Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

You know how it is said that "it takes a village" to raise a child, or to confront a difficult situation? It does. And I, and my little family, are so grateful for the villages we are a part of-- both in the physical sense and in the digital. It is humbling to know how many people care. We've always strived to be of use, to help when we can, with whatever time, talent, or treasure we have. God has a way of making sure we are seen when bad things happen, and we have to trust and pray that things work out. That said, asking for help is not in my nature, but this situation is larger than we can handle. My son-in-law is waiting now for a heart. He is in the hospital three hours away, and my daughter is trying to manage all of this, financially, physically, and emotionally. There's Holly to consider as well; she misses her daddy, and she is a busy little two year old. We are circling our wagons. Geoff and I are doing what we can, but, as I said, this is a big task, and he

  “The house was very quiet, and the fog—we are in November now—pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost.” ―  E.M. Forster,  Howards End I am not, as a usual practice, a re-reader. I remember all too well how a book ends, and that takes the fun out of it. However, there are some books that do call me back to the mystery, and I've been itching for a while to return to Howards End . I wrote my final paper for my MA-LS on the book; I focused on what I saw to be the intent of the phrase "Only connect--!" and I disagreed with most of the scholarship out there. (Go figure.) That said, the book still shimmers in the back of my mind. I think it's got more to say to me, and I have to get back into that shifting world to find out what else is there.  That said, I have a HUGE to-be-read pile. And I'm still working my way through Russo's Empire Falls (highly recommend). I love the writing and the characters, and the setting is so familiar to me, both the physic

It snowed. After a wet, slushy day yesterday that devolved into pesty rain, it decided to whiten up the world a little overnight. And it's not a lot-- maybe an inch-- and it is, I will admit, pretty. Well, prettier than the glops of grey slush that lined the streets yesterday. It doesn't seem to be slowing anyone down on their hurry here and there past my window as I type this to you, so I won't complain. And I won't complain about dishwashers anymore! I have yet to run a load through the new one that is finally installed, but it's there, and it's waiting for me patiently. We sent out for pizza last night (thus, no dishes to run yet), as the installation process ran into dinner time. But how exciting! It even plays a sweet little fairy-tune when it's done. I feel loved. Other than that, not much else to report. I still have a gross head cold, but that's boring. I'll reschedule my dentist appointment and try to make a hair cut appointment, and the lau

This morning, I'm counting my blessings, and the first thing on my list is the two-hour weather delay we have for school. I have a head cold and I'm rather tired from this long Thanksgiving break, so sitting quietly, listening to the fixed pellet stove tick and hum while drinking coffee is a true gift.  I had a guest speaker cued up for school today, and now I'll have to try to reschedule her. It's not critical, though-- and I hope she gets my message that we are on delay time. One small complexity, but I can roll with it. The other small juggling of schedule I need to figure out is the impending delivery of the new dishwasher-- finally-- which is supposed to happen between 12-4 today. Well, with the delay, I won't be home, but Meg will keep an eye on things. I just hope the cruddy weather doesn't push the delivery further into the future.  November has been a weird month, yet again. So many extremes, so many issues with technology and appliances and so on. And

Sometimes, life hits you with a curveball and knocks you out of the batter's box. This is our current situation: my son-in-law is quite ill (he's a cardiac patient and his meds have stopped working right), and he's in the hospital in Boston. We are rallying our resources and forces to help keep things moving as well as possible for Meg, Holly, and Tim. And of course, it's Christmas season. That's where I come in. Not just me, of course, but since this is my favorite season, and I have a little flexible time at my disposal, I'm making it my mission to keep Christmas coming for Holly, and for the rest of us as well.  We went to see Santa on Friday while Tim went to get labs done. Holly was so happy! She was not shy, and she was as excited as can be. Yesterday, she and I did lots of little, fun things, which culminated in her putting the glittery star on top of a child-sized Christmas tree. She declared it "perfect, Mimi!"--which of course, made me happy.

It's strange to have this five-day stretch of time to use as I need/would like to. For once, I did not make a bunch of research papers or other pressing essays due for the Thanksgiving break--and I am thankful for my prescience (or just sheer dumb luck?)-- I am getting things done, but I'm not frazzled. And this being the "early" Thanksgiving, I feel like I've been gifted an extra week before the rush and chaos of getting things ready for Christmas.  Not that I overdo Christmas stuff anymore-- yes, I used to, and I was always purely exhausted, and couldn't really enjoy the season. I've pared things way down, trust me. I putter away at house decorations, and there are not that many of them, comparatively. The lights outside are all solar, and have been up for a couple weeks. The bits and bobs I put around the house are easily done-- and, as of yesterday, most of it is done. I don't put out dozens of snowmen, nutcrackers, and other small things anymore.

Today, I'm thankful I don't feel the need to go out at insanely early times to march myself into a large store to get discounts. There were years in time past when it was something I looked forward to-- "slam shopping" with Meg and scooping up deals was a sort of sport. Not now. I don't need the hassle, and there is nothing we need so much that I'd immerse myself in that scenario. It doesn't hurt, of course, that "Black Friday" has expanded into months and months of "great deals" and so on. I've almost completed my gift-buying, and it's all been a gradual thing. I'm also not going to overload any of us with unnecessary "stuff."  I think one reason I've pared down my gifting is having had to deal with clearing out my parents' home when we had to sell it. The accretion of piles of just plain stuff was scary to confront, and I will not do that to my family. I'm not quite Marie Kondo (even she is not as str

“We pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won, but exact their dues of work and self denial, anxiety and discouragement.” ―  Lucy Maud Montgomery,  Anne of Green Gables I am very grateful for my faith, my family and friends, for a warm home, useful work to do, good food to share, and the chattery brain I seem to be possessed of. While each day can provide its small challenges, it's the overcoming of those challenges that makes a life worth reflecting on, and today --and, honestly, every day-- I am pleased with outcomes. Anything worth having takes work, and I'm very happy to have things to do and to write about. Thank you for hanging in there with me and my little blog, my poems scattered out there in the world, and my book reviews. It feels good and necessary to write, to reach out and muse "aloud," and this is the way I can do that without people staring. I am very thankful f

I've been musing and amusing myself with various silly poem ideas revolving around the Thanksgiving kerfuffle and chaos. I hope you have a safe and happy day, however you choose to spend it. Blessings, C Giving Thanks, 2023 Let's see what I have to work with: One appreciated, much-needed day  to prep and primp and polish, to cut  and dice, fuss, fret, bake a pie, create memories and savory meat dressing, make lists. Forget them. Run errands  and forget other things, and through all  this busy-ness, stir in a few moments  of joy and laughter, family and friends.  Add a dash of quiet and peacefulness.  Glaze all with a bit of snow and slush,  if you must, but keep everything snug,  safe within your heart where it belongs.

Well, the loose ends that gave me interrupted sleep are still loose, but my sleep was less chaotic, so that's something.  It's cold. I mean, actually cold, not just chilly or inconvenient. Nine degrees. And there's snow in the forecast, but I think it'll mostly miss us, which is fine by me. Yesterday had lingering flakes all day, and the weather pundits are saying cold and rainy tomorrow (boo, that is miserable). Living in New England, the weather is an ever-present figure in any story. And this is true for most, if not all, New England literature. It's not just setting; it is also the entity against which the characters in the story must contend, over and over again. Or it dictates the food, the clothing, the activities like a silent cruise director. In short, the weather is not just a passing mention, it is a full-on presence.  It's surely a presence in my life right now; it's slipping through cracks and rushing through quickly opened-and-shut doors. It si

Two.More.Days.  But who's counting? Me. That's who. Then I can buckle down and get stuff done? Hm. Not that I think we need even more time off for Thanksgiving, but given the list of things I want to do, want to cook, decorate, clean (always cleaning), I need a little time. This mental scramble is likely the reason I had really disjointed, chaotic "brain dump" sleep last night. Bleah.  And I woke up to 24 degrees and snow cover. Not unexpected, maybe pretty (I have to squint for that one), but still-- sigh. I hope they send the part for the pellet stove today. I hope it's the answer to our ongoing problem.  There are a lot of loose ends going on, it seems. I am waiting to hear back regarding a small question I had emailed to the editor assigned to my little book-- I'm supposed to sign the contract (yay!), but I have a question I want an answer to before I do so. Hope that doesn't mess things up. It probably won't, but still, another unravelling thread

" For all of you are children of the light *  and children of the day. We are not of the night or of darkness.  " ( 1 Thessalonians 5) From the two readings at church today, I had fully intended to chat with you about the first of them, which is my favorite: Proverbs 31 , in which the value and virtue of a good wife is extolled. I've loved that reading for all of my adult life; it is a rebuke, of sorts, to the fundamentalists who would like to see women relegated to silence and obedience, with little to no accolades given.  That said, I found myself drawn to, and strangely comforted by, the words of St. Paul's letter to the Thessalonians. Now, I often have a quibble or two with St. Paul's world view, but not today. I have needed to feel some reassurance, and I haven't found it anywhere for a while. The horrors from the war in Gaza and Israel, the ongoing destruction and devastation in Ukraine, the violence, rancor, and vituperation festering in our own country

I stayed up way too late last night watching a movie. Was it worth it? Yes, for the most part. I got caught up watching The Other Boleyn Girl , based on the novel by Phillipa Gregory. I've read a few of her novels in the past, and I found them enjoyable; not as thoroughly embedded with history as, say, Follett's or Sharon Kay Penman's novels, but decent historical fiction nonetheless. The film did not disappoint. The costumes were lush and costly-looking, the cast was stellar (Scarlett Johansson, Natalie Portman, Benedict Cumberbatch, Eddie Redmayne, among others), and the events fairly reasonable to follow, even when clearly departing from what we've learned in history texts.  What I'm mostly thinking about it the lack of any agency for women, both as portrayed in the film and throughout history. It's not a secret that women have been (and still are, in some ways) chattel or bargaining chips, disposable commodities and useful for only their wedding and bedding

So, it's Friday. The part to the pellet stove may or may not be the correct fix- jury's still out. It looks like it's still not working right, though. The dishwasher delivery has been pushed to November 27th-- not one dang bit of help for holiday dishes, and who knows if it'll even come then.  Disappointments, both of them. What won't disappoint me is the housework, the paper grading, etc. Those are always with us.  And the cold-- after a couple of days of sunshine and slightly warm temps, we are promised cold weather for the weekend. Cue my real disappointment that the pellet stove may not be operational.  We found out yesterday, too, that our paychecks will be mailed to us instead of direct-deposited next week-- so, with the holiday, that may be late, too. I can't fathom why, but I'm not a computer/payroll guru. I feel like I'm pushing a whole lot of string. The GOP, when they figured out that they can't get along and get any work done (surprise?)

Thursday--hooray, we are almost there! By "there," I mean the part for the pellet stove is due today. And I hope it works. And tomorrow, the new dishwasher is supposed to come (I'll still have to contact the appliance guru to install it). And it's one day closer to not having to rush around in the morning quite so much. All good things, I hope. I miss being warm, and I really miss not having my hands in hot soapy water twice a day or more.  Weekends are not "rest days" in my house, but I do get to structure the busy-ness in a somewhat saner way, at least usually. I will have chores, errands, and so on to do, but I don't have to be "on" quite so much. People wonder why teachers are so tired; hey, even rock bands get a break in between sets. The break we get is often less than five minutes between classes, students streaming in and out, and if we have to use the bathroom, there's usually a line. So--rush rush rush. And teaching is often very

One week 'til we have a nice break for Thanksgiving. I am thankful, for one, that we have been granted the full day before the Turkey Day off from school-- time to get things prepped, time to take a breath before diving into holiday foods, time to enjoy family before the usual little spats over matching table settings erupt (there won't be any of that-- I have new flatware).  Why do I put so much emphasis on making things "nicer" than usual? I think we are programmed from birth, both from social expectations and family traditions, to set certain almost impossible standards for ourselves and our guests/family members. One of these years, I'm just going to scale it way back, and focus on what I'm thankful for --those same guests and family-- and not worry about how many pies and how big a bird. A couple times, we went out to dinner, and that was lovely, but then, no leftovers, and that was kind of sad. It's a balancing act. Granted, I've given up the who

Dark, cold, and relying on the oil heat which I will leave set on 62-64 degrees. Part ordered for the pellet stove; we pray it's the right one, the answer to the conundrum. If it's not, then who knows? Maybe we will (finally) get a professional's opinion. That said, G consulted with a professional, who said it is a good guess that what is wrong is the exhaust. I, for one, am exhausted. That said, it's interesting that out of three people G called and left messages for, only one phoned him back. There is a dearth of tradespeople, both locally and nationally. I suspect they are swamped with calls, and when there's too few people, we have to wait. Same with medical care of all sorts-- waiting for eye appointments and dental appointments is expected, and the wait is several months.  When I hear there are "no jobs" I wonder where folks are looking. Pay rates are generally a hell of a lot higher than they were pre-pandemic, and there are help wanted signs all o

Ah, the shoes drop. Pellet stove woes. It's time to call a professional; G does a good job trouble-shooting, but I think it's time to have someone who specializes in fixing these things. And of course it's 25 degrees out. Sigh. At least we have the oil heat. That said, it's Monday, and it's another busy week. Not as nutty as the last several, but there are the usual things to work with and around-- mostly field trips and seniors having a special meeting morning to work on applications (though many of them have already gotten acceptance letters, so ??)-- limping our way toward Thanksgiving break, I guess. We'll get there. The three-day weekend was packed with house cleaning, errands, and so on. I still have a few papers left to grade, but they are not critical, so they'll get done today. What I really want is a day to just sit and read, but that's not going to happen anytime soon. Maybe over the Thanksgiving holiday? We'll see.  I hope that I can find

Lately, I've been "pushing string" a whole lot, and that never ends well. In fact, it doesn't end--it's both frustrating and pointless. There are a lot of things I can fix, that I can have a positive impact on, or redirect, but there are even more situations that I have no control over. Global issues, national issues, the weather-- myriad irritations or things that cause justifiable distress, but that I must, must , leave up to God. In other words, pray hard, work harder, and keep moving. That said, "stick season" brings about a lot of introspection for me. Maybe it's the stripped trees, the clumps of early snow stuck to curbs, the brown leaves mixing with errant bits of dropped paper all nestling under shrubbery. It could be the flat greyness of the sky that seems just a gradation of the color of the landscape and the pavement. No wonder I love the twinkle of Christmas lights in trees, or the sudden pop of color of a partly-hidden berry on a bush or

Heather Cox Richardson is a smart, astute professor of history and American politics. She provides an in-depth, fair, and reasoned discussion just about daily to help the rest of us make some sense of the circus in Washington and elsewhere around the country. Last night, her letter rang a bell for me: " In Washington, Republicans have empowered Christian extremist Mike Johnson (R-LA) to lead the House of Representatives as speaker, and today we learned that outside his office he displays a flag associated with the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR) network that wants to place the United States government under the control of right-wing Christians. On January 6, 2021, rioters took these flags with them into the U.S. Capitol. Johnson is also associated with a right-wing movement to call a convention of states to rewrite the Constitution" ( Richardson ). That is a disturbing idea: placing the United States under a rigid version of Christian government. Even the staunchest Catholic

This cold and damp day will begin with Miss Dutton's Sally Lund Cake. This is a simple recipe that I made a lot when I was really young, but I have not made it for (too many) years. I woke up feeling pretty refreshed (we got to sleep in til 5:30, no alarms), with the thought of this cake in my mind. It will serve well as a coffee cake--simple, fluffy, and covered in cinnamon and sugar.  The house is warm, smells good, and I have the entire day to do what needs to be done, with a bit of time left over if I get things going! With that, have a great day. Stay warm. And if you want the recipe for the cake, leave me a message! C

This snowing stuff is abrupt, eh?  I got the blinking lights up in the crabapple tree, and I put in a row of lighted snowflakes, with a garden stake of Santa holding a lantern. My outdoor decos, with the exception of wreath on the door and maybe a lit garland on the railing, are done. Just in time. It's cold. That said, the lights are cheery, even if the muddy/brown landscape is not. I need to get those thermal curtains up, either tomorrow or Saturday. The dishwasher repair guru is scheduled to come, as well. And I have to find my heavier sweaters in the closet, do errands, and squeeze in my dentist appointment. Busy weekend, for sure, and I'm glad of the extra day. And it's Veterans' Day on Saturday, though for some reason, we are "observing" it by having Friday off. Again, I don't mind, I need the time. But odd, eh? Especially since the younger school kids are doing Vet-related things today at school--singing patriotic songs and doing a special breakfast

I don't know if it's the season, the hour shift, or what, but I've had a string of unsettled, anxious dreams. It's annoying. I know, in my waking hours, that I'm a competent, capable human. Not so in my dreams. While the setting changes, the feeling remains: I'm uncomfortably in charge of whatever the situation is, and it's always me bumbling along while other people depend on me. It's exhausting. And it's always in a position of defense, so I'm woefully unprepared. Every night. I need a gallon of coffee. That said, I have my long day at work today. Of course. It'll be fine, and my daughter announced that she will be making dinner tonight (HOSANNA!!), so I can focus on some of the niggling little things that are on my eternal to-do list, like packaging returns to send back to companies. And getting those lights up outside before it really gets too cold. And I should mention, there's snow happening, and it's windy out. Bleah.  I sure h

The Former Guy's ego was on full display yesterday in court. How embarrassing it [should] be to have the judge ask your lawyers to get you under control. There were no cameras to perform for, just media coverage, but still, TFG plainly stated that he hoped that the public was watching.  And unfortunately, I guess we were. Kind of like slowing by an accident, curious but grossed out, too.  Apparently, his entire political schtick boils down to this :  " I became president because of my brand ." At another point, he argued about the higher and lower valuation of his properties, because, referencing a photo, it should be clear from the look of the building (Trump Tower), it ought to be valued much higher. A real estate mogul values properties on their looks ? Why not? He did so with his several wives. His employees. The looks of Air Force One. And so on... How shallow. And by that, I mean his voters, the sycophants, the clingers and wannabes.  And of course, the bloated ego

Monday again?  And it's going to be a shorter work week, due to the observance of Veterans' Day. I'm good with that; I have some more complicated autumn tasks to get done, and a free day added to the weekend is just what I need to get to them. I'll wash a few windows (inside only), take down the lighter curtains, then hang the heavy thermal curtains. Say g'bye to daylight. I can push them aside, but they don't do their job well unless they are snugged up. Mid-afternoons, when the sun is coming into the living room windows, I usually do gift myself some natural light. It's necessary. I'm tossing around the idea of putting the solar blinking snowflakes out, too, but it just feels too soon. We'll see. I hate doing it when the ground is fully frozen, and it's painfully cold outside to do frivolous things.  And I hope to see the dishwasher repair man! He's booked up solid, but may have time this week to come assess the situation. I hope it's j

One of my favorite season-related poems is one by Robert Frost, titled "My November Guest." It's a fabulous example of extended metaphor and personification, to begin with, which makes it a good choice to use with classes at school. That said, and before we start picking the poem apart for it's "usefulness," I just want to marvel at the poem as a whole. Sorrow as a guest, one who praises the "bare November days"-- yeah, I like that. I particularly like the idea of sorrow not being a permanent companion, but one who shows up for a while, especially in the later autumn. I recognize that emotion myself, and Frost handles it deftly, with a quiet and gentle touch.  It's good to be reminded that there is a beauty in the spareness of the landscape, and that it is also a good idea to, as needed, embrace and appreciate the quietness of loss and sorrow. And the birds, again! They are gone, and the trees! So many Frost poems have birds and trees. The land

I started watching a limited miniseries on Netflix last night titled Transatlantic, and, after watching the first two episodes, I will go back and finish it. The premise is that there is a young woman of both privilege and morals living in Marseilles in 1940; she works with a few others to smuggle "intellectuals and Jews" out of France. Her father disapproves of her being in Europe at such a dangerous time, and has insisted she return home to Chicago--she doesn't-- and he cuts off her generous allowance. This is where I've left off; I have no idea how she is going to keep funding the cause, but there are already hints that her "friendship" with an older man is one route, and a seedy one, at that. There is an implication that she's used the only tools she has for a woman in 1940, in her position, and that makes me cringe. It's a sacrifice that never really pays off, but it's one that has been made over and over again in human history. It's ki

It's been a very odd week, for many reasons, most of which I don't really need to give digital space to. Suffice it to say, I'm looking forward to a domestic weekend. The light has changed, too; inky smudges of cloud and half-light at 7:10 am, instead of glorious blue. Barren trees, streetlights, headlights, shapes of early risers walking dogs, kids with backpacks trudging by the windows.  I'll miss even this half-light when I put up the winter curtains-- I plan to do that on the long weekend next week. It's tedious and necessary, and it changes the light in the house, too. Everything is shadow, and I have to push back against it with electric lamps and overhead lights instead of daylight. I'll leave a few windows unencumbered, but for the most part, the mushroom grey curtains will block the cold and the outside world equally well until next spring.  This is the time of year we in the north country call "stick season"-- yes, it's later fall, and ye

It's a balmy 30 degrees (improvement over yesterday's 19), and it's Thursday. Baseball is officially over for the year, with the historic win by the Texas Rangers over the Arizona Diamondbacks. I was mildly rooting for the Rangers, since one of my favorite Red Sox pitchers ended up there, and he pitched last night's game.  Patriots football is a dumpster fire this year, and I have my theories why, but it's just a mess. I'll remain faithful, but being faithful does not mean I have to be uncritical. And I think that's the point I wanted to talk a little about this morning. There are those in our country and especially in positions of power and influence who would even deport (!!) people who are critical of the federal government. No dissent over the funding of the war in Israel/Gaza is being tolerated. Both of these acts of silencing are far too close to fascism for me.  I love my country, but some of the things going on make me cringey and angry. I feel the s

November starts with days to pray to the saints and to remember those who have passed through the thin veil and who are waiting to enter heaven. Or whatever their adjudged fate may be. My husband rustled up family photos yesterday and created a make-shift sort of ofrenda in the den in the top part of the computer cabinet in there. I may try to find one of those collage frames for him; there's space on the wall for a large photo.  In church, there's the book of remembrance to write names of the dead to be prayed for; I'll do that this coming weekend.  They are always with us. Sometimes it's a pleasant memory, or a keep-sake, and other times, it's a memory that triggers annoyance or resentment. I am still working those things out. I started this post today, then copied/saved what I'd written-- it turns out I was writing a prose poem about purgatory. I want to work on it, and so, dear readers, I had to start this post over again. Sometimes, writing is how I work t