Politics Tuesday, Mar 12 2013 

and the ramifications there of.  I try very, very hard to not let politics creep on to this blog; its audience is presumably not looking for my opinions on that subject.  I think I can comfortably leave it at the statement of ‘if Esperanza wasn’t in Connecticut, I would Never, Never live here’.

However, I have mentioned once or twice the importance of quality workmen; indeed of craftsmen who truly know their trade and can be trusted without a doubt.  For about twenty-three years we have had a carpenter of that variety.  A consummate craftsman able to build both a house and a fine china cabinet.  He has also annually hunted for deer on the property, helping to keep the population effectively checked, which is of major importance for success in gardening around here.  His work is always good, his prices always fair, and I can trust him with the keys to the house.  The men who have worked for him over the years have been the same way.

It was with some dismay that I learned that he is moving to one of the Carolinas; and not the urban area, though as a person skilled in luxury home building, he could do well there. 

Why? Well, Much lower property taxes, no state income tax, better schools, less nit-picky regulation, people actually building houses, and above all a culture less routinely insulting to his way of life: father, Baptist, gun-owner, hunter, libertarian, as willing to debate the humanities as hunting.

I wish him well.  I hope we can find someone of his caliber left in the state…he isn’t the only one to have left recently.

 

From the Guestbook Thursday, Mar 7 2013 

September, 1915

“A Tribute to Mrs. Ellsworth

Thou wouldst be loved?

Then let thy heart

From its present pathway part not

Being everything which now thy art but

Nothing which thou art not

And thus thy quiet ways, thy grace

Thy more than beauty

Will ever be a theme of praise

And love a simple duty.”

Anna Barnes

That ‘but’ on the end of line 4 doesn’t seem to scan well, but what do I know! I can’t figure out who Anna Barnes was, there is a middle name but the initial is illegible.  The Mrs. Ellsworth would have been Helen Yale.  I must say that our standards of literacy seem to have dropped if that is the sort of thing one casually jots down in a guestbook….

Moonlit Romances Tuesday, Feb 26 2013 

Between critters, that is.  Last night was a lovely, nearly full moon night, not very cold.  The trees were casting great, black shadows, and the amount of light was very great.  And, despite the large amount of snow, there is no question that spring is well on the way.  In addition to the Great Horned Owls calling back and forth from the hedgerows, and the multitude of cardinal males chasing one fewer female (during the day), there were the skunks.

We have had one perfectly gorgeous big skunk, nearly all white on the back and tail, for about a year. He/She now has a friend, equally large.  They were cavorting out on the snow near the flagpole garden, always a favourite location for the skunks.  Exactly what food they were finding, I don’t know.  But that didn’t seem to be what was on their minds, anyway.

It was rather fun to watch them.

Random Information Saturday, Feb 23 2013 

Not actually going through and counting, mind….but following an off the cuff comment, I tried to count up the doors in the house.  That is, doors designed for people to walk through (not cabinet doors).  I think I got 83 in the main house; the outbuildings take that to 109.  My count might be off by one or two, it is surprisingly hard to get all of them!  And no, double doors don’t count for two, nor do storm doors.

That is entirely too many!

Fox in the morning Sunday, Feb 17 2013 

The last few days, the repeated snow flurries have created perfect conditions for seeing tracks, at least when the wind hasn’t been up.  The barnyard is a veritable highway: skunk, dog (or coyote), cat, and possibly fox.  The latter was finally proven this morning. 

I happened to look at the window at the field, about an hour after dawn to see a fast moving shape halfway down the field.   Clearly no cat, this!  Big fox, beautiful bushy tail, those long legs, and the ears.  The shape is distinctly different from a coyote.  He (or she) was getting pushed about a bit by the wind; but was definitely heading somewhere.  They checked out a possible mouse and then headed down the field before ducking into the hedgerow, about where there is a break in the stock fence. 

If I hadn’t been looking, I could have walked across the field afterwards and missed him.  He had no problem running on the top of the snow, which in that area is hard and the loose snow had blown away.  How much we can miss, and so easily!  It was nice to finally have visual proof of a fox.  A lot of people claim there is a large population* but I have only seen them twice in this area.  I have actually seen more of them, or of British foxes, in cities.

*which they usually blame for the loss of their chickens, cats, and yapping dogs…

Golden Dawn Thursday, Feb 14 2013 

Sunsets here are very obvious, with the great sweep of the meadow and the far hills, one can never miss the exact point in time when the sun sinks below the horizon.  Sunrises, however, have an entirely different aspect.  If the trees weren’t here, of course, they would be just like the sunsets.  But the trees are here.  So the sun rises behind them, as through a curtain of lace and green silk.  Early morning light is more ‘alive’ than sunset somehow, it is lighter. * Today, with a fresh inch of new snow on all the trees it was even more so.  Gold light, dark green trees, and diamond white snow.

And then not fifteen minutes later, the gold had vanished, and the day turned bright, with a clear blue sky, white snow under a distant sun.

*I am a closer to a poet than a scientist, thank you.

Birdwatching Thursday, Feb 7 2013 

About this time of year, the birds start to get ready for spring.  A pair of robins hanging about; male cardinals practicing their songs, chickadees, owls, all gearing up; and, once in a while a flock of starlings.

The latter, thank heaven, don’t hang around for long.  They are, however, quite interesting to watch.  Whereas the over-wintering, native birds are confident and independent; the starlings act like a school of hyper-wary bait-fish.  Anything will set them off.  Even the robin approaching with a bit confidence will spook them, the entire flock will go whirling off and the robin will stand there looking puzzled.  Same with a titmouse or cardinal in a bush, or nothing at all.  The native, non-flocking, birds don’t behave like that at all.  I got the distinct impression that there was no sense of communication between the starling flock and the native birds, almost as if they didn’t recognize each other; which most assuredly is not the case with the chickadees, cardinals, titmice, etc.

I think the starlings were after sorrel/plantain seeds on the flagpole lawn; they have since vanished.  They were a bit locust like, frankly.

File Shuffling Saturday, Feb 2 2013 

As these things tend to around here, one thing leads to another…One gets a new freezer…one shuffles the table and file cabinets about to fit it in correctly.  Well naturally, one therefore has to shuffle the inside of the file cabinets right?  There are a few simple rules: if it is in order, keep it in order; if it is a book or bound print, it doesn’t belong in a file cabinet but on a shelf; all oddments go in a drawer concerned with oddments, not scattered through the paper.  Priority in fire-proof cabinets is given to things that really need the space.

So reams of genealogy* get chucked out of the fireproof cabinets, by taking the bound books out, a remarkable amount of space is created.  Slightly random collections are organized, therefore creating more space in what had been thought to be a ‘full’ cabinet.  Voila: a completely empty fireproof cabinet.  How fast do you think we can fill it?

*Disconcerting to see one’s name neatly placed in a book.

Concerning letters Sunday, Jan 27 2013 

One of the most entertaining aspects of the letters between Julie and Morris is the odd aside.  I suspect that it is in part the writing style of the era; but more that because they were apart so much of the time these asides added the visual, day-to-day touches that created an immediacy of connection.  For example, a long letter mostly discussing business, the future prospects of their daughters, plans for Esperanza and the employment of a farmer is abruptly broken:

“There is an organ grinder under the window in the driving snow, and my Kitchen Goddess has just bestowed upon him a quart paper of something and great handful of cookies.”

and then the letter returns to business.  An otherwise dry letter suddenly has a visual element in it and is forcibly brought into time.  Morris, sitting at his desk in New Orleans, has an image of a street scene and a well known view from a desk in Hartford.  Skype for nineteenth century.

Photo of the day Friday, Jan 18 2013 

Because, while sunny it is cold out there; so a memory of June.

IMG_7803

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