Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

O, NEK. I hope there's some hope in sight. A stretch of dry weather and a lot of muscle would do a world of good. There's so much damage, it's unfathomable. One of our favorite high school teachers lost his home of 50 years-- the flood just knocked it off the foundation. Gone. He and his wife were evacuated with just what they had on their backs, from what I've been told. It's heartbreaking. People with fragile medical conditions are stranded without a means of getting their meds. Entire areas are flooded, caved in, and I don't see how they can be repaired before winter. It's awful. The devastation is a blow that may knock the NEK to its knees. I'm glad to have spent a good lot of my young adult life there, but I'm also really glad I don't live there now. I hope they get some real help, manifested by grit and some financial assistance. We could use a few prayers too; G's foot surgery is scheduled for Monday, but there's been a hiccup in t

The Northeast Kingdom of Vermont is washing away. That's not hyperbole; St. Johnsbury is almost impossible to get into or out of this morning. Another storm swept through last night and dumped over 7 inches of rain on the already pummeled areas around us. There's new damage, there's worsened situations, and the Passumpsic River is not expected to crest until this afternoon. We have new/ worsened damage here in Littleton, as well, but nothing like that. I sure hope that the FEMA reports have been done in pencil; the totals are rising as fast as the water, and people's hearts are sinking like the road beds. People I know are stranded in their homes, no roads left, and the water is rising in their basements.  If we don't figure out how to convince folks that the climate emergency is upon us, then nothing will change. Likely, nothing will for generations, even if we could "fix" this right now, but at least we will be trying to correct a deadly course that is a

"We will be creating so much electricity that you'll be saying, please, please, President, we don't want any more electricity. We can't stand it. You'll be begging me, no more electricity, sir. We have enough. We have enough." --DJT, July, 2024 I am reminded of a piece titled My Life and Hard Times by American humorist James Thurber, in which he talks about a family member who is deeply suspicious of electricity: "She came naturally by her confused and groundless fears, for her own mother lived the latter years of her life in the horrible suspicion that electricity was dripping invisibly all over the house. It leaked, she contended out of empty sockets if the wall switch had been left on. She would go around screwing in bulbs, and if they lighted up she would hastily and fearfully turn off the wall switch...happy in the satisfaction that she had stopped not only a costly but a dangerous leakage. Nothing could ever clear this up for her." Thurber'

We need to take a cue from summer; it's time to take a breath. Summer is still with us, but the cooler mornings and heavy dew when we wake up remind us that the earth is still turning, whether we notice it or not. I think we should notice it. The birds, the crickets, the other small denizens of the dense weeds and brush behind my house all know enough --are instinctive enough-- to accept each day as it comes to them. Do they make plans for their safety and comfort? I suppose those are plans, but likely it is merely preservation, borne on the wind and in-born in their species. I feel that clicking and ticking myself, this need to clean up the nest, and prepare for whatever comes next. But today, I hope to just do what needs doing, and be done with it. I want to accept each moment, each sip of coffee or hymn at church, as it comes to me. I won't fret (at least I'll try not to) about things beyond my control: weather, the temperature of the pool, G's upcoming doctors'

Cool summer mornings give me a hint of what is to come, and my heart is crying "not yet, not yet." I can't help but hear the whisperings of fall, and I want to ignore them. In fact, I must ignore them. While the summer has been (so far) decent --the weather's been nice, the garden boxes are producing, I've gotten a little pool time and reading time in-- I do not for one minute feel relaxed or renewed. Too much stress. Things are unbalanced, and my soul is yearning for quietude.  There are no guarantees of balance, either. I hope that after G's foot surgery, we'll be in less of an anxious holding pattern, and on our way to restoring some normalcy. The summer concerts, the beach trip, even going out to eat have all been put on hold. We can say there is always next year, but practical experience tells me that there is never a guarantee. It is my hope and goal to grab a few sunny, warm, quiet days before the necessary shift to school-schedule happens in just a

A week or so ago, I wrote a post here on my blog that garnered me a warning from FB. Since then, it's been restored, and my request for review either a/ must have been honored, or b/ it disappeared-- I've heard nothing. That said, today, Vox Populi had a poetry post blocked-- for "inappropriate subject"-- and the poem that triggered this blocking and warning was a poem by English pre-Romantic/ Mystic William Blake. The poem, titled "Auguries of Innocence," is quite familiar, at least in excerpt form, at least to those of us (geeks?) who study canon literature.  It begins with,  To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour A Robin Red breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage... Now, then. Blake was a true visionary, in the sense that he literally had visions. As a young boy, he said he saw a tree full of angels. His artwork graces the early printings of his poetry (he was a sk

How do we manage when people we otherwise know and are related to insist on stirring up the poo? I try not to engage with the people I can't avoid, but it hurts my heart when I hear them go on and on about how great a person, how wise, articulate, how "right" Trump is. It quite literally makes my stomach clench. I have never had a real issue with honest-to-goodness conservatives; we might not agree, but we can remain cordial. T. is no conservative; he is a charlatan, seeking pats on the back and TV ratings. He is hoping to stir enough toxic waste into the process that folks will avoid it at all costs and stay home, disgusted but also disenfranchised. Like the folks who live down the road from me with their bedspread-sized Trump 2024 flags. I see they finally took down (maybe it wore out?) the "F*ck Biden" flag that was hanging proudly from their porch. That flag served as a backdrop to the bouncy house birthday party for their grandkids. Those photos ought to be

The morning is cooler and damp, with more rain in the forecast--summer rain, not the gully-washers that have plagued the northern region in the last month. I have very little on the to-do list today, just bathrooms and doing those infernal, boring GCN modules that we have to wade through every year. I understand, sort of, why we must do them, but seriously, after 36 years, I think that I understand how to identify bullying, how not to use my school email for personal gain, and what blood-borne pathogens are. I wish we could just comp out of them, but there's no gaming the system: we must watch, slide by slide, and take the little quizzes. They take about two hours total, so I usually wait for a quiet, rainy day. Today is rainy-ish, and the extended family is off to Boston for one of Tim's regular check-ups, so I am not babysitting.  That said, the national news is percolating with the usual stuff, so there's nothing new to discuss or commiserate about. Things are going alon

It is raining, it's Tuesday, and it's another day of waiting. I hope I can be patient with things beyond my control. G is supposed to schedule surgery for his foot, but can't seem to find anyone at his primary provider to see him. They have had a revolving door (actually, more like a slink out the door) of PAs for quite some time. He hasn't been to see any one health care person more than once in over a year. They keep reassigning him to whomever is new, but then the newbie leaves in the meantime. This is frustrating. He has to have authorization from his primary, but they can't seem to dig one up. Maybe today. We need to get on with things. The system is broken, as we all know, but gee whiz. Let the man get his foot dealt with, please. I don't mind the rain, because there is so much to do outside and I am not able to do it, so the rain gives me a good excuse (and I don't have to feel bad). I did go out and pick berries and beans yesterday, which was really

"May you live in interesting times" has never been used as a blessing. And it's true, for quite some time now, we have been living in a series of paradigm shifts. Some have been cataclysmic: the Covid pandemic, global war zones, climate stressors, etc. Others have been nationally impactful, such things as the horrible reality of mass shootings and the riot at the Capitol.  Then, there are other things for which we have no real roadmap or prior experience to build schema on, such things as a felonious presidential candidate lying and manipulating large crowds of willingly duped individuals. There is also the counterpart: President Biden choosing not to continue his candidacy, in order to focus on the very complicated job he has before him with a contentious Congress and global autocracies and wars, and to make way for a younger generation of leaders. Truly, this can be seen as an honorable, patriotic act. But what now? The pundits have been hounding Biden for weeks, actual

I am sickened and appalled at the fact that at the end of the RNC, yard signs were handed out to all participants that state "Mass Deportation NOW--2024." These deluded, horrible cult members who masquerade as neo-Christians, as Christian Nationalists (Nazis), have taken our country on a terrible path. They are NOT Christian, nor are they God-fearing/God-loving humans. They should try reading the Bible instead of weaponizing it, selling it for a campaign fundraiser, or signing it, as T. has done-- narcissist that he is. Over and over again, the Bible tells us that immigrants and those in need deserve our help, our welcome, and should be treated as guests:  For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will dwell with you in this place, in the land that I gave of old to yo

I love sleeping with the windows open, letting the cooler night air in, hearing the last birds and frogs settle into sleep, and even the hushed hum of a random car going by is soothing. Until it's not so peaceful. Eleven o'clock last night, three separate deployments of emergency vehicles streaked by, lights and sirens in full blare. There went sleep for quite some time. I understand I live on a main road, and I also applaud a quick response to emergent situations, but omygoodness ... the sirens. Usually, it's only lights, and I don't notice, but sirens that late? The sirens are, I thought, to warn folks to pull over out of the way, but at that hour, there's usually no traffic at all. Whatever the case, I hope all is well with the situation.  There's been a lot of MVC reports this summer; some have been due to poor roads after the heavy rains, and at least one lately was a collision with a moose. The others, crashes and roll-overs, are not so easily explained. I

Green beans! Last year, due to the incredibly wet summer, we didn't harvest beans until fall. Yesterday, I was out and about, poking through the garden boxes, and I was shocked to see a full picking-worth of beans! Literally just a few days ago, there were only blossoms. Clearly, the warm weather and soaking rain has made the beans happy.  Tomatoes! I have a nice handful of cherry tomatoes, with promises of so many more; I planted several varieties, and as I walked by the garden box, I lost count of the fat, green fruits. The plants are already well over five feet tall, too, so it's a pleasant jungle.  There are baby cukes on the vine, G's squash garden is burgeoning, and the fruit trees are laden with fruit. I have never seen so many pears. And those trees are over 40 feet tall, so likely we'll have to leave some fruit to the winds and the birds. The berries are popping, too-- I love going outside and coming in with handfuls of blueberries or raspberries.  This is what

Up a bit later than usual, so this one will be a short note. I'm pondering the plotless puerility of today's toddler programming. PBS Kids has a wide array of children's offerings, but some are just plain stupid. Thank goodness for Amazon (yeah, I know, that's complicated)-- at least we can get Babar and Madeline . The same goes for so many children's books. Most have no plot. They are awful. I'm glad I kept a bunch of Meg's, and thank goodness for the Little Critter stories.  Thus goes my day, almost every day... C

Chris Bohjalian's newest novel, The Princess of Las Vegas , is a helluva barn-burner of a novel. The premise is fairly simple: a Vermont girl, Crissy Dowling, with a measure of talent and a need to run from her own past happens to look a lot like Princess Di, and she has developed a performance ( not a tribute!) that mixes events from Di's life with some old chestnut songs. She has a residency at a B-list casino just off the strip, and she is pretty darn successful, at least professionally. Her personal life is a bit of a wreck, but she manages that as best she can. She has some dependency issues, but they are mostly just part of her daily routine. So is ignoring her sister back in Vermont. Her sister, Becky Dowling, has her own set of problems, some stemming from their difficult childhood, and others the product of professional burnout as a social worker who works with troubled kids and families. She has entered into a relationship with the separated-but-not-yet-divorced fath

Last night, I zoom-attended what was billed as a discussion by the noted historian, Heather Cox Richardson, one that was supposed to focus on "Project 2025" and to explain its complexities. While Professor Richardson's explanations were interesting, she didn't end up being the focus of the session at all. Instead, the founder of the hosting organization, Red Wine and Blue, pivoted the session to a sort of pep rally/ how to organize locally to get the word out and to gather support against this really draconian proposal. Over 35K viewers were in the zoom room, and many more watched on the Facebook feed as well. I left just before it ended, as I had no interest in break out rooms by state, etc. I'm not really a "joiner" and I need time to process what I am learning about. The parts I was interested in are the ones where HCR kept apologizing for being "nerdy"-- I wanted a fair and reasoned discussion, one that would help me understand the legalese

A good friend of mine posted yesterday on her blog that her pathway to keeping her sanity is to stay off the news feeds as much as possible and to engage in meaningful and joy-producing home-centered activities. I tried that yesterday, and it was a good day, for the most part. I admit to getting very caught up in the news cycle, especially since the bizarre events of two days ago. What is niggling at me about the violence at the political rally is that the very same people who are crying foul (and they should) are the ones who also vociferously cry foul at any attempts at sane gun laws being put into place, especially regarding the possession and use of AR-15-style weapons.  Another tragic incident involving another young person who, as the reports are indicating, may have felt isolated or powerless.  That's the sort of thing I'm so worried about, going forward. Too many people reach for a permanent solution like gun violence, and we have to do something far more robust about i

So, Zoom. Love it or hate it?  I happen to love it. Granted, long hours online, staring at the expanded Brady Bunch boxes can be tiring; your eyes are constantly tracking, looking for recognition from people who can't make eye contact with you. It's odd in the extreme. That said, we can attend poetry readings and lectures anywhere in the world, and that is the blessing.  I listened to brand-new poems by my poet-friend Meg Kearney online last night. I heard poems that were both sweet and spirited by another poet-acquaintance of mine, the inestimable Laure-Anne Bosselaar. Both of these fine writers are people I met in person at The Frost Place years ago, but due to distance, I don't get to see them in person. Well, I do get to see Meg K once a year; we go out to eat when she is in Franconia on her annual writing retreat.  I have another Zoom reading cued up for this afternoon; another poet I met through The Frost Place, but never in person. I wish I could have, and maybe som

It's estimated that the damage in Littleton is somewhere in the neighborhood of one million dollars, a full tenth of the overall budget. That's painful. Other towns nearby sustained damage as well, like Dalton. There are few ways to get in and out of Dalton now; the roads are gone in large part. The only mention so far of NH Gov. Sununu is that a local man who is running for state office has contacted him, and the assurances were made that the governor will do what he can to support the damage report as we look for FEMA assistance. That pretty much comes to official "thoughts and prayers"-- it's disheartening, but unfortunately, also not surprising.  But the sun will come out, the humidity will eventually lessen, and the birds keep chirping along. Mother Nature has a hissy fit, then calms down. The damage to us humans is in our infrastructure, homes, businesses, and in our psyches. When will the "next one" happen? Because it will. And I hope we can prepa

NH Gov. Sununu asked President Joe Biden for FEMA relief money yesterday-- for the damage and flooding done in APRIL . And it was granted immediately, which is nice. But northern NH has been hit incredibly hard by this recent storm --entire roads are gone--every road in Dalton is washed out. Bridges are compromised. People are literally cut off by road damage and closures. I wonder if we'll have to wait another 3 months for him to ask, or will he think, O, gee, I just asked for some money, it looks bad to have our hand out again... NH is a state that, in many ways, is almost two states. There is the affluent "Mass Lite" south of Franconia Notch, and then there is the "real" northern NH that we live in. Our local budgets cannot support the kind of repairs that need to happen, and it's not cosmetic. Life/safety is compromised. And we have heard not one single word. Northern Vermont got the worst of it, on the very anniversary of the major damage and flooding t

Many years ago, I had the experience of reading James Clavell's The Children's Story , and I've used it many times since in classes. I find it very interesting that the story was initially written as a response to the Cold War, but it was reissued in 2022. The summary on Amazon reads, In this classic and chilling tale about an elementary school classroom in post-war occupied America, James Clavell brings to light the vulnerability of children and the power educators have to shape and change young minds. Originally written in the Cold War era, Clavell's extraordinary and enduringly relevant allegory on the impressionability of the human mind is still read in schools around the globe today, and is a call to every person to keep questioning and keep learning. If you haven't had a chance to read it, I highly recommend it. Kids are taught the Pledge of Allegiance , but, in my experience (36 years of it), not one of them has ever been asked to consider what they are parro

Anyone who does not think that climate change --the climate emergency-- is a real threat should take a look at the "weird" weather we've been having. Some of it may be cyclic, yes, but the extreme weather events are not the "usual."  Tornado warning in Woodsville, NH?  Tornado warning in Whitefield, NH? What the hell-- tornado warning for MY HOUSE? (Only one tree came down beside Meg's house, but much of the area sustained some pretty awful damage.) Let's not even get started on the powerful, off-the-actual-charts hurricanes. Or the intense heat for weeks and weeks without relief (and don't even get me ranting on the inhumane, evil practices of DeSantis in Florida-- some of our fruits and veggies are being picked by people who are literally dying of heat there, and it's pretty much all at his doorstep). And Project 2025 --rebranded with a shiny new cover as Agenda 47 -- lists NOAA among the agencies that will be eliminated (along with Dept. of E

A lot has been said about the separation of church and state in the United States, and it's becoming one of the most misunderstood and heated conversations going. Because of some people's religious/faith traditions, they feel a calling to dictate to everyone else in ear --or media--shot how their lives are to be lived. If we were anywhere else, o, say, in the Middle East, they'd be crying foul, hollering "Sharia Law!" and they'd be right. It is a form of sharia-type theocratic rule that they are trying to enforce.  There are those who feel quite strongly that this country, and its Founders, intended this to be a Christian nation. Not so. There is only a reference to a "creator"-- and that's not dodging the question at all. Some of the signers of the Declaration of Independence would not have identified as Christian, at least in the way that people now see it. Some were Deists, others, Quakers. None of them would recognize today's ultra-conser

I start each day by reading the local paper. I really shouldn't; most of the news is depressing or annoying, and the letters to the editor are, by and large, written by people who, as my dad would have said, shoot off their mouths before their brains are loaded. Homicides rest next to sad news, bordered by a selectman in a neighboring town who wants us to all be better prepared for thermonuclear war. He recalls having to hide under his desk as child, as part of the drills. He feels that it is the safest protection against nuclear fallout. What the merry hell.  I, too, started school that way. We had those drills. But in no way were we ever told or convinced that the desk would save us from nuclear fallout. It was to protect us from falling ceiling or flying glass. At any rate, today's desks wouldn't save anyone from much at all; they tend to bend when someone sits on them. And little kids are often seated at group tables, so there's that.  I'm fairly certain that no

I'm missing my poetry friends this year, so very much. The conference is going forward in Monson, Maine, and I am here, sitting at my keyboard, sending out my heart-vibes. It is hard to not be there, as their presence in my life is one of those necessary things. Alas, attendance this year was not possible, and it's my challenge to figure out how to do without. In other news, my reflections about the Headley translation of Beowulf is "live" on MicroLit Almanac . I am always so grateful that they make space for my musings. It's truly a superb book, and it was fun and restorative to write the piece. Of course, humbling moment: I found three typos, errors all mine. I sent the edits to them to fix, if they can be fixed. But I appreciate the opportunity to share my thoughts, regardless. This morning started out really foggy outdoors and in my head. Coffee is a good idea. Hope your day "burns off" as well. C

Y'know, that storm last night was a humdinger. I'm glad there's no visible damage outside for me to hustle out and repair. Maybe that's a metaphor for what's going on in our country at the moment. Maybe it's a whole lot of bluster and wind and inclement situations, and we'll wake up and find that, while stuff is wet and bowed down a little, it did not break. I sure hope so.  Today, I read at church, which is usually at least okay, if not a good thing altogether. Sometimes the readings are not that exciting, just part of the ongoing scriptural round of the year, but other times, I get to read passages that call out to me in some way-- those are the really good days. So, the reading from the OT today is from Ezekiel, and it starts with, "As the Lord spoke to me, the spirit entered into me and set me on my feet..." Talk about a good pep talk! Ezekiel must go to some obstreperous people, truly rebellious ones, and tell 'em what's what. He'l

In case anyone is still thinking that we educated folks are over-reacting to the Project 2025 threat, there's this, taken from Heather Cox Richardson's discussion posted last night: The extremism of the MAGA Republicans was on display in another way today as well after The New Republic published a June 30 video of North Carolina lieutenant governor Mark Robinson, currently the Republican nominee for governor of North Carolina, saying to a church audience about their opponents—whom he identified in a scattershot speech as anything from communists to “wicked people” to those standing against “conservatives”—"Kill them! Some liberal somewhere is gonna say that sounds awful. Too bad!... Some folks need killing! It's time for somebody to say it.” OK, so, about that so-called paranoia? When Project 2025 outlines a plan to use military force to break up protests, it ain't gonna end well. And I have neighbors here on my street who proudly display their Trump paraphernalia