I love gardens, arboretums, conservatories, you name it.  So when I found out there was a nice one here in town, I headed right out.  Phipps Conservatory has a nice “Gargoyles in the Garden” installation going on right now.  The conservatory is basically a giant greenhouse with room after room of different types of plants, styles of plantings, and environments.  Right now, they’ve peppered the regular displays with funny, scary and cute gargoyles.  It looks pretty good.  Naturally, it is warm and humid, but that’s not really a problem because somehow, that makes it even more quiet and restful. You can just amble through, admiring the scenery and holding to your own thoughts.  Gardens are a great place to just sit back and think.  Or not.

I actually considered going back to school for landscape design when Alex and I thought we might end up in Oregon.  They have some great programs in Portland; though I have no idea how I would have paid for it.  But we’re in Pittsburgh, not Portland and mom did point out to me that I do not have the best back in the world, so digging in the dirt all day might not be the best idea.   I thought I’d just get a crew to do the heavy lifting, but I’m sure she’s right.  I still think about the possibility on occasion.  Had we ended up in Oregon, who knows where life would have taken me?

 These are a few pictures from my afternoon at Phipps.

A fine gargoyle

Slender figures dance through the foliage

There's a whole room with myriads of butterflies

Elements of Pittsburgh form a fantasyland

 

Many do not know that I have a thing for crows and corvidae of all sorts.  They tend to show up when I’m having a good time.  One or two is good, three is best.  While I was at my mom’s a couple of weeks back some crows were hanging out in a dead tree on their property when a turkey buzzard showed up to claim the tree…

Buzzard: I am big! This is my tree!

It was a chilling image.  The crows flew around, taunting the buzzard.  It just kept spreading its wings and acting badass.

Submit to me! I am large!

I thought my crows would prevail, but it was not to be.  Despite my mom standing outside, clapping her hands and yelling “Shoo!  Go away!” the buzzard stayed.  (It was actually kind of funny.  Sort of like in Sixteen Candles when grandma is clapping and talking sternly to Long Duck Dong.)  Soon, the buzzard was joined by a second, smaller buddy.  The crows gave up and moved on at that point.

Crows: Oh yeah! Well... ok. Bye.

Spooky city!  I hope it didn’t mean anything.  That’s some bad juju coming my way if it did.  Everyone better send good thoughts this way.

Tonight, I dragged Alex to see one of my all-time favorite authors, Peter S. Beagle.  Actually, I thought he was gladly accompanying me, but it turns out he was just humoring me.

Luckily, Mr. Beagle is a great author and, as we soon found out, a great storyteller.  He read three short stories; a childhood fantasy about stickball, a fable about a Tyrannosaurus Rex (or Regina, as he pointed out, it was a she), and a children’s story about a mouse who wants to be the hunter instead of the hunted.  Alex laughed and smiled and applauded heartily after each, he even posted that he was glad I asked him to go with me.

Mr. Beagle has a wonderful, soft speaking voice that is soothing, but doesn’t put you to sleep.  It’s the kind of voice you’d imagine telling his stories.  I’ve said before that I think his writing has a wonderful lyrical quality, and his voice brings that out.

After the readings, he signed whatever was brought to him.  I was impressed that he had something nice to say to everyone.  He never signed and moved on to the next; he commented on whatever was being presented, or answered questions thoughtfully.  When I presented him with my copies of The Last Unicorn (because you’ve got to) and Tamsin (because I hadn’t read it yet) he told me how he was excited to have me read Tamsin because he enjoyed writing it so much.  He said the cats were real and he loved being the young girl for the time it took to write it.  The Last Unicorn, however, was apparently a difficult year and a half for him as he thought it was a mess from the beginning and only straightened out at the very end.

All in all, it was a lovely evening. 

Man, I wish I could write like him.

Mr. Beagle begins his reading

How could I resist getting a picture with him?