks! Simplicity takes diligence!