Vermont

Last weekend, T and drove north to watch JT run in a race in Williamstown, Massachusetts, a town in the Berkshires just along the Vermont border.  The weather was glorious, JT ran a good race, and I got to visit Vermont.  I'd never been and was excited to cross that state off my bucket list.  As expected, it was lovely.  

In both Vermont and Massachusetts, the leaves were just beginning to turn.  

We went to Bennington Pottery, which I loved.

We stopped at several roadside farm stands.  In New Jersey at this time of year, the farm stands are crowded with families.  In Vermont, there were so many farm stands that none were overwhelmingly busy.  We enjoyed the adventure and scored some squash, as one does.  How could I resist?

One stand had lined up rows and rows of freshly-picked pumpkins along the edge of the woods.  It was tidy and neat.

I love pumpkin season and I was charmed.

My bucket list is now filled with more things to do in the Berkshires and Vermont.  

That's happy!  

Seasons

On Sunday morning after two days spent in New England, I took my coffee and book out to the front porch in the morning.  It was sunny and pleasant, warm, but but hot.  There was a slight breeze rustling the fallen  leaves of the neighborhood sycamore trees.  Birds were chirping and in the distance I could near the woodpecker that lives across the street.  It was pleasant and as I sat in the rocker I read and daydreamed about the pumpkins and mums I will set out for October.  I thought of the coming end the front porch season, a transition I only accept because it means warms sweaters and then the twinkling lights and fresh pines smells of December.

I’d made a generous pot of coffee and as I refilled my cup, the breeze picked up and blew clouds over the sun.  The birds began a nap and the only sounds were crickets and rustling leaves.  It was as if my thoughts about October had conjured the arrival of fall.  As much as I’m sad about the passing of flip flop season, I’m looking forward to the seasonal change.  The defined seasons are one of the nicest parts of life in New Jersey and I enjoy the transition to a new season as much as I enjoy the season themselves.  

October 1 Fairy Garden

For 2019, I tried a new method for weed control in the Fairy Garden strip along the fence.  It seems pretty clear that it has not been a success as the weeds are in charge.

Part of this garden strip has always been shady and hidden and while I enjoy the secret in the shade, I think it’s fair to say that I like my shade in the form of ivy, hostas and the peach tree, not the weeds.  

October is always the point when the fairies tuck away for the cold, and in the next week I will clean off the houses and store them away for the season.  Come next Spring, I’ll have a better weed-control system in place so that I can once again enjoy the fairy garden.  I’ll daydream and plan all Winter for this transition.  I’ll likely add a few more things for the fairy residents to enjoy.  This planning will keep me happy in the Winter cold and that’s happy.

September Book Report: Jane Austen, A Life

This is my second reading of Claire Tomalin’s thorough and thoughtful book about the life of Jane Austen.  I’m your standard Austen-o-phile and I love all things Jane.  I first picked up this biography more than 10 years ago.  It’s a terrific accompaniment to the Austen novels but even more than that, Tomalin’s exceptionally well-researched book demonstrates over and over again how much the lives and stories of women have been neglected over the years.

That’s no news bulletin, but as a woman alive in 21st century, at a time when women can’t expect a seat at the table or anything near equality, I’m struck by all that is lost when women don’t get included.  In Tomalin’s story of Austen’s life, she researches the people around Austen in order to gain an understanding of Jane.  One of the things that becomes clear is just how much women’s lives in the 1800s were caught up (and regularly ended) in matters of childbirth.

As a woman born in the 20th century who is the mother of one (indulged!) child, it’s easy to take for granted the ways in which I was able to choose to have motherhood shape my life.  That’s a modern development; one that really unfolds in my lifetime.  Austen’s decision not to marry (and Tomalin certainly believes it was a choice), was in part about avoiding brood mare status and saving time for her writing.

But even that decision does not empower the life of Jane Austen.  As a woman of a certain class living in a time when compensation for work was a male privilege, Jane finds herself frequently at the whim of her father and then the brothers who are expected to support their widowed mother and unmarried sisters.  Even the idea of a home of her own (or even just a room!) would prove a struggle for Jane as she shuttled between relations for much of her young adult life.  Given her personal writings and her novels about the idea of home, one can only imagine how painful that existence must have been.

In the end, Tomalin’s biography wraps itself around many unanswered questions.  The feminist reader and historian in me recognizes that much of what we don’t know about Jane Austen is a function of her status as an unmarried woman of the 1880s.  That women today can expect much more is not lost in me; that we can still not expect equality is infuriating.  Jane Austen wrote impressive and powerful novels, stories that were not bestsellers in her day but live on in my lifetime as a virtual industry of their own.  It seems a tragedy that a woman of such talent and ability could not expect such admiration in her lifetime.

A System of Checks and Balances

It’s no secret that I never liked - or respected - Donald Trump.  Aware that he won the Electoral College but lost the popular vote by 3 million, I felt that he was a barely legitimate president, one whose term in office should be governed by a sense of the fragility of his hold on the White House. 

But from the outset of his term in office, Trump seemed utterly unwilling to acknowledge this reality, let alone govern as if it was important.  The national divide that was present on Election Day 2016 would only grow larger.  At this writing it seems a chasm we may never bridge.

I didn’t call for impeachment the day Trump took office and for some months afterward.  Though I was increasingly horrified by his Administration, and confident that he had earned impeachment through the emolument clause at minimum, I didn’t think impeachment was the answer.  I thought that checks and balances would work.  I found a partial answer in the Congressional elections of 2018, when Democrats and Nancy Pelosi took control of the House of Representatives.  I felt better, as if there might be some credible check on an increasingly incompetent and self-serving president. But I still withheld my support for impeachment.

It’s only been in the past few months, as Trump’s incompetencies have grown greater and more dangerous; as our national divide has followed, that I supported an impeachment investigation.  In my case, it’s been less about the emoluments clause or the obvious high crimes and misdemeanors than it has been Trump’s absolute unwillingness to acknowledge the limits on his power.  He’s a tyrant with authoritarian aspirations and no sense that there is a boundary to his authority.

And then came the Ukrainian phone call revelations.  None of it was surprising, though I’ll confess some shock at the GOP’s continued willingness to support this president and their party-above-national interest-position.  I understand that the House impeachment inquiry poses the risk of being political; that it’s unlikely to end with a Senate conviction.  At this juncture, that’s not the point.  Impeachment is political.  But so is our current crisis.

The point is that we have a Constitution that organizes, demands, and can only function effectively with checks and balances in practice.  The last three years has me fearful that the check and balance tradition has been smashed beyond repair.  A House investigation and impeachment inquiry are the only chance we have to restore the balance; too once again have a Constitutional government.  So I support the House impeachment inquiry in the strong belief that such an inquiry is the only way we can preserve the American system.

If that sounds dramatic, it is.  As a nation, we are at the crossroads.  If we wish to be a nation with Constitutional checks and balances, we must take action.  The option on the table is impeachment.  I support it.

Indian Summer

After some days in the 70s, Summer’s heat has returned in the last week.  That’s a chance for a few more tomatoes and zinnias and the garden is hard at work.  This week’s heat may give these tomatoes enough time to ripen.

There were a handful of cherry tomatoes and a few pretty zinnias.

The tomatoes were had for supper; the zinnias joined the Mason jar bouquet on the table.

I am ready for cooler weather but these Summer treats are always welcome.

Indian Summer

After some days in the 70s, Summer’s heat has returned in the last week.  That’s a chance for a few more tomatoes and zinnias and the garden is hard at work.  This week’s heat may give these tomatoes enough time to ripen.

While I wait, there were a handful of cherry tomatoes and a few zinnias ready to be picked.

The tomatoes were had for supper; the zinnias joined the Mason jar bouquet on the table.

If we can't yet have cooler weather, at least these Summer treats are sticking around.

Representation Matters

This week, with the death of Cokie Roberts, as I teach a diverse group of 7th graders about colonial society, I am reminded again how very much representation matters.  Roberts, a long-standing political reporter and commentator, was an enduring part of my world.  I listened to her on NPR and watched her on ABC news.  She always brought attention to women, especially women leaders, and gave me an abiding sense that women could matter in the political world.  

If that belief was ever tentative (and I don’t think it was), these days it’s foremost in my mind.  I raised a son who learned to value and enjoy women’s sports and I am proud that at the age of 19 he considers himself a feminist and an advocate for women.  I teach in diverse classes with 12 and 13 year old girls and boys; the girls coming of age in a society that regulates their bodies and is prone to underestimating their brains.  These years are formative and in my class I emphasize the empowerment of women.  I do this for the benefit of all of the students and I search for the examples of representation that show the truth of my words.

But for all of these efforts, it’s examples and representation that matters.  When we open our textbook and look at the picture of delegates to the Continental Congress as they contemplate declaring their independence, we mark who is missing.  We read Abbigail Adams’ letters to her husband, present at that meeting and prepared to ignore his wife’s request that he and his peers remember the ladies.  We don't forget the ladies.

I remind them all that someone must go first for the rest of us to follow.  I show them the Americans who made room for others and I emphasize the power of that small change.  And over and over again I remind them that representation matters.  Cokie Robert's passing is a loss for all of us.  I will always remember her with gratitude for the way she always showed me the enormous power of representation.

Early Fall

The backyard is where I first see the signs that the season is changing.  The apple and pear fruit trees lose their leaves first and then the hostas start to look peaked.  The dogwood tree begin to change;  the peach tree follows.  

Old Man Tree takes his time and moves in stages toward the fall.  As if aware that there’s no hurry, he won’t finish the job until the first of November, moving at a stately pace through the month of October.  These pictures were made after I had mowed the lawn and things look tidy.  When the morning light arrives, the once-lush grass has yellow leaves spilt all over.  They clean up when I mow but soon enough the supply returns, more with each cool morning.

Mother Nature prepares for her rest intentionally, moving toward the quiet beauty of Winter with splashes of Fall color that are splendid and lovely, inspiring me to look to my closet for a Fall sweater to wrap around my shoulders in the morning.   That’s happy!

Volunteer Gourd

Last Fall, toward the end of November, the neighborhood squirrels helped themselves to the gourds and pumpkins on my front porch, taking a few bites from each and then moving on for other items on the front porch buffet.  Before the month ended, the pumpkins and gourds were unceremoniously tossed off the porch into the flowerbed below, where they were left to rot over the winter.  I do this a lot, because this produce is good fertilizer.

This year, some of the seeds took root and in August, I noticed a squash vine clinging to a front yard bush.  I’m a curious gardener so I let it bloom to see what would appear.

Gourds.

A few of them, by the looks of things.  The vine is now clinging to several feet of bush, proudly showing the whole neighborhood what a messy gardener I sometimes am.  I’d be embarrassed, but the gourds are nice and I plan to add them to my October front porch display.  In this way, the squirrels can dine again and the cycle of garden life will b complete.