Friday, September 16, 2016


I slept with the windows open last night and woke up this morning to a pleasantly crisp Lovely Apartment.

Fresh autumnal air made a delightful environment for yoga and breakfast. I drink tea all year long, of course, but it tastes best this time of year.

Sitting here in a summer nightgown--sleeveless, knee length--I have goosebumps on my arms, and my feet are chilly, and I am happy.

It occurs to me that I could have kept the apartment this temperature all summer. But, even setting aside any environmental concerns about air conditioning, it would not have been the same.

Seventy degrees of gently breezy fresh air is not the same as seventy degrees of forcefully propelled conditioned air, just like seventy degrees in early spring feels not the same as seventy degrees in late summer.

Happy first harbinger of fall.

Thursday, September 15, 2016


The first time Lou visited Lovely Apartment we realized that we have very different relationships with the sun.

Lou: This balcony would be great for sitting with coffee and the newspaper. You should put a small table and chair out here.  

me: 0.o It faces directly east. 

Lou: Yes! Isn't that wonderful? You can just soak up the sun!

me: No! It's horrible. I would burn to a crisp. I will never sit on that balcony in the morning. 

And I haven't. I often go out in the morning to water the plants or to put laundry on the drying racks, but never for more than a couple of minutes. I do, however, enjoy the balcony with a cup of tea in the afternoon or a glass of wine in the evening, when the light is diffuse and the whole of my garden is in shade.

More and more I find myself seeking shade wherever I go, which is not easy when I accomplish a significant portion of my commute with my feet. 

I walk because walking means not driving and not driving means not parking. I walk because it brings physical movement into my sedentary life organically. I walk because it reveals my community to me in greater detail. 

The greatest challenge in my walking life is the sun. Without a hat or a headscarf, my scalp will burn through my hair. Even with sunscreen, my exposed skin crisps quickly. 

So, I've developed an odd habit of standing in scraps of shade. 

The fact that my shadow isn't visible in the picture above means that I have successfully placed myself in the shaodow of the diminutive, ivy-covered treeling in the picture below.


I'm not a skinny person, and even I fit in the shade of a lamppost or small tree trunk. Since I started looking for them, I find these bands of shade everywhere. Like narrow fragments of oasis.