(Crabtree Nature Preserve, Palatine, IL - 4/12/2009)
Thursday, April 30, 2009
First Blooms
After a brutal winter, spring hadn't fully come to the Garden. It snowed the week before and the week after. But still there was much to appreciate.
All the daffodils and snowdrops; and a few crocuses were showing...
The Japanese garden islands, leafless and lovely.
An interesting exposure of some fish under the zig-zag evil-spirit-proof bridge...
Greenflowers in the greenhouse.
And more showy colors too...
(Chicago Botanic Garden - 4/18/09)
All the daffodils and snowdrops; and a few crocuses were showing...
The Japanese garden islands, leafless and lovely.
An interesting exposure of some fish under the zig-zag evil-spirit-proof bridge...
Greenflowers in the greenhouse.
And more showy colors too...
(Chicago Botanic Garden - 4/18/09)
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Corks
I collect corks.
I credit (blame) Bully Hill Vineyards of New York for getting me started. Every cork has a message on it. In the mid-70's, I began collecting their "Wine Without..." series.
They commemorate the battle between Coca-a-Cola and Bully Hill's proprietor, Walter Taylor. After Coke bought the Taylor family winery, he started his own little business, with the happy herd of goats on Bully Hill.
Walter put his name on the first vintage's labels (in smallish print). Coke sued him for using the Taylor name. Coke won.
He was forced to recall all those bottles, and black-out his last name. This soon became his smartass trademark.
The wine is rather sweet, but the "without" messages were a little bitter. It was nice to see a new series appear. They conveyed a sense of peace and reconciliation (especially after a bottle or two).
Ever since I was old enough to drink without help from nipples, I joined in my family's tradition of toasting the New Year with champagne. Mom and Dad didn't let me get loaded (until a bit later), but that was OK. I could still participate in another tradition: champagne cork target shooting.
We'd set up six Dixie cups in a pyramid on a high shelf, and shoot at them with the corks of the bubbly we opened. There were no rules, no prizes, no "official" shooting line. It was so rare that anyone hit them, there seemed no point!
I brought the tradition to my own family, and around 1990 I started labeling and saving these corks.
It wasn't much of a stretch to commemorate other special occasions this way: birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, new houses, new jobs, new bedroom furniture (?) . . .
(The old stuff was quite nasty.)
My collection grew. Some corks had beauty irrespective of the moment, like this one from some mead (honey wine) . . .
. . . or these that had crystals growing on them.
Once, the corks themselves became a part of a party, instead of just momentos of it.
We were celebrating the delivery of a few cases from Bully Hill. I filled a giant brandy snifter with corks, and challenged my guests to guess how many it contained. They wrote thier guesses on corks. (Nice additions to my collection!)
The winner was . . .
Nice guess Mary!
(There were 212. All she won was a lousy tee-shirt - but much admiration.)
More important than the corks are the people who share the moment when they are freed. It doesn't matter if it's two-buck Chuck, or mega-buck Moét & Chandon. It's not about getting drunk or filling a box with souvenirs. It's about sharing and friendship and love.
It's funny, I think, how we are given rules and guidelines for enjoying a bottle of wine . . . “Best served with braised meats” . . . “Enjoy with your favorite ripe cheese” . . . For me, it's best served with whatever snack I can find that isn't embarrassingly stale. And it's always most enjoyable as . . .
I credit (blame) Bully Hill Vineyards of New York for getting me started. Every cork has a message on it. In the mid-70's, I began collecting their "Wine Without..." series.
They commemorate the battle between Coca-a-Cola and Bully Hill's proprietor, Walter Taylor. After Coke bought the Taylor family winery, he started his own little business, with the happy herd of goats on Bully Hill.
Walter put his name on the first vintage's labels (in smallish print). Coke sued him for using the Taylor name. Coke won.
He was forced to recall all those bottles, and black-out his last name. This soon became his smartass trademark.
The wine is rather sweet, but the "without" messages were a little bitter. It was nice to see a new series appear. They conveyed a sense of peace and reconciliation (especially after a bottle or two).
Ever since I was old enough to drink without help from nipples, I joined in my family's tradition of toasting the New Year with champagne. Mom and Dad didn't let me get loaded (until a bit later), but that was OK. I could still participate in another tradition: champagne cork target shooting.
We'd set up six Dixie cups in a pyramid on a high shelf, and shoot at them with the corks of the bubbly we opened. There were no rules, no prizes, no "official" shooting line. It was so rare that anyone hit them, there seemed no point!
I brought the tradition to my own family, and around 1990 I started labeling and saving these corks.
It wasn't much of a stretch to commemorate other special occasions this way: birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, new houses, new jobs, new bedroom furniture (?) . . .
(The old stuff was quite nasty.)
My collection grew. Some corks had beauty irrespective of the moment, like this one from some mead (honey wine) . . .
. . . or these that had crystals growing on them.
Once, the corks themselves became a part of a party, instead of just momentos of it.
We were celebrating the delivery of a few cases from Bully Hill. I filled a giant brandy snifter with corks, and challenged my guests to guess how many it contained. They wrote thier guesses on corks. (Nice additions to my collection!)
The winner was . . .
Nice guess Mary!
(There were 212. All she won was a lousy tee-shirt - but much admiration.)
More important than the corks are the people who share the moment when they are freed. It doesn't matter if it's two-buck Chuck, or mega-buck Moét & Chandon. It's not about getting drunk or filling a box with souvenirs. It's about sharing and friendship and love.
It's funny, I think, how we are given rules and guidelines for enjoying a bottle of wine . . . “Best served with braised meats” . . . “Enjoy with your favorite ripe cheese” . . . For me, it's best served with whatever snack I can find that isn't embarrassingly stale. And it's always most enjoyable as . . .
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