Sushi Fav

I haven't had a lot of good restaurant experiences in Columbia, SC - a city I travel to often because that's where they develop the software product I manage - but I did have my first and favorite sushi experience there. A good friend guided me through my first sushi about five years ago, and I've been going back ever since. It's a little place in O'neal Court called Inakaya.

We usually sit at the sushi bar (photo above) where we see the chefs produce their beautiful plates and hear them call the orders (in Japanese) into the grill and tempura kitchen behind the curtain. On the other side of this little restaurant is a lovely display of sake casks and Japanese dolls. I've had some deep and complex conversations here, personal and professional. If at some point my job changes, and I stop having reason to visit Columbia, SC again, this is one of the things I will miss.

NC Interstate Rest Stops

I have been admiring and trying to learn about the designer of several I-85 and I-95 rest stops in NC for some time. I gradually came to realize that there was something special going on, and that they have a common style. They create rest with their subtle architecture - people don't hurry through them as much as the dozens of other rest stops I also visit regularly. These are effective examples of the kind of architecture Ayn Rand rhapsodized about in The Fountainhead.

Here are photos from the NC Welcome Center at the southernmost part of I-95 in NC, on the northbound side (obviously). These day lilies were at their best, and the light made them glow.

This I-95 Robeson NC welcome center site, the I-85 Davidson rest area coming north (connected with the NC Vietnam Veterans Memorial, also a moving design), the I-85 Cabarrus rest area coming north, and two rest stops which both feature large circles on one side of the building (southbound I-85 Davidson, and the Cumberland rest area northbound on I-95 near Fayetteville) all seem to me to have the same hand at the drawing board. Northbound Davidson is my favorite, with the huge beds of day lilies and the steps leading down through the split rail fence to the building and a winding path through tall trees.

I've wanted to blog about these rest areas before - but I can't seem to take the kind of photos I want. No photo I can take will give an impression of the subtle relationships of buildings, roads, trees, flower beds, stonework, walk ways, topography, and open spaces which make these designs so effective.

Stupid Sheep

When I draw or paint without a model or a preconceived subject, I find that three compositions or images recur.

The first is a series of verticals, of differing widths, with their starts and stops at different heights. It's a forest of trees. It's a grove. I see this in many real things, as well - nearly any series of vertical (from my perspective) will end up evoking trees to me. This doesn't surprise me - trees have been at the core of my being for as long as I can remember.* When people use the epithet "tree hugger" I wince, because I have literally hugged trees, particularly some that seemed to have presence. I still do, occasionally, particularly beeches or unusually potent tulip poplars. I have pieces of long lost, important trees embedded in my hiking staff.

I can recall a particular paper birch, at the head of a small grove which may have been entirely her descendants; I had a silent relationship with that birch when I was fifteen. I used to hike to her many afternoons after school, and sit by her. The last year we lived in New York, a road was put through the grove, wiping out eighty percent of it, I was consumed by rage and grief for days. The main tree survived, though. I don't know if this experience forms the grounding for the recurring image - or if both are linked to something earlier and more primal in my life.

Another, much less positive, image that often emerges when I am just doodling on a large surface (anything larger than eight and half by eleven) is an "x." I hate and curse this image with all my heart, because I dislike it aesthetically, distrust it whenever it appears, and I can't prevent it emerging in many cases. It can show up in any composition, if I'm not careful. Sometimes it's OK, and I can allow it - other times I struggle to remove it or abandon the work altogether.

And finally there are the stupid sheep**. Three times now I have had images come forward, in non-objective (abstract) works, which ended up being a small group of sheep with light coming from behind them, at the upper right corner of the image. The first time I was amused and enjoyed it, though the painting was a failure, and I ultimately cut it up for CD covers (like the piece Grizzlies in Central Park which ended up making three covers). The second time the sheep emerged I refused to participate. I erased them. The third time I just laughed and cussed and figured I was not going to be done with these stupid sheep until they were done. So the painting above (more gray/blue in the photo above than the original, which is more intense) is the result this time.

I say "this time" because I have a feeling this is not the last. I can still feel the sheep needing more. And this image is black-faced sheep, and I sense that there is another breed that wants out. The sheep have also made appearances in the book illustrations I completed last year.

And if you've been paying attention, you may have realized that this painting is also an example of trees... And if you look closely, there is an overall implied "x," as well.

* I have posted about important trees and my relationships or feelings for them before. Here, here, and here.

**If you listen to the lyrics of Insomnia Blues by Carla Sciaky, you'll hear the phrase, "Where's the stupid sheep?" Moomin Light wrote about this piece, here. Another favorite of mine (by Carla Sciaky) is This Deep Love.

Half Missing

This guy is in the hospital in Raleigh for several days. I've often heard my Dad, and said myself, that I can't understand how people can afford to spend so much money on a pet. I have some qualms about spending potentially several thousand on this episode. But when it comes right down to it, what you are buying is more time with someone you know and love. Tamlin has been missing for half a day at this point, and it leaves a big hole in our home and in my heart. Lina seems like only half of herself, though she's not showing any distress that Tamlin's gone. She seems like not enough to me. I "get" her more than I do Tamlin - I can read her better and I relate to her more. Tummy Cat is more like a wild animal that has consented to live with us for a while, but I miss him and his weird ways a lot already.

He's got a urinary obstruction - not uncommon or complicated, but deadly if not treated. He's in for urethral catheterization, 24-48 hours of observation, radiography to see if there are stones to deal with, and analysis of the crystals that caused this so we can change his diet and prevent it in future. There are several kinds of crystals that form in feline bladders - proper understanding and diet usually solve the problem long term. He's in good hands at the rightly famous Vet School at NC State.

(NC State's phone message on Sundays says, "If your medical emergency is with a small animal, press 5," and I'm thinking, "Hamster? Gecko?" "If your medical emergency is equine or involves farm animals, press 6." Sudden scale change - even a great Dane is a small animal compared to a Charolais bull or a Belgian draft horse. My thinking was so suburban. NC State is famous for its work with Holsteins, for instance - the biggest and most beautiful Holsteins I've ever seen anywhere.)

An Evening in Lavonia

On my way back from Alpharetta, GA, already after 5:00, with a long drive ahead of me (I got home after midnight), I saw a billboard for an authentic Mexican restaurant. I was in the hilly rural area just south of the SC border, on I-85. The thought of Mexican was enticing, and it might be fun to see how authentic it really was. So I pulled off and saw the Mexican place, clean and neat, with a decent number of cars in front of it for the time of day and the place...

...but then I saw the sign for "Historic Downtown Lavonia." With a huge grin on my face I drove past the Mexican place, figuring I could always come back.

I love to find where the locals eat. I've eaten simple, wonderful food, in greasy, smoky places, where a solo diner can unobtrusively listen to neighborly chatter and enjoy interesting perspectives. Having lived in mostly urban or suburban settings for the last thirty years, and hobnobbing almost exclusively with college graduates, I am often enlightened by the political opinions, economic predictions, and thoughts about celebrities and other news of the day that spring from a less cluttered view of the world. I have had epiphanies handed to me in small rural towns. I'm not kidding.

And it's rural settings, here in my adopted Southern home, that still use the genteel conversational arts unique to this region. It is high compliment when friends, born and bred in the rural deep South, say I could almost have been raised here, my manners are so good. I learned much of that uniquely Southern etiquette in small towns and in the countryside.

So I drove into Lavonia with high hopes, and those hopes were not disappointed. It's a real Southern place, with a sense of itself. Banners on the lamp posts, bearing the message "Lavonia - Big Time Small Town," made me grin. The architecture is not remarkable, but most of it has been there a while and shows some history. The town's layout at the center is unusual, with jigs in the main streets and a railroad track and old station (now the Chamber of Commerce) at the heart of it. There is diagonal parking on the main streets, something that has vanished from most American towns. One building had murals painted on the side that gave a glimpse of the progression of the place, from livery stable to car dealership and beyond. The disappearing green of the wagon in the first painting is an accidental metaphor.

I walked around and took pictures. Nearly everything was closed. There was an old hard working diesel engine paused on the tracks at one end of the main plaza. While I ate at the Downtown Cafe, which had an Italian and Greek menu (I had the special - which was pretty good) I watched this old engine roll north alone, and ten minutes later roll south again with a dozen or so empty flat bed cars. I asked the waitress if the train worked only a local set of tracks, and she replied proudly that, "It goes all the way." Map research later shows the line that runs through Lavonia connecting two larger lines that run through Toccoa and Greenwood, so I wonder if the old engine doesn't mostly ferry cars between the two. Greenwood might be all the way if you live in Lavonia. Many rural Southerners only make infrequent trips to other towns or cities.

Later, getting gas again near the highway, I was filling up near an unusual three wheeler, covered with patriotic logos and with flags carefully furled behind. The man, in leathers, looked like a colorful character, and he struck up a conversation. I asked him where he had come from, since he commented he was sore from riding so long. He had started in Houston, driven to California, then north to Washington, then across the country to the east coast, down into the South, and was now returning to Texas, hoping to make home by sometime tomorrow. "I've been on the road 19 days!" I asked if I could photograph him and his unique rig, and he posed for me, tugging his side whiskers into greater order. He said, "God bless you!" as we parted.

A few more miles on the highway and I was in a typical SC welcome center. The unique Georgia town and unusual encounter could have been just a dream. Except for the photos... (Click any image to get a larger view.)

Yard Fountain 2008

Again, the chicken is talking non-stop to the toad. Of course, our oldest son pointed out, she's been doing it all winter under the house, as well. He had positioned them carefully when putting them away last December. Either the toad's smile indicates he doesn't mind, or it's the frozen variety and his mind is elsewhere...

The hippo Debbie (also known as "Spitty!") provides the fountain (she's off in this photo). Globose is barely visible over the Virginia Creeper which has grown up so nicely with some of it's feet in the fountain bowl. He is as round as a ball. While three of the creatures make sense being there, because of the water, the chicken is only there for the captive audience.

I am considering getting a few small fish to keep the mosquito larvae under control. Bleach is a bad idea because frogs keep taking up residence in the fountain, small as it is.

Here is how the fountain looked in 2007. You can see how much larger the VA creeper is this year. It's also now more than twenty feet up a nearby loblolly pine.

Summer

When is it summer?

The first really hazy hot day that builds to local thunder showers, or the sound of cicadas would both qualify, but those aren't early signs. The first Queen Anne's lace (daucus carota) or the first blooms of the brilliant orange Asiatic lilies in our gardens are earlier signs. The sweet evening songs of wood thrushes are a bit too early, arriving actually in late spring, but I think of them as a summer sound.

For me, the light is the most direct indicator. I am sensitive to the quality and intensity of the sunlight, and by late May it's no longer a spring sun.

The second growth on the trees is another message I receive without conscious notice. In the spring there is an exuberant first growth of leaves on the trees and shrubs. This leads to the unique spring blend of different colors and textures as the leaves are in their infancy. After those leaves reach full color and size, though, the trees pause for a few weeks, then put on another seasonal growth spurt, reaching further into the light and filling all the gaps in their foliage. This creates an overstuffed, shaggier appearance overall, and I tune in to this.

And of course there are the signs at the grocery store. The arrival of fresh local strawberries is an early warning sign. Watermelons are an even stronger indication. Then it's time for cooking burgers on the grill (actually, that's an all year thing in this house) and making potato salad, cole slaw, and corn on the cob.