April 2011<\/p>\n
In September, 2009, after a season of gardening in Smith and Jones<\/a>, we moved to a new apartment, a ground-level one bedroom affair with a door directly leading outside.\u00a0 The apartment managers said I could plant anything I wanted in the beds on either side of the door which added about 100 square feet of garden space to my gardening domain.\u00a0 I moved herbs from Jones to that area which made them much more convenient to retrieve for cooking.\u00a0 I also planted daffodils and tulips, Jerusalem Artichokes, tomatoes and cucumbers.\u00a0 Last fall I planted spinach and lettuce, both of which we’re eating and enjoying now.\u00a0 At some point, I realized I was the proprietor of three gardens, but I found myself referring to them like this: Smith, Jones, and The-Garden-At-Home.<\/p>\n Our middle son and his wife live in an apartment in Brooklyn with an outdoor porch area (that is on the open, flat roof of the lower floor of the building).\u00a0 For some reason, we were discussing how we should refer to it.\u00a0 For example, in a typical house you might say, “I’m going to the living room,” not, “I’m going to that-other-room-over-there-the-one-with-the-couch-and-the-piano.”\u00a0 They needed something to call the outdoor space besides “Out Back,” or “The Outdoor Space,” and porch or terrace or deck wasn’t quite right.\u00a0 Due to some faulty, funky, or otherwise odd wiring in my brain, I glimpsed the high (second story), flat open space of their porch and was reminded of the large stone outcropping on the Rhine River called The Lorelei.\u00a0 That name got into my head and stuck, partly because it sounds so pretty (though German), and partly because it’s so quirky.\u00a0 Imagine saying: “O.K., everyone, we’re going to step out to The Lorelei for hamburgers and beer,” or “The two of us being out here alone on The Lorelei makes me want to snuggle with you.”\u00a0 Odd, huh?\u00a0 No matter; I liked it.<\/p>\n As everyone sort of smiled and vaguely nodded their heads when I made the\u00a0 suggestion, I knew they would never choose it.\u00a0 Too bad!\u00a0 What a waste of a good… hey… wait… I could name the third garden The Lorelei.\u00a0 And so I did.\u00a0 Put next to Smith and Jones, it’s both lovely and funny: Smith, Jones, and The Lorelei.<\/p>\n We humans have the ability and the authority to name things.\u00a0 We’ve been doing it from the dawn of time.\u00a0 It’s even mentioned in Genesis (2:19-20).\u00a0 This fundamental human task is word-based.\u00a0 We take language and apply it to things around us.\u00a0 In fact, I think people have an inner imperative to fill the world with words.\u00a0 Recognitions like this are part of why I love and am committed to words and all things literary.\u00a0\u00a0 It’s part of why I’m writing this blog.<\/p>\n And besides that… oh…hold on… Gosh, I’d like to write more, but supper’s almost ready, and I’ve gotta go out and pick some lettuce from The Lorelei.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Post Script -I learned recently that Jobs\u2019 daughters\u2019 names were Jemimah, Keziah, and Keren-Happuch which means Dove, Cassia, and Horn of Adornment, a set of three words rhythmically similar to Smith, Jones, and The Lorelei, if you ask me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" April 2011 In September, 2009, after a season of gardening in Smith and Jones, we moved to a new apartment, a ground-level one bedroom affair with a door directly leading outside.\u00a0 The apartment managers said I could plant anything I … Continue reading