The Green, Green Grass of Home

After a thirteen years gap, I'm just returning from an epic journey back east involving 3 states, 29 family and friends, one feisty little dog and a mandolin orchestra. Still living in the memory of all those wonderful conversations and experiences layered over every day- get back to business. 

As the plane approached the airport in Maryland, I saw it- green everywhere. A lush green carpet below. Coming from the full on drought here in California, it was a startling contrast, but I guess that's one of the reasons why we sit on planes for hours. For differences. 

Summer in Maryland means taking care of lawns; big expansive, lush lawns spreading out. The convention is that they are unfenced (mostly) so one property melts into another with the houses doting here and there. It's a particular kind of chore/obsession- really, as keeping a lawn is a commitment of once a week mowing for at least 3 months, aside from weeding and fertilizing. The sound of summer is the sound of lawn mowers buzzing in the background. I know I'm back in the land where I was born.

 
 Ode to green. 

 

New Jersey is called the Garden State for a reason. When one travels out of the congested corridor that funnels commuters north/south, there is a lot of produce to be found. We were too early for the corn and tomatoes, but hit the beginning of blueberry season. With all the moisture back east, I wonder if more produce will come out of this area. 

  

On my list of to-do things in Brooklyn, I wanted to pay a visit to that renowned little flower shop that in my humble estimation does some of the best floral design work in the country. Despite Saipua being on Google Maps, they don't have a sign, and don't stick to the hours listed on their website. Alas, no one was home.