I've been entertaining the idea of moving. Out of the city. I've got to a place where I don't have to go to work in an office, I work exclusively from home. I enjoy the Manhattan hustle and bustle less and less, I don't go clubbing, hate the bars, restaurants are becoming increasingly noisy and I'd rather eat something I made at home anyway. I've changed. New York City is beginning to get on my nerves. I don't want to be an occasional gardener, I want to be a constant one.
On Christmas day up in Mamaroneck I caught sight of these mature plants that had been uprooted from the perimeter of the house thats just about to undergo refurbishment. There they were ready to be heeled in, wrapped, sadly it seemd in burlap, awaiting their purgatorial tenure. It gave me a chill. I've moved a lot already maybe even a little too much, across continents, from one coast to the other from the third world to the old world to the new world. The thought of doing it again is a little scary.
I had also just come from a weekend in Ulster County, one possible area I would move to. When I was in Provincetown, a regular summer dweller bemoaned the fact that all the artsy types had moved out. Where have they gone, I asked. Oh the Hudson Valley he replied. So, I've been sort of looking at listings in the Catskills and the Hudson Valley. Over the weekend the friend I was visiting very kindly drove me all around to look at Athens and Coxsackie and a huge part of me just loved the quietness and the beauty of the place, we joked about the locals who waved to us but I liked that too- believe me I'm up to here already with rude, uncivil, self obsessed New yorkers. A tiny part of me however couldn't help noticing that in the depths of winter, it all kind of looked and felt sort of cold and remote.