June Book Report: Varina

It’s no secret that I love the South despite its multiple shortcomings.  Truth be told, I think our nation has multiple shortcomings and as I love it anyway, it doesn’t bother me to have affection for the South and for Southerners.  I love the landscape of the region, the way the warm humid air settles over the day, the way that the magnolias bloom slowly into flowers so fragrant and majestic they seem unreal.   The South is where I first saw lightening bugs and to this day they are utterly magical to me, twinkling against the dark green of my Yankee backyard in the twilight.  I know that I love them so much because they remind me of Tennessee.

Novels of the South are another reason I love the region so much.  I always enjoy a story with a strong sense of place and Southern writers bring that sensibility to their writing, as if the geography is another character in the story.  Among the very best at that is Charles Frazier, who writes about the South at the turning point of the Civil War with an honesty and fondness that is powerful; neither sentiment tempered by the other and both honest.  He turns a beautiful sentence when writing about the foolishness of the human condition; he understands the war as well as the very best historians and he writes about the South in the same way I feel: honest about its weaknesses and fond of the region nonetheless.  I loved his novel Cold Mountain for that honesty and found the same sensibility alive and well in Frazier’s book Varina.

The novel is the story of Varina Howell Davis, the wife of Jefferson Davis, told from Varina’s point of view.  The book begins in 1906, when Varina, now a widow spending summer at a hotel in Saratoga, New York, has a seemingly chance meeting with a black man named James, whom she knew as Jimmie, a child who lived with her during the Civil War.  James has come in search of Varina in order to reconstruct the story of his own life and Varina tells him what she knows.  As a friendship between the two develops, he asks about her life and from there the novel unfolds, weaving together details of Varina’s life as a girl, as a young wife in Washington D.C., and then in Richmond during the Civil War and after, as her own family fled the Confederate capital as the war ended.  Separated from her husband and struggling to rebuild a life in the aftermath of a war that Varina opposed and now in the 20th century has leisure to regret, she tells the story of her long and varied life to James, who listens carefully and asks probing questions.

Frazier can turn a phrase better than most and the talent is on full-display in Varina.  Each word seems carefully chosen and woven together the story is the brilliant tale of a woman who sat up close to history and saw the horror of slavery compounded by pride and war.  From Frazier’s vantage, Varina herself is fascinating, if imperfect.  From the reader’s point of view, it’s a story well worth reading.

Cat in a Basket

This is not the same thing as a pig in a blanket but it is nearly as satisfying.

Craft Project

Paper crafts make me happy and for summer I have some paper ice cream cones to put together.  They will become bookmarks and notecards; one may turn up on my yearly bulletin board.  But most of all, I enjoy having the time to create something.

That’s happy!

When Persistence Brings Hope

It could be the relaxation of summer.  It could be the juggernaut that is Nancy Pelosi as speaker of the House.  It could certainly be the systemic and daily incompetence that is the Trump shitshow.  It is certainly the addition of young Democratic talent in the House (especially Katie Porter, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and Ilyana Pressley).  But it is especially the organized and coherent policies being articulated by so many of the Democrats seeking nomination to the presidency in 2020.  

For starters, nearly all of them speak of this nation, our people, and our politics in a tone that is measured and thoughtful.  They are aware that words and ideas matter, especially now.  They don’t demean one another and they stand up for the most vulnerable among us.   To this, they add policy ideas and proposals for some of our biggest problems: inequality, reparations for slavery, healthcare, the cost of housing, immigration, student loans, climate change, GLBT issues, voting rights, and more are on their radar and subjects for real discussions and debate.

I am impressed by Cory Booker and Kamala Harris.  But my favorite candidate so far is Elizabeth Warren.  She is exciting, with policy ideas that are well thought-out and good.  Her energy on the campaign trail is impressive.  Her take downs of Fox News and her commitment to speaking to the whole nation are steady and impressive.  Her intelligence and humor are a calming balm in a nation that badly needs a healing hand.  She knows the problems we face and she is willing to face them head on.  The way she tells our nation’s sons and daughters that she’s running for president “because that’s what girls do” fills my heart with hope.

I’ve been happy to see Warren finally get traction.  Even if she isn’t the nominee, I feel like she will be on the team that helps lead us out of the disaster that is the Republican Party and Donald Trump.   And in these days when we are still more than a year away from the 2020 election, Warren and much of the Democratic field are a tangible and real alternative to the horror which has gripped me since Trump’s 2016 electoral college victory.    There is power in hope and we need to remember it.

Peace Lily

I have a bit of a green thumb and I love house plants.  Helping things to grow is rewarding and a way that I help myself to live in the moment.   Most years, I manage to restrain myself and I only add one plant to my collection.  Last summer, that was a pretty little peace lily.  It did well on the front porch and thrived when I moved it inside so that Spring found my peace lily in need of some room to grow.  I transplanted it and then held my breath, because transplants are sometimes tricky. I needn’t have fretted, as the peace lily is coming along quite nicely.

White flowers are on their way.  The new pot provides plenty of space for the plant to grow.  It’s out on the porch again for the summer and I greet it each day.  In return, it rewards me with its lovely self.

Adventures in Local History

Last week, T and I took some time for some regional historical site adventures.  We travelled to Oyster Bay, New York, to check out Teddy Roosevelt’s Sagamore Hill home.  Though the traffic in and out of Long Island was maddening, the visit was lovely.  The landscape of the estate was green and quiet; it was hard to believe we were less than 15 miles from NYC.

On Friday, we went to one of our favorite places, Jockey Hollow.  It’s the site where George Washington and his troops wintered over in 1778-1779 and it’s now a national park.  It’s beautiful all the time, but especially in June when the trees are leaved and the expanse of the fields can be admired.  It’s also the place where T and I had our first date so we always enjoy a visit to the familiar woods.

On Saturday, we continued the Washington theme and headed west to the Delaware River, where Washington made his famous crossing in December 1776.  On the New Jersey side of the review, the home of the ferry operator still stands.  We stepped inside the cool interior and thought of the conversations and decisions made on that fateful evening.  

We took a walk in the steps of the Patriot soldiers and wondered what they were thinking on that cold night.

We crossed over the river to the Pennsylvania side to admire their monument and while we were there spied a pretty medicinal herb garden planted by the historical buildings on the western bank of the Delaware River.

We had beautiful weather on Friday and Saturday.  The much-needed time off was a happy break in our scheduled life.  Adventures of this sort are just our cup of tea.  That’s happy!

Garden Season

Summer has officially begun and right on schedule, tomatoes are blooming in my garden.  

The zinnia seedlings are coming along nicely.

The front yard hosta bed is lush and green, with blooms sustained by all the rain we’ve had this month.  

I can spy this garden from the front porch where I sit and sip my morning coffee and it always makes me smile.

The peach tree has served as a a handy squirrel snack bar but plenty of peaches remain on its limbs, ripening for later this summer.

At twilight, the lightening bugs in the backyard twinkle on and off against the green.  No matter how long I look at them, their glow always seems magical.  There is beauty in abundance as June prepares to slip into July and I am happy to soak it all up.

Talisman

I am a voracious reader and summer is when I come into my own, with time enough to read at least five or six books a month.   All year long, I keep a stack of books to be read.  I build it like a wall to protect against the anxiety about the prospect of "nothing good to read" a terrifying notion that has never actually materialized.  A reckless joy seizes me when summer arrives.  I travel everywhere with my book, eager for quiet moments that I can fill by reading.  

I seek information from other trusted readers, especially lists of happy books, because I prefer that kind of story.  All year long, I add to my pile of books-to-be-read, mixing history and biography with fiction and especially collecting the titles of books which combine the two.

When I finish a particularly good book, I like to savor the quiet in my mind when the last words have been read.  I don’t feel loss because I return to good books as a sort of reader’s reunion, picking up time with the characters of a pleasing story whenever the mood strikes.  Even so, a first reading is always special and there are invariably moments as the number of pages remaining dwindles that I think about slowing my pace.  But I don’t really slow down.  Instead, I scan my bookshelf and select my next read, a talisman against the ending of my current book.  

Juneteenth

In 2014, writing for The Atlantic, author Ta-Nehisi Coates made the argument for reparations as recompense for our nation’s history of racism and slavery.  His argument was powerful and, for many, myself included, persuasive.  A wave  of pro-reparations discussions followed in the wake of Coates’ article, but no policy (or even policy proposals) materialized.  It was 2014 and many white Americans were happily living in the hazy fantasy bubble of a post-racial America.  

Between the activism of Black Lives Matter and the election of 2016, it would be fair to say that the 2014 bubble has decisively burst.  That we are having real conversations on the color of our national divide and the history (and current reality) of racial inequality in this nation is a good thing for all parties, even if it’s been driven by a resurgence of some very ugly racism.   And while reparations payments are still not on the bi-partisan policy table, the idea and arguments for it have become significantly more mainstream.  Elizabeth Warren is running for the presidency and she has a very real proposal on the issue.  Another presidential candidate for 2020, Cory Booker, is also talking about reparations in a serious and thoughtful fashion.  

Today, the House of Representatives is holding hearings about the prospect of reparations payments.  Coates and Booker will be among the supporters testifying before Congress.  That these conversations happen in the midst of a nation no longer under the illusion that we are a post-racial America is a sign of progress.  In 2014, Coates wrote that “reparations would mean a revolution of the American consciousness, a reconciling of our self-image as the great democratizer with the facts of our history.”   His words are a reminder that our past is no distant memory.  I am glad that the conversation about reparations is gaining traction.  I’ve no notion that reparations payments or policies are around the corner.  But on this Juneteenth, we can at least be hopeful.  

Forced Relaxation Fail

A few weeks ago, I liberated a basket from its previous household assignment, folded a cushy towel inside it, covered that towel with some soft pillowcases from my enormous pillowcase collection, and set it by the back deck window so that the cats could curl up and have a comfy nap in the sunlight, one of their primary occupations.

I was convinced that they would love it but I may be wrong.  Except for one awkward moment when Lucy climbed in but looked anxious while she sat there, they have mostly ignored the cat nap basket.  

I still think it looks like an awesome place to rest so I think we can draw the obvious conclusion: my cats are weird.  Possibly, I am equally as odd but we’ll save that discussion for a different post on another day.

The Frenzy

No matter how often I remind myself that it will feel this way, the end of the school year is always a frenzied rush of activity followed by days of quiet that always feel bewildering to me.  After weeks and weeks of waking early to a seemingly endless to-do list and hours later  heading to bed exhausted with the to-do list still foremost on my mind, it all abruptly ends and a quiet descends.  

Suddenly, I don’t need to check my e-mail in the early morning to get a head start on the day.  I arrive at work to a desk piled high with the detritus of the last weeks and silent, dark hallways.  It’s the summer and I have the leisure to take time and get a plan for the summer to-do list.  Sometimes, we take a long lunch in the office aware that there are no children to watch over.  Instead of the frenzy and noise of slamming lockers and middle schoolers looking for missing items, there is quiet enough to hear the whir of the air conditioner or the scrape of the front door to the school opening.  At the end of the day, in the mid-afternoon instead of 5 pm, I pack my bag to go home but needn’t bring any work with me.  Instead, I have hours to read from my own collection of books or work in the garden.

I’m not complaining; far from it.  I look forward to the summer break all year long.  But I do wonder if there is a way for me to balance out the frenzy.  It’s hard for me to transition from busy 18 hours days to time enough to sleep an extra hour, watch a movie from start to finish, to have a nap.  I quiet my mind by reading and cooking, trying out new recipes that take longer to prepare but offer the promise of time at the table with my family.  In the twilight of the evening, I stretch my legs out on the ottoman so that the cats will settle on my lap as T and I discuss our day and make plans for the days ahead.

June is like two separate and entirely different months.  The first third, busy with the frantic close of the school year.  And then the second two-thirds, lovely with  a sense of leisure and endless time to accompany days that are still adding sunlight with each rotation of the earth.  I’d like to bring some of the relaxation of the second two-thirds to the frenzy that is the first third.  And right now I have the leisure to solve that problem.

End of the School Year

No matter how much I try, the end of the school year always feels like a whirlwind.  This year, the whirlwind was magnified by my duty as a chaperone for the our school’s annual 8th grade trip.  We went north, to Salem, Boston, and Plymouth, Massachusetts.  I was exhausted, because it was June, but the weather was splendid, none of the kids got into trouble, and I did have the chance to make some beautiful pictures.

In Salem, we saw some of the sights related to the Puritan Witch Trials of the late 1600s.

Once in Boston, we took a walking tour and saw an old graveyard next to the Boston Commons.

All over the city, colonial buildings tuck in next to more modern structures, as is the case for the old Boston State House.

Throughout the city that day, I enjoyed the blue sky.

At Plimouth Plantation, a reenactment site on Plymouth Bay, I admired the flowers.

The colonial village was packed with field trip visitors like my group, but I did catch a quiet moment in the fields behind the village, as the Atlantic shone in the foreground.

In the end-of-the-year hubbub, I look for any quiet moment that I can find.  I use them to reflect on the year and grasp for just enough energy to recharge my spirit for the final push.  By next week, I’ll be on the other side of the school year, grateful for blessings received (and earned!) and ready for some time off.

Backyard Bunny

There have been more backyard squirrels than bunnies of late but on Saturday, this little fur ball stilled under the apple trees just long enough for me to make a picture.  

I have a soft spot for all the backyard wildlife, even though they regularly eat my garden produce.  I usually plant enough to share and it always seems to me that their presence is just part of the magic that is summer.

Temptations

I’m off on a school trip this morning, with a late Wednesday night return on the horizon.  On Thursday, school closes for the year.  Summer is tantalizingly close.  While I am away with the 8th grade, if I have any spare moments to daydream, I will think about being outside in my garden with the hostas.

And potted flowers on the back deck.

And days still ticking ever longer with sunshine to spare.  That’s happy! 

June Front Porch

It’s June, and in a few more days, school will be out for the Summer.  That kind of happy news calls for the popsicle flag.

The warm weather means that many of the same cast of characters are set out on the front porch.  Even so, a fresh tablecloth is a nice addition.

The houseplants and flowers are enjoying the sunshine and warmth.

They aren’t the only ones; the arrival of consistently warm weather means I am out here quite often.  It’s my spot for morning coffee and afternoon iced tea.  In the evenings, I linger in the twilight and watch the lights come on.  

Summer spells relaxation in my world and it's so very welcome!

June 1: Fairy Garden

The fairies have settled in for the Summer. There is both shade and sunshine  to be found in this corner.  This little garden can be seen from the stairwell landing window when I comes downstairs each morning.  In the early light of sunrise, it feels magical.

At twilight, some of the houses have solar lights that twinkle on and this is equally as thrilling to me.

There is something about this little patch of imagination that quite thrills me.  As the season unfolds, the peaches will ripen and clematis flowers will bloom.   I’m looking forward to enjoying every bit of it.