As usual, spring sprung here in the Coastal Empire slightly before its calendar designation and we Southerners were enjoying mild temperatures and early blooms in late Feb./early Mar., much to the envy of my friends and relatives living in less hospitable regions of the nation and world. There were beach trips and tank tops and a collective smugness stemming fr. the understanding that we are, truly, more climatalogically blessed than the majority of the Northern Hemisphere at this time of yr.
Perhaps to chastise us for our perennial March hubris, Mother Nature dealt a bitterly surprising blow just before the official first day of Spring -- below average temperatures, rain, and wind. And this continued for more than a wk. All floral developments halted: the blooms drooping in frozen confusion, buds cautiously opened only part-way as if to protect their delicate, still-folded blossoms while peeking out persistently, expecting more encouraging temperatures to arrive at any moment. The grass was left pathetically mottled, varying between its dull, brittle brown winter palate and its tentative, freshly verdant change. Sweaters were hastily retrieved fr. their new haphazard home in the won't-need-this-for-months corner of the closet, the coat was grudgingly removed fr. the closet where it had been most happily consigned only two wks. before, and, most painfully, the flip-flops were left unattended for ten long days. We even saw snow when Eli and I went to Biltmore this weekend (in fact, it snowed nearly all weekend, but v. little collected, except on the higher peaks).
Bemusement turned to irritation turned to desolation as the temperatures remained low and the machinery of Spring ground to a halt, leaving us to wonder if perhaps we had lost the one sure bet we had in the ongoing war b/t North and South -- weather. Even our normally warm, friendly dispositions and impeccable manners (both of which are also points for us in the aforementioned struggle) suffered as we chafed under the unwelcome weight of jackets and trousers and mourned the apparent loss of our environmental blessing. The fact that it was warmer last w/e in Boston than it was in Charleston was like pouring salt into the gaping, excruciating wound to our Southern pride.
Enhancing my own dolorous outlook on the situation was Ft. Stewpid's decision to initiate "controlled burns" thoroughout the forest that lines abt. 25 miles of the road I travel every day to and from school. I understand that these thgs. are supposed to beneficial for the growth and help prevent large, uncontrolled fires, but a) I'm just not convinced, and b) it looks really ugly and makes me sad to pass these smoldering carcasses of trees and plants that have been there for a long time and/or have provided a stabilizing natural beauty that has often made the difference b/t me arriving home in a good mood or me still being anxious/irritated/upset abt. school. Further, for some reason, they have started clearing large areas of the forest close to the back gate of the main garrison. I don't know why they're doing this; they can't build a range b/c there's a lake in the middle and I don't know why they would be constructing a building *outside* of post that would be so large as this lot would indicate.
So last wk. I was driving home fr. school, irritated b/c I had to run the heat (b/c it was cold outside when it should be warm) in my car and I couldn't get it to an ideal, or even comfortable, temperature -- I was either baking or I was chilled. I entered the slashed and burnt remnants of the forest and became even more put out. I then came upon the area that is being cleared and wished more than anythg. else that I did not live where I live now. And then, time slowed for just a few moments and I looked to my right and saw, in the midst of the destruction and seasonal interruption, a flowering tree in full bloom. I mean, full on -- branches barely discernable through the blanket of white petals illuminated nearly to gold by the sunlight streaming in from behind them, this lone holdout against all the odds, natural and man-made, a pocket of beauty tucked amongst ruin and disappointment.
Incomprehensibly, indefatigably beautiful.
On a more pedestrian note, some of you know that I went to Universal Studios in Orlando, FL a couple of wks. ago w/my friend Jennifer, Eli, and our friend Michael. Jennifer and I are among the best travel buddies ever. We are uber-efficient in our sight-seeing (we made it through both Universal and Islands of Adventure in nine hrs., inc. an hr. break for lunch), we are v. good at avoiding the most pernicious of tourist traps, we play fun car games, AND we can *always* find a deal on our hotel and activity costs. More than this, though, we both share an almost obsessive love of funnel cakes. (For those of you not familiar w/this culinary delight, it is fried sweet dough covered in powdered sugar, almost like a doughnut, but better and not nearly the same shape. Funnel cakes are squiggly.) The best places to buy funnel cakes are fairs, carnivals, and amusement parks. This being the case, Jennifer and I went in w/the unspoken understanding that at some point during our day at Universal, we were having a funnel cake, regardless of cost, facility cleanliness, queue length, or fat content. So imagine our disappointment when, after a good four hrs. in the park, we had yet to see any funnel cake. No stands, no one carrying some, no tell-tale smudges of powdered sugars on anyone's faces/shirts/hair, nothg.
We were standing in the serpentine line for the Jaws ride lamenting this fact (after marvelling at the numerous beer kiosks) when we looked over into the line moving past ours and we saw...a girl carrying a half-eaten funnel cake!! B/C I have no ability to censor myself when I get really excited abt. smthg. like this, I exclaim to this unsuspecting stranger, "WHERE did you get that funnel cake?!?" She laughs and says, with an English accent (of course), "I got it just over there at a little stand. But to be honest, this may sound a bit weird, but I'm not going to finish this -- do you want it?" I look at Jennifer and I hesitate just long enough to think to myself, "Of course she's not going to finish it, she's British and that is SUCH an American food item, oh, she's going to think I am a stupid, fat American if I take it," and, "Nan (my germ-phobic grandmother) would have a fit if she knew I was going to take half-consumed food fr. a stranger, which could be poisoned" [flash to ever-so-brief mental image of severe abdominal cramping and Eli saying he told me so]. Despite these flashes of decorum, concern for safety, and paranoia, I readily accepted the proffered funnel cake, after which Jennifer said, "I would have told her yes if you hadn't." See, perfect travel buddies!
We immediately set abt. decimating our found food and I think the British girl was a little appalled and probably scared when we passed her in line again less than five mins. later and the whole thg. was gone. Seriously -- Michael timed it -- it was smthg. like 3.5 mins. We saw the lady several times later in the day and she v. purposefully avoided our still-grateful smiles. I'm quite certain that she was thinking we were some bipedal breed of pig.
Oh, yeah -- Quote of the Day: "I can jump fences like a mutha-fucka." -- Jay, on his days as a gang-banger. heh.
Perhaps to chastise us for our perennial March hubris, Mother Nature dealt a bitterly surprising blow just before the official first day of Spring -- below average temperatures, rain, and wind. And this continued for more than a wk. All floral developments halted: the blooms drooping in frozen confusion, buds cautiously opened only part-way as if to protect their delicate, still-folded blossoms while peeking out persistently, expecting more encouraging temperatures to arrive at any moment. The grass was left pathetically mottled, varying between its dull, brittle brown winter palate and its tentative, freshly verdant change. Sweaters were hastily retrieved fr. their new haphazard home in the won't-need-this-for-months corner of the closet, the coat was grudgingly removed fr. the closet where it had been most happily consigned only two wks. before, and, most painfully, the flip-flops were left unattended for ten long days. We even saw snow when Eli and I went to Biltmore this weekend (in fact, it snowed nearly all weekend, but v. little collected, except on the higher peaks).
Bemusement turned to irritation turned to desolation as the temperatures remained low and the machinery of Spring ground to a halt, leaving us to wonder if perhaps we had lost the one sure bet we had in the ongoing war b/t North and South -- weather. Even our normally warm, friendly dispositions and impeccable manners (both of which are also points for us in the aforementioned struggle) suffered as we chafed under the unwelcome weight of jackets and trousers and mourned the apparent loss of our environmental blessing. The fact that it was warmer last w/e in Boston than it was in Charleston was like pouring salt into the gaping, excruciating wound to our Southern pride.
Enhancing my own dolorous outlook on the situation was Ft. Stewpid's decision to initiate "controlled burns" thoroughout the forest that lines abt. 25 miles of the road I travel every day to and from school. I understand that these thgs. are supposed to beneficial for the growth and help prevent large, uncontrolled fires, but a) I'm just not convinced, and b) it looks really ugly and makes me sad to pass these smoldering carcasses of trees and plants that have been there for a long time and/or have provided a stabilizing natural beauty that has often made the difference b/t me arriving home in a good mood or me still being anxious/irritated/upset abt. school. Further, for some reason, they have started clearing large areas of the forest close to the back gate of the main garrison. I don't know why they're doing this; they can't build a range b/c there's a lake in the middle and I don't know why they would be constructing a building *outside* of post that would be so large as this lot would indicate.
So last wk. I was driving home fr. school, irritated b/c I had to run the heat (b/c it was cold outside when it should be warm) in my car and I couldn't get it to an ideal, or even comfortable, temperature -- I was either baking or I was chilled. I entered the slashed and burnt remnants of the forest and became even more put out. I then came upon the area that is being cleared and wished more than anythg. else that I did not live where I live now. And then, time slowed for just a few moments and I looked to my right and saw, in the midst of the destruction and seasonal interruption, a flowering tree in full bloom. I mean, full on -- branches barely discernable through the blanket of white petals illuminated nearly to gold by the sunlight streaming in from behind them, this lone holdout against all the odds, natural and man-made, a pocket of beauty tucked amongst ruin and disappointment.
Incomprehensibly, indefatigably beautiful.
On a more pedestrian note, some of you know that I went to Universal Studios in Orlando, FL a couple of wks. ago w/my friend Jennifer, Eli, and our friend Michael. Jennifer and I are among the best travel buddies ever. We are uber-efficient in our sight-seeing (we made it through both Universal and Islands of Adventure in nine hrs., inc. an hr. break for lunch), we are v. good at avoiding the most pernicious of tourist traps, we play fun car games, AND we can *always* find a deal on our hotel and activity costs. More than this, though, we both share an almost obsessive love of funnel cakes. (For those of you not familiar w/this culinary delight, it is fried sweet dough covered in powdered sugar, almost like a doughnut, but better and not nearly the same shape. Funnel cakes are squiggly.) The best places to buy funnel cakes are fairs, carnivals, and amusement parks. This being the case, Jennifer and I went in w/the unspoken understanding that at some point during our day at Universal, we were having a funnel cake, regardless of cost, facility cleanliness, queue length, or fat content. So imagine our disappointment when, after a good four hrs. in the park, we had yet to see any funnel cake. No stands, no one carrying some, no tell-tale smudges of powdered sugars on anyone's faces/shirts/hair, nothg.
We were standing in the serpentine line for the Jaws ride lamenting this fact (after marvelling at the numerous beer kiosks) when we looked over into the line moving past ours and we saw...a girl carrying a half-eaten funnel cake!! B/C I have no ability to censor myself when I get really excited abt. smthg. like this, I exclaim to this unsuspecting stranger, "WHERE did you get that funnel cake?!?" She laughs and says, with an English accent (of course), "I got it just over there at a little stand. But to be honest, this may sound a bit weird, but I'm not going to finish this -- do you want it?" I look at Jennifer and I hesitate just long enough to think to myself, "Of course she's not going to finish it, she's British and that is SUCH an American food item, oh, she's going to think I am a stupid, fat American if I take it," and, "Nan (my germ-phobic grandmother) would have a fit if she knew I was going to take half-consumed food fr. a stranger, which could be poisoned" [flash to ever-so-brief mental image of severe abdominal cramping and Eli saying he told me so]. Despite these flashes of decorum, concern for safety, and paranoia, I readily accepted the proffered funnel cake, after which Jennifer said, "I would have told her yes if you hadn't." See, perfect travel buddies!
We immediately set abt. decimating our found food and I think the British girl was a little appalled and probably scared when we passed her in line again less than five mins. later and the whole thg. was gone. Seriously -- Michael timed it -- it was smthg. like 3.5 mins. We saw the lady several times later in the day and she v. purposefully avoided our still-grateful smiles. I'm quite certain that she was thinking we were some bipedal breed of pig.
Oh, yeah -- Quote of the Day: "I can jump fences like a mutha-fucka." -- Jay, on his days as a gang-banger. heh.
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