What happened in 2022? In the garden, we planted a new Japanese maple to replace an azalea (RIP). I'm old enough to feel some momentary sorrow planting trees in the garden, knowing that I probably won't be around to see it at the height of its powers, but it's also true that, so long as the tree lives, every year is better than the last. Let's just say this tree had a good year in 2022, and I'm looking forward to seeing how it does in 2023.
Here's our other Japanese maple, which is probably thirteen or fourteen years old (assuming it was one or two when we bought it from a mail-order nursery in Oregon). It doesn't turn red until December.
Our statue had a good year in 2022.
Statues and trees share a few things in common that make them different than people: they look nice in gardens and they tend to grow more beautiful with age.
Beyond the garden, my favorite record of 2022 was Once Twice Melody, by Beach House. Does everyone listen to Beach House? I feel like they should be bigger than the Beatles, but I don't think that's the case. Their music falls somewhere between synth pop, chill wave, and psychedelic drone rock. Their records are beautifully arranged and produced, the songs tuneful and catchy without being insipid. The music is comfortable and interesting, but not too demanding. I can play Beach House in the background when I'm working on something rote, and I can imagine seeing them at a concert if I ever start going to concerts again. (Maybe.) It's comfortable and interesting music. I love having Beach House songs stuck in my head.
For books, I already wrote about my favorite book of 2022, My Dead Book, by Nate Lippens. When we look back at literature of the Covid pandemic, My Dead Book should be at the top of the list. Otherwise, I've been reading novels by Doris Grumbach, who recently died. I think my favorite is The Ladies, about a lesbian couple in 19th-century England (it has a very Gentleman Jack vibe, if you saw that show on HBO), but Grumbach's other novels are also very interesting. Her characters tend to lead sad, desperate lives before they are abruptly killed off, which may not sound very entertaining but reflects a reality of life -- especially gay life -- in the twentieth century that I don't believe we as a culture have come to terms with. Doris Grumbach writes in a very clear, erudite manner that recalls other celebrated writers of her era, specifically jerks like John Updike and Philip Roth. As time passes, let's hope their books sink into the sand as the work of Doris Grumbach -- more truthful to more kinds of people -- lives on.
If playing Spelling Bee and Wordle count as a reading books, I spent a lot of time reading this year. Note Clio's reaction to my dumb joke. As usual, I watched some television, but I don't remember any of it, so I have no recommendations beyond a plea to write to Japan and ask them to resurrect Terrace House, which will always be my favorite television show.
Back to the garden, I wanted to mention another highlight of 2022, which was that our woodland peony flowered for the first time. The flowers were pleasant enough but -- wow -- the seed pods were amazing, and they opened up in the fall, when every garden needs a splash of blood red.
We planted the seeds, but they take several years to germinate. Be sure to check back in 2028 for updates!
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