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ink_n_impBut I feel like posting, and by gum, I've nothing else to talk about. But first, a rather longish explanation as to why this post came to be.
Today was one of those glorious, late summer days that happen on occasion here on Long Island--the sun was shining, the sky was blue, everything was still green, and any other ridiculously sentimental dribble you can add to the above, by all means do!
I was meandering around the porch, only to discover that some of the figs on the fig tree had ripened! Now, I ADORE fresh figs; in fact I was of the habit of picking them for breakfast off of a tree on the NYU campus in Florence the semester I studied aboard. And if you might be of the mind to say "Silly Nella, why would you do that!"; rest assured I asked the president of the study aboard program if that was alright, to which he gave a wholehearted "YES!" It turns out NO ONE ate the figs off of that fig tree, and all those delicious figs would fall to the ground and rot away every year. And as I am cheap, figs make for a marvelous breakfast. Positively delicious, nothing like a freshly ripened fig. If you don't believe me, come to my house and try them for yourself.
So, I picked what I could, and ate what I could (saving some for the rest of the family, as one shouldn't be too greedy with figs) and meandered onward to find that there were ripened Concord grapes in the back of the yard as well! This has NEVER happened before--for years, I've stared all summer at the green, hard grapes in anticipation of what ripened Concord grapes might taste like to no avail--alas, they have always be snatched up by birds long before I could enjoy them in their dark purple glory.
But this year, there are GRAPES in the backyard, fully ripened Concord grapes. Now, I am aware that Concord grapes are usually only used for the making of juices and jellies, but I picked as many as I could and ate them as I walked about some more. I can honestly tell you to not eat the skins. They are bitter like beach plum skins (also in season now, and down by Long Beach to those who like to pick fruit in public parks), but the first tentative bite is wonderfully sweet. Even the gummy middle, that reminds one of tapioca pearls, is sour and delicious.
So, as I was eating fig and grape, the thought kept rolling through my mind that 'all was right in the world, the fig was on the vine'. And even though I KNEW that FIGS don't grow on VINES (DUH), I couldn't help repeating this ridiculous mantra to myself. It took me a while, but I finally realized that my brain was foolishly combining two of my loves; the Jeeves and Wooster stories by Wodehouse, and the American Revolution.
Bertie: This is the life, eh Jeeves?
Jeeves: One does find the last days of summer as they encroach upon the fall season most relaxing, sir.
B: Exactly. Very fig upon the vine, what?
J: *coughs softly*
B: Yes, Jeeves?
j: Permit me to take a Liberty, sir--
B: Liberty away, Jeeves!
J: Thank you, sir. But I believe you will find that figs do not, in fact, grow on vines.
B: You don't say.
j: You will find the grow on trees--I fear you are mistakenly combining a favorite quotation of yours with an image favored by the first President of the United States of America, one George Washington, who spoke favorably of retirement from public office as retiring to 'the fig and vine'--vine referring to grape cultivation.
B: Good Lord--Jeeves, you are rather informed about this Washington chap.
J: *narrows eyes* Indeed, sir.
B: But see here, Jeeves. I thought you weren't wholly keen on all that American rebellion stuff.
J: While that may be so, sir, our authoress is quite keen upon the subject, and appears to have been unable
to resist such a reference.
B: Well! Of all the bally nerve!
J: Indeed, sir.
B: Really, what do these female authors think they are! Going on about, putting words into the mouths of perfectly respectable male characters?
J: One could scarcely imagine, sir.
B: BRRH--it's a cold thought, Jeeves, being at the machinery--
J: I believe Sir means, 'machinations'.
B: Right, thank you, Jeeves--Machinations of a female author! This sort of thing never happened when good old Plum was around! But I tell you this, Jeeves--it's a poor day for all literary characters everywhere, chaps OR females, when they can't even trust the words coming out of their mouths.
J: A sentiment I agree with wholeheartedly, sir. And might I add, sir, you look positively ravishing tonight.
B:Why, thank you, Jee--*blinks* Jeeves. Why do I suddenly have the urge to move this conversation to the bedroom?
J: I couldn't say, sir, but one suspects our authoress is exerting her Will over us once more.
B: Blast!…No chance of fighting it?
J: I fear not, sir.
B: *sighs* Very well. I had plans done at the Drones for tonight, you know, so may as well get this over with then. Lead the way, Jeeves.
J: Very good, sir.
Today was one of those glorious, late summer days that happen on occasion here on Long Island--the sun was shining, the sky was blue, everything was still green, and any other ridiculously sentimental dribble you can add to the above, by all means do!
I was meandering around the porch, only to discover that some of the figs on the fig tree had ripened! Now, I ADORE fresh figs; in fact I was of the habit of picking them for breakfast off of a tree on the NYU campus in Florence the semester I studied aboard. And if you might be of the mind to say "Silly Nella, why would you do that!"; rest assured I asked the president of the study aboard program if that was alright, to which he gave a wholehearted "YES!" It turns out NO ONE ate the figs off of that fig tree, and all those delicious figs would fall to the ground and rot away every year. And as I am cheap, figs make for a marvelous breakfast. Positively delicious, nothing like a freshly ripened fig. If you don't believe me, come to my house and try them for yourself.
So, I picked what I could, and ate what I could (saving some for the rest of the family, as one shouldn't be too greedy with figs) and meandered onward to find that there were ripened Concord grapes in the back of the yard as well! This has NEVER happened before--for years, I've stared all summer at the green, hard grapes in anticipation of what ripened Concord grapes might taste like to no avail--alas, they have always be snatched up by birds long before I could enjoy them in their dark purple glory.
But this year, there are GRAPES in the backyard, fully ripened Concord grapes. Now, I am aware that Concord grapes are usually only used for the making of juices and jellies, but I picked as many as I could and ate them as I walked about some more. I can honestly tell you to not eat the skins. They are bitter like beach plum skins (also in season now, and down by Long Beach to those who like to pick fruit in public parks), but the first tentative bite is wonderfully sweet. Even the gummy middle, that reminds one of tapioca pearls, is sour and delicious.
So, as I was eating fig and grape, the thought kept rolling through my mind that 'all was right in the world, the fig was on the vine'. And even though I KNEW that FIGS don't grow on VINES (DUH), I couldn't help repeating this ridiculous mantra to myself. It took me a while, but I finally realized that my brain was foolishly combining two of my loves; the Jeeves and Wooster stories by Wodehouse, and the American Revolution.
Bertie: This is the life, eh Jeeves?
Jeeves: One does find the last days of summer as they encroach upon the fall season most relaxing, sir.
B: Exactly. Very fig upon the vine, what?
J: *coughs softly*
B: Yes, Jeeves?
j: Permit me to take a Liberty, sir--
B: Liberty away, Jeeves!
J: Thank you, sir. But I believe you will find that figs do not, in fact, grow on vines.
B: You don't say.
j: You will find the grow on trees--I fear you are mistakenly combining a favorite quotation of yours with an image favored by the first President of the United States of America, one George Washington, who spoke favorably of retirement from public office as retiring to 'the fig and vine'--vine referring to grape cultivation.
B: Good Lord--Jeeves, you are rather informed about this Washington chap.
J: *narrows eyes* Indeed, sir.
B: But see here, Jeeves. I thought you weren't wholly keen on all that American rebellion stuff.
J: While that may be so, sir, our authoress is quite keen upon the subject, and appears to have been unable
to resist such a reference.
B: Well! Of all the bally nerve!
J: Indeed, sir.
B: Really, what do these female authors think they are! Going on about, putting words into the mouths of perfectly respectable male characters?
J: One could scarcely imagine, sir.
B: BRRH--it's a cold thought, Jeeves, being at the machinery--
J: I believe Sir means, 'machinations'.
B: Right, thank you, Jeeves--Machinations of a female author! This sort of thing never happened when good old Plum was around! But I tell you this, Jeeves--it's a poor day for all literary characters everywhere, chaps OR females, when they can't even trust the words coming out of their mouths.
J: A sentiment I agree with wholeheartedly, sir. And might I add, sir, you look positively ravishing tonight.
B:Why, thank you, Jee--*blinks* Jeeves. Why do I suddenly have the urge to move this conversation to the bedroom?
J: I couldn't say, sir, but one suspects our authoress is exerting her Will over us once more.
B: Blast!…No chance of fighting it?
J: I fear not, sir.
B: *sighs* Very well. I had plans done at the Drones for tonight, you know, so may as well get this over with then. Lead the way, Jeeves.
J: Very good, sir.
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no subject
Date: 2007-09-02 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-02 03:03 pm (UTC)While the thought does strike me on occasion, I've yet to venture down to Remsemburg to pay my respects. I haven't heard if his house is still there, but he is buried in Remsemburg (thank YOU, findagrave.com!). Though, that WOULD be a nice day trip to make in the fall...
...Really, the biggest obstacle in my way is my own laziness. I'm such a stick in the mud when it comes to pilgrimages, rereading the books is just so much easier. ^_^
no subject
Date: 2007-09-02 01:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-02 03:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-02 05:45 pm (UTC)