ypsi~dixit

Y. and friend took the Old Chicago Road into Detroit, as neither of us are overly fond of highways. Michigan Ave. near Detroit offered many examples of one of Y.'s favorite art forms, which is signs hand-painted on the sides of businesses. Y. loves these rough-hewn murals and regards them as a particularly charming Detroit art genre (Ypsi has a handful).

Y. pored over Mr. Plant's extensive and varied plant-table, selecting three li'l plants to grace my kitchen window: an aloe, a stubby pink guy, and a marble with spikes, all as succulent as the day would turn out to be.

The market boasted fruit and vegetables of all kinds, plus cider, popcorn, pigs' heads, a truck full of live, bored sheep, and...bunnies!

To her momentary dismay, Ypsidixit was informed, near a crate of beets, that the American Dream has been cancelled.

Y. and friend left the market building and headed for an antique shop just southeast of the market.

Here, Y. and friend were mesmerized by a blender. Not just any blender. A built-like-a-tank, 20-pound early-60s Osterizer "Galaxie 10," complete with little atomic-swirly icon signifying the advanced science behind this sublime chrome-y creation. Y.'s friend chivalrously granted buying rights to Y. Earlier they'd seen a lovely lurid tapestry version of the Last Supper, and Y. had said that her similarly atheist friend's "birthday was coming!" Y.'s friend mumbled, "Yeah...and I'd like the Galaxie 10." A few bats of Y.'s eyelashes, or, more likely, her friend's generosity, solved the question of ownership of this jewel.

Thus far, Y. had scored the gleaming Galaxie 10, and, from a little Mediterranean food shop, a mouth-watering tower o' Moroccan sardines (blue boxes), anchovies (red tin), stuffed grape leaves (round can), and a tempting tin of "Flokos" (black and white tin). I have no idea what Flokos is, but it has a picture of a fish on it, which was good enough for Y. Oh, and two boxes of yummy falafel mix. And two little candies which we ate on the drive home.

Y. and friend visited a real old-timey general store, in business since 1877. This store was full of everything from cheap, well-made baskets to an international selection of gourmet food treats. Y. bought anchovy paste and violet gum, and her friend, who is also laudably part Dutch, bought Droste pastilles and (as did Y.) hopjes (Dutch coffee candies).

At another nearby antique shop just next to the pizza place, Y.'s friend became mesmerized by an 1870s sewing machine. It turned out the vendor who'd dropped it off proved elusive, so we didn't get a price on this item...but it was a lovely machine.

On to the Heidelberg Project. Much diminished from its glory days, this arresting art project still offered plenty of weird tableaux to enchant us. We wandered all over the site, and noted the rather high number of cars that slowly drove through, obviously taking it in as we were. It was a popular spot.

We met and cosseted two kitties here, both of whom were very affectionate. Y. and friend surveyed a rank of decorated vaccuum cleaners next to what appeared to be Tyree's home and office.

After soaking in the H. project, Y. and friend headed to nearby Belle Isle. The sun was low and sparkling on the water, with the RenCen to the west. Lovely view over the steel-grey, icy river. Y. and friend examined the giant, elegant marble fountain.

After sadly surveying the "AQUARIUM CLOSED" sign on the exquisite 1904 aquarium, we crept into the nearby Victorian-era hothouse of the Botanical Gardens. Here we were dazzled by enormous palm trees, dainty fragrant orchids, the cactus room, and the secluded fern room (where a sign helpfully advertised, "FERNS"), where we rested for a moment on a bench.

Y. surveyed the lush plants just outside the quiet fern room while slouching tiredly and happily against her stalwart companion. It was a day of lush warmth, wonders, sun-sparkly water, and, hidden away and under wraps, the most verdant growth and richness in the coldest of seasons.