During my childhood and adolescence, my mom would often spontaneously take me out for country drives along the shores of Lake Ontario. My favorite drives were the ones where we would find ourselves chasing the sunset, trying our best to get to the shore before the colors faded. Well, on Friday, Mom and I found ourselves on another of these sunset chases. This time, however, the sunset was swathed in a curious mist rising off the chilly water and drifting onto the shore.
The photo above depicts this mist floating above an inlet on the Webster side of Seabreeze. I made my mom pull the car over so I could grab some shots. This one's my favorite.
Later, as we were walking down the pier, Mom spotted a blue heron standing quietly in the water. I managed to get this shot seconds before he flew away.
The next day, I "helped" my mom nanny Julia Collins, the three-year-old daughter of a childhood friend. We went swimming at the Webster Aquatic Center and swinging at Webster Park, which sounds simple enough, but I was EXHAUSTED by mid-morning. I became aware, yet again, of why I'm not ready to have kids: the swings lose their charm in a BIG way after about 20 minutes. When I'm with Julia in public, though, everyone thinks I'm her mother because we're so much alike: long brown hair, big brown eyes, and a neurotic temperament. She's basically a preview of my own future progeny. This photo shows Julia doing her "cheese!" face while Mom force-feeds her french toast. She and I will have to start a support group someday.
On Mother's Day, Mom, Grandma, Chuck, and I had lunch at Sannibel Cottage, a new restaurant named for an island on the Gulf Coast of Florida. It's my mom's favorite restaurant, which means it MUST be good. In case you've never met her, the first thing that defines my mom as a person is her food fanaticism. The woman loves to eat, and she has a magical metabolism (which I am SO GRATEFUL to have inherited) that allows her to consume vast amounts without becoming obese. Mom and I both put our metabolisms to work at Sannibel that day, devouring rolls with honey butter, salads with mango dressing, and large main courses. I had an excellent dish called "gritty shrimp," which combines Gulf shrimp with grits in a garlic-butter sauce and fresh asparagus. SO GOOD. As you can see from the photo above, my mom's metabolism is about the only thing I inherited from her: she's looking gorgeous, as usual, and I'm looking...like my dad.
After lunch, Mom, Grandma, and I headed downtown to the Lilac Festival, where I suppressed my crowd anxiety and checked out countless varieties of lilacs. I must admit, though, that my favorite flowering bush was the unidentified one in the photo above. However, I do really like the French variety of lilac, like this one, in front of which Grandma and I are posing:
I'm also really into the tulip bed, particularly the dark purple variety:
(PS: My mom took this picture, and she hasn't really learned how to zoom yet. In fact, digital cameras in general freak her out.)
Overall, it was the best weekend I've spent in Rochester in a long, long time. I haven't missed my hometown in a while, but when I stood on that pier, between the fog and the sunset, I realized that there's something about the place that I've internalized, that has become a part of my psyche in an unspeakable way. Often I want to forget the past and look to the future, and I've often wanted to abandon Rochester because eighteen rather gloomy years of my life were spent there. Yet the past is caught up in the landscape, and the landscape has become a part of my identity. I can't abandon it without abandoning myself.
I have a similar relationship to my mom: we've been through some tough things together, and often I want to forget those things. But to do so, I would have to sacrifice a large part of my connection to her.
Instead, I'm going to keep the memories around, but dilute them with water, to take the edge off.
7 comments:
You really should write a novel, seriously, you are an excellent writer and your blogs leave me wanting to know more - like I can't wait for the next chapter, just like when I read a good book and can't put it down.
Deb T.
P.S. if the bush was more like a small tree, it looks like the redbud tree we had in our yard, my favorite tree, but it did not like me and one spring never bloomed again. My black thumb in action again - I once killed an air fern!
Wow: Thanks! I'd love to write a novel, and have started a few, but I've always lost motivation and/or confidence. Someday, though, it will happen.
Your pictures are great and take me back. Funny that I'm heading up to Ra-cha-cha this weekend. Your photos of the Lilac Festival reminded me that I wanted to go. I think it's the lake that is the thread that ties us to that place. I can't go up there and not spend at least a few minutes looking out over the lake even if it's winter and the wind is blowing and everything is covered in ice.
Oh hey, it's Marianne! I guess she has a blog but I never bothered to find out.
I wanted to post this great comment about I once read regarding writers and their special connection to landscapes, but I can't find it.
you could write one of those novels that the Germans call Bildungsmarïannes...
haha! actually, though, that term is close to the writing I do now (except it's not really as linear as the bildungsroman demands).
Marianne, you are as beautiful as your mom. You look like I did when I was your age. I did not know how lovely I was then, but be assured you are very pretty. It's wonderful that you are loyal and loving to your mom. Keep up the writing and the photography! You do have talent......soar with it!!!!!!!!!!
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