Despite being deathly afraid of his own shoes (of which he now owns a pair--wish us luck in getting them on his feet), Rowan delights in other people's shoes. No idea why. He generally likes to pick them up and toss them a few inches away, then pick them up again, only occasionally tasting them (which sends Winnie into a tizzy). These pictures were taken in the interior of our new place, somewhere between the kitchen nook and the family room. Again, photos of the house are forthcoming--sorry for the delay. We've gotta show you his play room!
Just a little triptych of Rowan at breakfast time and the way he's grown up over the past few months. Pretty cool.
Behold! The Berkshires! Here we are visiting the Seranak, the former estate of Sergei Koussevitzsky, who conducted the Boston Symphony and founded the Tanglewood Festival. We were staying on the Seranak grounds at the bottom of the hill in a little cottage called the Abravanel, where a vast number of giant flying ants were mating in our screened-in porch. Just fucking lovely.
Rowan perched on Daddy behind Seiji Ozawa Hall, awaiting another concert of contemporary music. Other couples and families were situated around the grounds with their wine and cheese and their fancy ketchups and knives and picnic sets, just having a grand old time of it all.
Rowan, tree, and Seiji Ozawa Hall--a retrospective.
Out and about in Lenox and points beyond, the family decides to check out the surrounding area and find some breakfast (which we finally did in one of the outlying towns in a place called Martin's), with Rowan's food bag in tow.
On our way there, we caught sight of the ever elusive Rowan tree, shown here with its typical orange berries in summer. I've always thought it was one of the most beautiful trees I've seen, probably because it's not terribly common.
Mommy and Rowan in front of the Norman Rockwell museum containing most of the artist's best known paintings. It's a terrific museum, and the grounds are immaculately kept. Behind the museum is the artist's original studio, moved here from its original location--quite impressive. I've always been perplexed by Rockwell's works, not so much for its idealism about American life but for the odd grotesquery of its figures--men and women look horribly aged and ill, children look almost deformed. I'm assuming its a kind of allegorical exaggeration.
Out behind the museum, Rowan seeks refuge from the sun under his "Gay Vader" hat. If I ever find the picture, I'll post it--it'll explain why I've named this hat as such. You'll also notice that Rowan STILL won't wear socks, or shoes. He freaks out whenever we try to put them on. Then again, he's afraid of Mickey Mouse keychains, too. Go figure.
Daddy was invited to attend a performance of one of his pieces at the Tanglewood Festival of Contemporary Music this summer in Lenox, MA, right in the heart of the Berkshires. Rowan is having a splendid time out on the grass beyond Seiji Ozawa Hall, where Daddy's piece was played. This is one of the first times we've allowed him to crawl on the grass--we are getting less persnickity, I swear.
Rowan tests out his "sea legs" in front of Auntie Kara, a clarinetist and wife of fellow composer, Jake (who also had a piece at T-wood), the two of whom will be having their first baby sometime in November. Although it's summertime, the Berkshires can get a wee bit chilly, which explains the sweater. Rowan, as of yesterday (Aug. 19) is walking now. Just FYI.
A panel of composers talking about music--what a tragedy (for me, that is). Rowan saw it all; so did Mommy. In the center, our moderator, Augusta Read Thomas, reads off the questions that were posed to the composers a few weeks before (which we were supposed to prepare). Daddy is looking at the questions in front of Augusta (some of them for the first time) and trying to think up answers on the spot. From left to right, the composers are: Helen Grimes, Jake Bancks (my colleague), Cynthia Wong, Augusta, myself, Judd Greenstein and Paula Matthuson. Behind us is substandard coffee.
On the deck of our new house in Bloomington (pictures forthcoming), Rowan and Daddy sit on one of the rocking chairs outside in the morning air facing the sun--it's a hot day, not a cloud, not a gust of wind. Rowan and Daddy both have crazy hair. Just one of those days, I guess.
Of a sudden, Rowan stands up. What does he see? What could possibly have drawn his attention away from the intricate patterns of the treated wood of the deck?
Alas, the swing set! Thank God!