Something New; Something Old; Summer's End

The last day of summer doesn't officially arrive until September 21, but, up here on the Canadian border, a few leaves on some stressed maples are already showing red and some of the ferns, lush green a week ago, are going brown. More drastic, the kids are going back to school tomorrow. Goodbye Summer 2008. Short, sweet and wet.

I went skipping around my corner of the blogiverse today and found that most of my frequent haunts have been lightly maintained of late. The same has been true here. The "something new" in today's title refers to this fresh post, the last one having gone stale almost as fast as a Montreal bagel, and some time ago. I assume that most of my favorite bloggers have been dealing with their lives away from the computer. Well, there is that whole child-rearing, family and friends visiting, earning a living business with which to deal. These distractions have occupied me nearly completely for the last week or two. Work, dentist appointments, school shopping, etc. Worse, we had a party here this weekend, and what a time-suck that was.

The point was partly to celebrate Whusband's achievement of a Great Age earlier this summer (the party had to wait because his birthday arrived while I was visiting my mother in Florida); and partly for a last hurrah before the school schedule enforces its discipline on all of us. We had about 20 people here last night to feed the mosquitoes. Poor things. (The people, not the mosquitoes.) Let me tell you, in case you didn't already know, but it is a deal of work getting a lawn party for 20. Oh, now I remember why we don't have big parties! I had part of a glass of red wine at about 6:30 PM. It often makes me sort of flushed; between that, 12 hours on my feet, 90 percent humidity and a sheen of bug spray, I looked and felt like an escaped mental patient. Still, everyone was as nice as pie and, who knows, now maybe we'll get invited some places. We have great leftovers too. The silver lining: salsa, chips, and vegetables already cut up into little bits.

This being my last blog post of the summer, I will go out with one more book-collecting note. This AM, while my company was sleeping in, I went out "for milk." Oh, and, uhm, I might swing by the auction too, I told the kids, quietly, away from the Whusband a/k/a BatEars.

Result, a half gallon of 2 percent and a box of kids' books from the 1940s. Alas, the library book sale season has ended for another year, and I am back to paying auction prices. Oh, and the Last House is chock-a-block with musty books from the basements and attics of my fellow Vermonters. I really have to stop buying books and plates, someone help me! But, this box, the box in question from today's auction, contained Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, a first edition, and I happen to know that it is my mother's favorite children's book. She's getting it for Christmas.

The great fun for me of an auction box lot is getting it home and prowling through it for treasures. This lot contained a few others, besides Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. Nothing with terribly great monetary value, although a few might get ten or twenty bucks on ebay on a good day. Some may head that direction. The great thing about them was, as usual, the covers and the illustrations. I think my favorites, on this basis, were two books about the "Teenie Weenies" by William Donahey. Until today, I knew nothing about these two-inch characters or their creator. Luckily, we all have Wikipedia now and here's some of what I learned:

William Donahey (19 October 1883 – 2 February 1970) was a U.S. cartoon artist and creator of the Teenie Weenies, a comic strip about two inch tall people living under a rosebush.[1][2] The strip appeared in the Chicago Tribune for over 50 years.[1][2] He drew the Teenie Weenies characters for a total of about 2100 strips. His work appeared in places all around the world.

The color illustrations were particularly fabulous. Does MOMA have this guy's stuff? they should.

Here ya go:











And now to bed. Goodbye, goodbye summer...

The Light in August

At last, a beautiful Saturday in this rainy summer and your hostess was fighting a summer cold. I did get out long enough to take out the trash. On the way to the barrel, I noticed how beautiful the light was in the leaves. So, here you go, it's all I got for today.

A good friend told me once that he thought, or someone said, that William Faulkner had the best titles of any novelist. Light in August, The Sound and the Fury; Go Down, Moses, Absalom Abasalom! Pretty good, aren't they? I don't think I have ever made it through one of Faulkner's novels but I am a champion reader of titles... I can't look at the Light in August and not think of Faulkner. I guess that's an achievement in itself (for him).

Happy Bennington Battle Day!

(Photo from www.linkvermont.com)

The great state of Vermont today honored the victory of the Americans at the Battle of Bennington. That battle was fought on August 16, 1777 and is commemorated in Vermont by a big Monument (q.v.) in the lovely southern Vermont town of Bennington and, equally important, by giving a paid day off to all us good state civil servants. It was really an important battle. Wikipedia to the rescue:

The Battle of Bennington was a battle of the American Revolutionary War, taking place on August 16, 1777, in Walloomsac, New York, about 10 miles away from its namesake Bennington, Vermont.[1] An American force of 2,000 New Hampshire and Massachusetts militiamen, led by General John Stark with aid from Colonel Seth Warner, along with elements of Vermont's Green Mountain Boys, defeated a combined force of 1,250 dismounted Brunswick dragoons, Canadians, Loyalists, and Native Americans led by Lieutenant Colonel Friedrich Baum that British General John Burgoyne was attempting to push through the northern Hudson River Valley.

Thank you General Stark for preventing the (then) evil British from having their way and for stopping them and their cronies from strangling our infant country in its cradle. Thanks also for getting me this day off.

I, appropriately, spent my Battle Holiday buying stuff in Vermont. Mostly it was school stuff for Kid 1 and Kid 2 but I also, finally, stopped by this little antique store that I have been driving past for 15 years. I don’t think it even has a name, but it looks so enticing. The owner was a tiny little guy selling cheap stuff, some of it good, mostly not, but what a great little place. I bought a pair of Made in Japan ceramic bookends from the forties or fifties (I am guessing). Two bucks. I’ll try to get a picture into a future post.




That isn’t me going into the store, but another sister.

The owner told me the building was one of the three one-room school houses that once served the little town of Eden, Vermont. So glad I stopped in, at last.

The Fair! The Fair!

Kid 1 and Kid 2 and I went off to the Orleans County Fair today, the opening day of the Big Event. The fair takes place every August in nearby Barton, Vermont. It's a real agricultural fair, though it also includes all the rest of the income-generating fair claptrap as well, naturally. Because it's still small, and out of the way, and run by local people, it has some genuine charm. I didn't even so much mind the bail jumpers, ex-cons, and assorted traveling folk who man the rip-off skill games and barely-bolted together thrill rides. The animals and the farmy stuff (tractor pulls - ox pulls, we saw both) were the high points. Today's banner is a table-full of wee bobble heads that were on offer just south of the usual fried dough/cotton candy/funnel cake/ Italian sausage gauntlet. We looked at the bobble heards, I photographed them, Kid 1 demonstrated the bobble head action (see the video below) and then we moved on. Here's some more of what we saw today. Kid 2, and Snowball. Look at the faces of these cows. Surprised by beauty... And how bout this guy? More dignity than a cage can contain. We had lunch at this little stand that was down by the barns. I have seen it here in previous years. The burgers were good and served by a high school kid from the local Christian school. (The stand is a fundraiser for the school). He was very sweet - obviously just learning the hamburger selling routine. This stand is called "Mem and Pep" which gives me a chance to do a little Vermont cultural interpretation for you people from away. French Canadians call their grandparents "Memere" and "Pepere" - sometimes shortened to Meme (two syllables, i.e., muh-may) and Pepe and sometimes Mem and Pep. Needless to say there are beaucoup Vermonters in this part of the state who are descended from French Canadians. There are still a lot of middle aged people around here who spoke French at home growing up. The people from whom we bought the Last House, the Bouchards, were an example of this. Even a few generations down the line, when the Vermont kids don't know any French "Mem" and "Pep" survives. This nice kid explained to the guy behind me in line that they hadn't figured out how to turn out the fryolator. It was the first day of the fair, afterall. We spent a few minutes in the grandstand, a wooden structure that looks like it was built a hundred years ago of kindling wood. Smoking is strictly prohibited in the grandstand and this is an excellent thing. One cigarette butt and, one could imagine, poof - spectator barbecue. I was so impressed to see the way the guys handled their tractors. The ox pull was even more amazing. Could you get oxen into a yoke, march them into the ring, back them up to a sled and get them to pull it? I know I couldn't. These rural competencies don't get the respect they deserve. The tractor pull was loud though, too loud for Kid 1 Colorful locals, and their tractors and RVs, much on display. We ate one bag of cotton candy (kids did - I can't face it); I did have piece of fried dough and Kid 2 and I had a maple creemie (Vermont soft ice cream) at the Maple Sugar house. Once a year for fair food... Today's admission allowed unlimited access to the rides but, having told the Kids yesterday that I didn't trust the safety of these travelling midways, and because they were generally freaked out by the hawkers of the games and the scary tatooed people, loud music etc. they wouldn't get on anything but the merry-go-round. This is uncharacteristic, especially of Kid 1, but I wasn't going to complain. I wasn't riding on anything, Lord knows. Just before we left for the day we had a little encounter with the Hurdy Gurdy Man. I always wondered what a "hurdy gurdy man" was. I think the only place I have ever heard of one is in that trippy '60s song by Donovan. The orangutans on the back of this gentleman's little car waved an American flag (mechanical orangutans, I hasten to add). Doesn't he look like a nice man? What a face. He offered Kid 1 and Kid 2 each a five dollar bill... But, oooops, can you believe it? They weren't real money! Is a county fair a place for this kind of chicanery? It turns out the back was printed with some semi-cryptic religious message, compliments of the Hurdy Gurdy Man. Kid 1 said this fake fiver was the best thing about the whole fair. And, a last look at the fair gimcracks of 2008:

Natural Wonders of Vermont Photographed Today - Big and Small

This morning, a walk in the woods...




I learned just now that these ghostly little plants are not a fungus, but a regular plant:
Indian Pipe is a unique herbaceous plant, easily spotted by it's waxy-white color. Sometimes it can be pinkish colored. Indian Pipe lacks chlorophyll and thus does not use photosynthesis. Without the need to capture sunlight with leaves, Indian Pipe is morphologically reduced, having no branches and vestigial leaves that are reduced to membranous fleshy scales. It is a perennial plant which can reach 20cm in height. Blooms first appear in mid July and continue into late August. The number of flower parts may vary but there is only a single flower on each stem. The flowers droop down towards the ground at first later becoming erect as the fruit matures. The fruit contains extremely small seeds.

And in the evening, cloudscapes...

Dramatic Skies Over Vermont; and Is My Dog A Druid?

Never fear, I am mentally stockpiling Blog Posts of Substance, but no time now for gassing on at length about anything in particular. Just a couple of pictures.

We have had rain, rain, rain, here on the Vermont/Quebec border. Inbetween downpours, we have periods of clearing that feature great, towering thunderheads sharing the sky with wispy cotton-candy tear-aways. I haven't had my camera handy when I have noticed them previously, but tonight after dinner I snapped this one, with WHusband, in his new mosquito repellent Lawrence-of-Arabia headgear, in the distance. We have had better clouds than this lately but these were still pretty nice.



No red skies tonight, indicating "a sailor's delight" - i.e., good weather the next day. (Back in law school a friend -- one of the smartest women I have ever known -- tried to persuade me that the saying was, "red sky at night, sailor take fright." Physics degree or no, she was wrong. We all know it's "red sky at morning, sailor take warning," and that a red sky at night is a sailor's delight but I digress). More rain is in the forecast for tomorrow.

One thing that makes our farm a good place for actual farming is that it has almost no stones on it. A river, the Missisquoi, runs through our back field and I think the whole place was a lake bottom during the last Ice Age. (We rent the land to our friendly local organic entrepreneur for a little more than a dollar a year - the only farming our family does is in a weedy garden, unless you count lawn mowing; we do lots of that).

A few stones turn up here and there, however. Most came from a stony load of manure our farmer brought a few years back. Whusband found these in an area of grass that we mow and made this little stack, which always puts me in mind of a wee Celtic deity. Maisy was demonstrating a strange interest in these this evening and it makes me wonder if she has druidical tendencies. Hmm. We can't possibly have a pagan dog.



Funny, one day my good little seven-year-old Catholic School boy called me into the backyard to see this little construction - all completely his own work and his idea. Did someone say pagan?



The flowers and leaves look like an offering.

This temple or altar or whatever was well-constructed and it stood on the roadway down to the back fields until the farmer knocked it over with some piece of farm equipment. I could tell that he had really tried to avoid it, however. It survived many passes of the tractor and the cutter bar before it went down. He is an organic farmer, after all, and therefore no doubt the next thing to a druid. I'd better keep him away from Maisy.

Home to an Empty House and a Book Sale Shocker!

I suppose one day it will be sad to come home and find no husband or kids but that day is not today.



I see from the caller ID that they took a call at 10:30 this morning from our friends from Oxford (UK) who are visiting their place in the vicinity of the Last House for the month of August. We knew they were coming and we have all been looking forward to seeing them. I surmise an invitation was delivered and my lot left in a hurry to accept; disregarding my entreaties/warnings/threats delivered as a I left for work this morning that the toys be off the floor and laundry put away before I got home. Toys everywhere. Laundry wet in the washer and unfolded in a heap on the other wing chair. I am, however, leaving everything as is. If they were here, I would be forced into action and correction. As is, I can rest among the mess. I woke up at 4:45 this AM and thought, why not just stay up? You know how that goes. You just feel awake and there are so many things to do. You know you will pay later in the day, but the place is quiet and you have it to yourself. I had some bills to pay and I wanted to view that DVD I owe back to the library. It also turned out that someone had bought one of my ebay books so I had a package to prepare. I traded emails with my friend Annmarie, who also has two kids and who was also up and an ungodly hour to enjoy a productive pre-dawn.

I didn't write the checks I swore to myself I would do first thing; I did, however, wash the kitchen floor on my hands and knees by 5 AM; even before I had coffee. Then I watched Raise the Red Lantern on my computer with the headphones. I liked it, though feeling the press of time, I had to speed through a little bit at the last. It's a regular wallow in pre-communist China, beautifully photographed and costumed and putting me in the mood for the major dose of all things Chinese we are all going to get at the end of the week.

Then, everyone got up. I showered and dressed; delivered cereal and warnings about a messy house, and went off to work (forgetting to put Raise the Red Lantern and the other DVD that was due today back into the car, naturally).

So, I thought I would grab a quick snooze now, sans famille. But can you believe that even as I type this they have all just pulled up to the door? (Not visiting with the Brits but just at the grocery store and library.)

Oy.

So, here's the book sale shocker. I stopped again at the library sale in Stowe on the way home today and got two more books. Nothing too special. The librarian told me as I was paying (I know her from the gym) that when this sale is over on August 14, the books go to be recycled i.e., trashed. I thought they put them in the basement for another year. Really, a shonda as my Yiddishe friends would say.