 |
| Last night we had a misty sunset. |
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| And today we had a misty sunrise. |
It is hard to capture in an image how weather like this feels.
I expect ghosts.
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Sunset, Sunrise ....
Occasionally we get hard mists. It usually happens when a cold snap is burned away by warm fall days.
It is hard to capture in an image how weather like this feels.
I expect ghosts.
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio
It is hard to capture in an image how weather like this feels.
I expect ghosts.
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Hinge Season: Fall, Winter and Thanksgiving
A radio version of this essay can be downloaded here.
It is the black-and-white season. The leaves on our trees and the touristic crowds are mostly gone, blown away by the same cold northern rain. The last of the farmer's markets are done until spring. Farm fields are getting workouts before being fallow for a winter's rest.
As some things are shutting down, others are just opening up. The snow on the mountain that is our backyard is a clear sign of work and play to come. Town crews are checking on salt sheds, hunters are breaking out their orange vests, and winter recreators can be heard in every coffee shop from Burlington to Hardwick debating whether to get new winter toys for the woods and slopes or make do with the old.
We also face an election in a few weeks; a biennial addition to the hinge season, and it's been ugly at the top of our races.
It is interesting to see how political campaigns warp and distort much more than they amplify and explain. Vermont's republican candidate for governor is a good guy who has done a lot for his state, especially in promoting small businesses; he does not come across that way in the hard edges of the campaign. The democratic candidate is coming across far more an ideologue than I ever thought he was. Attempting to advertise 'the product' of each candidate -- and run down the opposing product -- hopefully doesn't work in Vermont. We all know each other still. But then again maybe it works more than I think and that's why no one can stand politicians.
But back here on earth, where we have lives to live and kids to raise and lawn furniture to bring in, I am getting my head not around the election but around Thanksgiving. We had a head start this year.
The head start was a dress rehearsal: Canadian neighbors stuffed two turkeys and twenty friends for their version of the holiday, which took place over Columbus Day Weekend. The food was the same as what we are all used to, but there was more daylight during the meal and no football after it -- nothing to lie down to as we tried to digest the big feed.
I wonder, is it illegal for Vermont to break from the American late-November date and join our northern neighbors to celebrate our harvest early? Can we do that? Isn't it the same as opting out of daylight savings? Well, it's a thought.
But Thanksgiving is the real sign we've reached the end of one season and are in the next. It is a line in the dirt: a delineated opportunity to celebrate endings. I suppose it should wait until the cold, hard days are settling in.
Whether we abandon the late-November hunkering down day or not, one thing remains true. It is time to hunker down. It is time to throw straw over the garden, vote (or not), get the skis out of the basement and eat six times more than average on a cold, dark day.
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio
It is the black-and-white season. The leaves on our trees and the touristic crowds are mostly gone, blown away by the same cold northern rain. The last of the farmer's markets are done until spring. Farm fields are getting workouts before being fallow for a winter's rest.
As some things are shutting down, others are just opening up. The snow on the mountain that is our backyard is a clear sign of work and play to come. Town crews are checking on salt sheds, hunters are breaking out their orange vests, and winter recreators can be heard in every coffee shop from Burlington to Hardwick debating whether to get new winter toys for the woods and slopes or make do with the old.
We also face an election in a few weeks; a biennial addition to the hinge season, and it's been ugly at the top of our races.
It is interesting to see how political campaigns warp and distort much more than they amplify and explain. Vermont's republican candidate for governor is a good guy who has done a lot for his state, especially in promoting small businesses; he does not come across that way in the hard edges of the campaign. The democratic candidate is coming across far more an ideologue than I ever thought he was. Attempting to advertise 'the product' of each candidate -- and run down the opposing product -- hopefully doesn't work in Vermont. We all know each other still. But then again maybe it works more than I think and that's why no one can stand politicians.
But back here on earth, where we have lives to live and kids to raise and lawn furniture to bring in, I am getting my head not around the election but around Thanksgiving. We had a head start this year.
The head start was a dress rehearsal: Canadian neighbors stuffed two turkeys and twenty friends for their version of the holiday, which took place over Columbus Day Weekend. The food was the same as what we are all used to, but there was more daylight during the meal and no football after it -- nothing to lie down to as we tried to digest the big feed.
I wonder, is it illegal for Vermont to break from the American late-November date and join our northern neighbors to celebrate our harvest early? Can we do that? Isn't it the same as opting out of daylight savings? Well, it's a thought.
But Thanksgiving is the real sign we've reached the end of one season and are in the next. It is a line in the dirt: a delineated opportunity to celebrate endings. I suppose it should wait until the cold, hard days are settling in.
Whether we abandon the late-November hunkering down day or not, one thing remains true. It is time to hunker down. It is time to throw straw over the garden, vote (or not), get the skis out of the basement and eat six times more than average on a cold, dark day.
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Dogs, Skunks and the Wisdom of Children
(To listen to the following essay, click here.)
Nothing clears out a room faster than a skunk and a dog fighting on a porch.
There we were, sitting around in the kitchen after dinner and someone let the dog out. Within a minute the room was cleared and the dog was a mess. The skunk escaped. A later search of the barn and there she was – a big, fat, hungry black and white demon. I grabbed the ‘have a heart’ trap, slathered organic peanut butter on the trigger and set it.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Radio Post: Yard Sales and Memories
If you click here you will be able to download and listen to the radio version of my essay about yard sales. Thanks for listening!
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio
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