There it is bouncing off my northeast facing balcony…The Sun. It is spring up here on floor 17 and I’ve moved one pot of future flowers outside where they sit on a long gray bench From Design Within Reach. In the winter it supports multiple pots on the other side of the glass patio expanse. I’m here to tell you that succulents of the potted kind stand at least a chance of surviving in Milwaukee’s gray gray winters if they are nurtured inside. So far though, I don’t see a hint of blooms on my moth orchids, one of which was given to me five years ago. Perhaps I’m rushing things. It usually sends out signals in early May and glorifies my unit until November when it morphs back to sticks anchored by glossy green leaves. The lobby below me features an ever-green fake plant
We all have our “spring rituals,” for example rearranging our respective nests, and sucking up dust bunnies under stuff we move. I’ve got that out of the way. My bed has been moved (the room is small), and a chair positioned so as to better view the splendid lake and (soon) McKinley Marina alive with diverse boats. The lagoon, it appears, is ice-free. Near my bedroom chair is T.C. Boyle’s Drop City, a tale about a California commune, circa 1970. I missed out on the fun even though I more or less stopped wearing a bra and bought a pair of leather pants and had my hair frizzed into a huge Afro, followed by Bo Derek beads strung on my braids. I was a genuine faux hippie.
Today my stereo blasts forthwith the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra playing Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, Piano Concerto in F, and An American in Paris. Conductor Andre Previn tickles the ivories and Klavier. Yes, the same Andre who was once wed to Mia Farrow in the long ago. Mia of the sheared locks later wed Woody Allen, and we know how that ended. Anyway, I love this compilation of tunes. It’s so hopeful and “American” and perfect as we head hopefully into another season.
Alas, the mornings remain chilly, so before writing my next condomania, I have my java in front of my gas fireplace.
Today my tax forms arrived from my longtime accountant who dwells way out in Brookfield. My total rebate is $6, which reminds me that somewhere I read about an April Fools joke wherein the government decided to send monies back to taxpayers….in the form of consumer goods, thus making sure the returned savings would be “spent properly.” I’m waiting to see what I’ll get in lieu of $6.
Yesterday I purchased a hula-hoop covered in sparkly paper. I propped it up in my west facing window, and it gives the effect of viewing the far Kettle Moraine ridge as if through a porthole punched into a cruise ship’s side. Soon I’ll be able to lower the top on my baby blue T-Bird, the skin of which, the birds of spring have dappled with shit…a word I would never have used a decade ago.
But then again…it’s spring. Anything goes.
