2016

I've kept this blog, on and off, since 2006. In 2015 I used it to chart daily encounters, images, thoughts and feelings about volcanic basalt/bluestone in Melbourne and Victoria, especially in the first part of the year. I plan to write a book provisionally titled Bluestone: An Emotional History, about human uses of and feelings for bluestone. But I am also working on quite a few other projects and a big grant application, especially now I am on research leave. I'm working mostly from home, then, for six months, and will need online sociability for company!


Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Smokey Rain

It rained, and was cold all day yesterday. I was glad of the big black alpaca coat I had bought in Boulder (on a huge sale, but still hugely expensive: still, my winter coat problem is solved for the next 20 years, I hope). We struggled with umbrellas and the worn out soles of Joel's shoes, in and out of libraries and the subway, all day, then in the evening, the rain really started pelting down. We nipped out to buy provisions at 6.30, and all you could see, at either end of 8th Avenue, was grey mist; and from our little balcony, the top of the Hearst Tower, the building we use as our landmark, a few blocks north of us, was shrouded in mist, looking like smokey rain is supposed to look. Here's the building in sunny architectural light. It was the first skyscraper to be started after 9/11; boasts some impressive green credentials; and has won at least one award.

Lying in bed last night, listening to the rain rushing through the pipes and splashing onto our little patio, I couldn't help but wonder (Oh, sorry for SATC syntax there) about what such a tremendous amount of rain could do for parched southern Victoria, and how at home, if we heard such rain, we'd rejoice at the way it would soak down a few inches and relieve the terrible dryness of the earth. But all I could see in my head, as I drifted off into sleep, was rain running off grey buildings, into the grey streets, and down into the East and the Hudson rivers. Manhattan was a long thin island floating on the water, rising in the flooding rains; and water running away off the land, and never finding a single tree.

5 comments:

Jeffrey Cohen said...

My family strayed in Murray Hill two weeks ago ... and we were amazed at the number of trees and small gardens we came across, as well as the microclimates/microecolological systems around them. It amde me think about how tough it is to be a nonpigeon bird or a tree or a shrub in NYC!

Beautiful post.

stray said...

The Argyle Sock!

This old world is a new world said...

Sure, I'm not saying there ain't no trees here; just that I wasn't dreaming about them... There are a few sad plants on the rooftop garden of our building; and of course the glorious park.

The Sock! Brilliant!

helen said...

Perhaps the Brumby govt could commission a pipeline from Noo Yoik? I mean, it's not as if feasibility seems to figure very largely in their calculations, what's a few more thousand Ks?

Nokomi said...

It may hearten you to know (if you've not been in touch with the inhabitants of ye olde antipodes) that Victoria has had widespread rain over the last few days and there's more to come! From Mildura to Bendigo, Lakes Entrance (where it actually snowed!?!) to Melbourne's CBD, we've been delighting in it!!!