Each morning seems to bring ever-thicker mist, until this morning all was blanketed with fog so dense you could barely see the dog on the lawn. Things are different when the air is clogged with water vapor. The other night, just before the moon was full, I paused a moment on the stair landing to look out the window there. It was just beyond midnight, right after the witching hour, deep into the time of spooks and owls and strangeness. The night's mist was just falling, here and there a faint cloud with rounded edges drifting down between the buildings and blanketing the trees. With the light of the moon shining down upon it, it was as if the air was full of silver glitter. I was struck with awe and stunned to stillness there in the middle of the stairway. How do you store such treasure? I often think of Kenny in My Friend Flicka when I pause on that stairway to look out the magic window. He often found himself in trouble for lingering on the stair landing daydreaming..... and I spend more time than I should....every single time, up or down...... looking out at sunset or moonset or mistrise or early-birdtime. Or at snow piling up around the buildings and shrouding weathered boards and rusty tin roofs in pretty Christmas wrapping, hiding the defects, redrawing it all, postcard pretty. I hate it when we have to cover it with plastic once it gets really cold and the winds get to howling. Meanwhile, as fall moves along toward those painful days..... Each morning I go out into the mist before the sun is all the way up to walk the dogs and count the morning glories and listen to the Carolina Wren proclaiming ownership of all surveyed. This morning there was mystery barking until I finally went out again to see what was what, only to come face-to-face with a monstrous-huge grey squirrel striding over to the house. Yowsa, he's a big 'un! And then the mist burns off, the day moves on, and it is as if it never happened until midnight comes again.
As was expected under USDA changes, Brazil can now send fresh beef to the United States, a move that will probably open other markets, such as Japan, to them. Besides concerns about Foot and Mouth disease, which is endemic in that nation, USDA has admitted that at least in the short term, there is little likelihood of reciprocity in markets, as Brazil dumps an expected NINE_HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS worth of beef on our markets. In return we get....$900 million worth of their meat in competition with our own farmers and ranchers, a chance to share a devastating disease........and not much else. Hooray..... Do you miss COOL yet?
People here in Upstate New York tend to have strong memories of 911. I remember way too well, the way it was and the days afterward, the horror, the skies without planes and the tracks without trains, the eerie silence of the valley.
I remember emailing back and forth with my then editor...whom I still miss btw...about how one of the planes turned off course over the very city where this memorial stands, on the new bridge from the other night's walk. Thus it's no surprise that we honor our memorials.
Family folks invited the boss and me for a moonlit walk across the new Mohawk Valley Gateway bridge in Amsterdam the other evening. Alan and Becky came too, as did our family and their little ones, our Amsterdam grandbabies.
Brotherband....
It was a very nice experience. The moon was nearly full, the river was lightly ruffled by a crisp autumn breeze, and the people we met in passing were cheerful and friendly. The girls were sweet as sugar and good as gold, and the bridge was a pleasant surprise.
It was of course, all shiny-new, but it was.......nice...native plantings, a 911 memorial, installations about the city, and a great deal to see and experience, all watched over by a big, pink and silver sky. Thanks, Scott and Jen, Maddie, and Claire, for a really nice night out.
It's Wednesday.......whimsical.... handiful.......prayerful....rudiculous..... quizzical..... not flatilicious.... puddle-wonderful... And a prettiful for putting up with me.....
People who grew up in the sixties no doubt have many bittersweet memories of high school and college. While school years are exciting and can be fun, young men of the era were faced with the draft upon graduation, with a deadly war ongoing, and the people who loved them had lives long overshadowed by it as well.
I was young enough to not lose anyone in that awful war, but the boss, just a few years older than I, lost his best friend and a number of baseball buddies.
We visited the traveling Memorial Wall yesterday at FMCC, something we have hoped to do for a long time, so he could trace their names and honor them in that particular way. It was very sad and moving for both of us, but especially for him. So many names....so many lost loves and loved ones. On the positive side.....many of the names were very low near the ground and neither of us could get down to trace them. A complete stranger noticed the boss struggling and came over and traced all the names he needed for him.....
It often seems as if the hummingbirds say goodbye before they leave, hovering near the windows and looking in at us at the end of summer...and then *POOF* they are seen no more. That is just how it was the other day when a female fluttered in front of the window over the sink buzzing up and down, up and down, tail fully splayed, every feather showing. She wasn't hunting, just looking in the window. Haven't seen one since. So maybe she was saying goodbye. Or maybe she was checking on the sugar water. Because, yeah, the other day I made some up, one part sugar, four parts water, and had it sitting on the counter cooling, a bit of paper over the top to keep out contaminants...like houseflies. I went about my business for a while, went back to the kitchen to get the feeder ready, when lo and behold..... The paper was on the floor and the blue measuring cup nowhere to be seen. I soon discovered its whereabouts though, over in the kitchen sink, empty. I spoke to all and sundry, but there were no culprits to be found...until I thought about how tall our little girl is getting to be and how delicious sugar water might be if you were two. Sure enough, when presented the evidence she quickly admitted that she had taken it. And drank it. Good thing I only make a cup at a time, because evidently paper is no defense against a toddler..
Shortly after our race to get the critters fed and things buttoned up the storm began. First round was nuttin' but rain, with an odd grumble or two in the background. Wet, but no big. Second set came through, a whole nuther ball game. Looked out the big windows to see leaves....lots of leaves...spiraling up into the sky. Then the low, scudding clouds began to show clear rotation. The wind straightened out, the rain began to lash, and we sure did have some weather. It's been really dry around here...... so the driveway washed out and most of it ran off. Still, where there has been one limping morning glory each day...and only if I water the plants...there were three great big ones, all unfurled and proud, hanging out over the driveway. The grass is all green, and although it is hot and humid and sticky, we really needed it. I kinda wish my son and brother weren't working on a job at the bottom of the river though....just sayin'.
Stepped outside to walk the doggies. Looked up. Listened. Felt the air. Took down the laundry and brought it inside. . Sent people feeding, bringing in.....taking care of all that was outdoors. Came in, pretty well caught up, well enough prepared. Then my cell phone signaled a text from the emergency management folks. Severe thunderstorm warning for Montgomery County. Yep, gotcha covered there already.
Autumn sprinkles morning with soft orange light; dainty golden dust shines on every plant and blade. It knows no calendar...winters are long here and it needs to get its show on the road before the snow flies all too soon.
The dusty glow clings to cottonwood leaves, curls up inside, and leaves them fading tender yellow just before they turn loose of the sky and fall. You can smell them on the wind, that elusive fragrance of fall, like potatoes cooking in a country kitchen, calling, who knows where or why.
An hour after daybreak it's all gone, that delicate hue of dawn, replaced by the hard bright of midday. Then the morning glories take up the call and try to out blue the sky before they furl their nautilus curls and fall silent until another day.
This fascinating critter is a potato roaster for the top of a wood cook stove. I wish I had taken the camera to the fair the second time I visited, as the antique department folks had a potato there to demonstrate how it works. The tubers sit upright between the little metal dogs, against the center cone, and cook very nicely I'll bet. Too bad we don't have something like this to use today....oh, wait, we do!The kind gentleman who owns it purchased it in Long Lake. Best guesses go to Carol Williams here on the blog and Tom Cassidy and several who agreed with him on Facebook.
It may have been mentioned that the waterbed wherein I sleep recently sprang a small leak. It was just a little bitty one, but leaks in such items of furniture are bad things, very bad things. We planned and plotted how to drain it and replace it with an air bed, but the job was put off and delayed and procrastinated about until Alan came home. He is home now. We hadn't seen him in close to a month. The boss and Becky brought home the parts that were needed and today we did the job. Or rather Alan did the job. When you have a guy that does things with hydraulics and hoses and gravity and all as part of his job, you might as well take advantage. I was worried about getting it done in a single day...thinking maybe I'd have to sleep in my chair for a couple of nights...and dreading the whole affair. Instead he took me over to the fair for breakfast...can't recommend the Pancake House highly enough....and then we came home and got it done in a couple of hours. Now I have a nice, dry air bed. Good deal huh? I think I'll keep him.
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