Libraries

Being in the library is part of my job. I teach students how to use libraries and how to use what they find there. I order things we need. I lament things we don't have. Every once in a great while, I have time all to myself to actually use a good library for my own purposes. Saturday, I spent three heavenly hours in the CCM library. I was finishing up my Oxford Bibliography (motet article), and there were a few things I just had to see. But while I was there, I found so many things in the stacks that begged to be taken off the shelves and examined. I complied. I must have loaded my table three times in the short time I was there. When I finished a stack, I'd move it to the table next door and it would vanish. I used some old friends that I haven't had access to for a long time (Ludwig's Repertorium organorum recentioris for instance). Every time I have a day or half day there, I remember what it feels like to work so fluidly--to have a thought and be able to immediately follow it, resolve it, and move to the next one. To discover new sources and where they lead. To be able to pluck a score from the shelf and understand a piece of music on the spot.

This is the problem with having to rely on interlibrary loan, 24-hour retrieval, and UBORROW. It's not fluid. Ideas are jammed up for days and weeks. When the materials arrive, the moment has passed, and sometimes the idea has just withered. And I understand why it takes so long to finish most of my projects.

But this is just reality. My main purpose in writing about my day is simply to celebrate those wonderful few hours where everything is at hand and that wonderful access makes all the juices flow. It's one way of being fully alive, and I am grateful for those times.

Priorities and Phases

My daughter Alison told me that her friend Lianne shared this saying: "We will always have time for the things we put first."

 Life is full of different phases; it's just like having children. Once you figure out how to deal with the one you're in right now, it ends, and you have to figure out the next one. Most of my life it seems like I have had to work until sometime past the middle of the night to get my work done--dissertation, class preparation, etc. After a few decades of that, I noticed that my sleep habits were terrible. And I was tired. Also worried about the brain cells that insufficient sleep is supposed to suck up; I figure I don't have any brain cells to spare.

 But I finally figured out how to deal with this phase: do my own work first. Not class prep, not grading, not dishes, email, grocery shopping, bathroom cleaning, laundry. Not personal grooming, breakfast, writing bills, checking my bank balance, or straightening my desk so that I can work. This is what I do: Leave my lap top on at night. Wake up in the morning, pray, make a cup of ginger tea, sit on my office couch with my laptop on my lap and write. I write until I'm too hungry to sit there any longer, my battery dies, or it is time to go teach. Then I start the rest of the day--breakfast and onward.

The result: I think about my book every day, pages are being completed, and I have plenty of time for everything else. It's just like that object lesson with the mayonaise jar and the big rocks, small pebbles, sand, and liquid (officially beer, but in my world, perhaps ginger tea). If you put the biggest things in first, everything else fits. I feel so happy about this. And I realize that what I've been planning all along is working out: all the conference papers I have been giving are sliding right into my book, just as I had imagined--not in so many words, but the research is done, and I'll be writing for many weeks before I run out of things that I know for sure. Yay me!

P.S. I'm getting enough sleep for the first time in 38 years.

Walking

My purpose in going to Derbyshire (they say "Dahbyshire"), the Peaks District, was to walk, and walk I did. I would have been happy to do it for an indefinite number of days. This is unique to the British, as far as I have observed—all these country walking paths, going through alleyways and fields, past cottages and through forests, and regulated a little bit. Farmers cannot put aggressive animals in pastures that are designated as public footpaths, but walkers must respect the fences and the animals. There are loads of British people out walking, many of them with their beautiful, and beautifully  behaved, dogs. Not going to mention Kate. 

The map directions are usually cryptic: "walk back toward town, away from the carpark, and where there is a gap between the houses, turn right and walk through some fields." I am quoting here. The guide could have said "across from where College St. enters Green Lane, at the Public footpath sign." Oh no, that would cut down on the actual walking back and forth along Green Lane, guessing where the houses have a gap.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

I couldn't help but think, when passing this sign, that in the musicology world, this might be called the "Cottage of Con'tent"—a place where a scholar would retreat to produce articles and books of great import—whereas I imagine they pronounce it Con-tent'—a place where one would escape to contemplate nature, sleep, walk, and rejuvenate. But perhaps if I hadn't been coming straight from a musicology conference that wouldn't have crossed my mind.                          

My map directed me to "turn right after Fern House, and keep Fern House and its woods to your right." Good thing I noticed the tiny sign on the wall that said Fern Cottage. But turning right after this cottage was the last thing I was able to decode on this trail. I had been in this general area the first day, had a sense where the town was, and so after slogging through a really muddy field, I just rambled wherever it was permitted.

These horses lived in the field next to Fern House/ Cottage, and their bridles hung on the fence, ready to go. The farm next door had a riding school, and a class was in session as I walked in the field above.  

 

 

The fields were filled with lambs and wildflowers.                                    

I liked the way this hook curved around the post to reach its latch. And I liked finding benches scattered around in the middle of nowhere.  I stopped to enjoy the stillness and to write in my

journal right in the middle of a sheep pasture.

They were so near that I could hear them tearing up and chewing the grass.

All of these pictures are from this one walk; the landscape is varied, and that is one of the things that makes walking so delightful. The green of the woods contrasted dramatically with  the gray of these stone bluffs.

But even within the woods, the scene varies. The branches above are tangled and curving in a green light, while the ones below are upright and more brightly  backlit. I took a video here to capture the clear, piercing birdsong that I heard only in this place and nowhere else, but it didn't turn out )-;

It was very muddy. I was glad to have my hiking boots, or I could not have done this walk. I noticed a lot of people wearing muddy hiking boots—on the train, in town, in the city park. I think lots of people had been out in the mud.         

Chatsworth

 On this trip, I've been reading a lot of old English novels. First, Scarlet Pimpernel, which I'd never read, now Jane Eyre, and I'm sure Pride and Prejudice cannot be far behind. So when I visited
Chatsworth yesterday, I was completely in the mood. Chatsworth is the pride of the Peak District, I gather. I went by bus—three transfers, 70 minutes, with one transfer in front of a tiny store full of penny candy. I bought licorice, unlike any I've ever had before—very tough and chewy. I wish I'd bought more! It rained and poured all day, but when I had finished looking at the house, I walked for two hours on the grounds. I was soaked, but very content.

And I began to understand for the first time what those people did with their days. I could have walked for hours, even in the rain. Path led to trail led to sculpture, to row of birches, to grotto, to fountain, to more trails and paths. It was an amazing combination of nature and artifice; it is difficult to imagine thinking and planning on that scale. Or perhaps they just made it up as they went along. These woven sculptures were made from willow and bamboo grown on the place, and designed to seem organic and integrated into the growing things. The large one was an archway leading into the kitchen garden.

My favorite color is blue.

I thought this horse was real when I saw it from a distance.

The long vistas in England are glorious--even on a rainy day, but not so good in a photo.

This grotto was another little discovery at the end of a path--although, once you climb the path to the grotto, you realize that two more trails lead beyond  . . .

This fellow below seems to have come from Midsummer Night's Dream somehow.

The New Kitchen

It's a galley. That means nothing is more than a few steps away, and yet, there's plenty of room for lots of people--seven people were making sandwiches and standing around visiting at one time.  The butcher block side is for baking and other dry kinds of cooking and mixing.  

The stainless steel counter side of the kitchen has the sink and stove--all the messy stuff. The sink is a 5-foot unit with all kinds of accessories, like a drain rack, a strainer and wash basin, and a cutting board that all fit into the sinks and drain board. The stove has an induction cooktop, a large oven that's both conventional and convection, and a small conventional drawer oven on the bottom. Above it is an Advantium oven that includes halogen, convection, microwave, and conventional cooking, plus warming, toasting, and all kinds of things we haven't begun to explore yet. We find ourselves using the small convection oven almost exclusively. I am away from home now, and sometimes find that I wish I were at home doing something in my kitchen. It makes me want to cook! The drawers are really big: all of my dishes fit into this drawer that is right across from thedishwasher. This is incredibly convenien. Above the fridge

is a cupboard for all the cookie sheets, trays, pitchers, and other tall things. I really should show you a picture of my tall, pull-out pantry, but formatting this is making me crazy! I finally got everything to fit into this space, so THE END!

Family room

I am only writing for Heather these days, as I assume no one else reads my blog. That's a relief! But as a former home remodeler, she wants to see what we are up to. So here are some recent pictures. We are almost finished and very, very happy with the results. This is the family room. The ceiling is cypress, the floor is cork. The room is so comfortable to be in--it turned out better than we imagined. Next time, kitchen pictures. I need to go home and take some new ones.

Building

The kitchen is bigger than before; it will be a galley. We have raised the ceiling and lowered the walls, so the ceiling space will flow through the house. The ridge light will bring light in through the whole interior of the house. It's very messy now, but it's surprising how little it bothers us. Not that we won't be happy when it's finished!


This is the back of the house now. The old porch is closed in to become a family room, and porches have been added on both ends of the house, so that the house wraps around the pool and there is lots of covered space. We enlarged the pool deck.