transformed

As it says in the title, this blog is about the, "signs of the times from rural Vermont", the changes observed in the natural world and otherwise. Some of these changes occur gradually, the turning of the leaves in the fall, the greening of the grass in the spring. Some of these changes occur suddenly, like the appearance of icicles this time of year, and the sound of thunder as the world warms up in the spring. There is no event that brings more sudden and profound change than the first major snowfall of the year. The world is utterly transformed. This occurred for us on Wednesday.

Thank you

Chestnuts and  Hood's golden eggnog on sale in the markets. I'll have a glass with nutmeg on top for you, Pip.

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is, "Thank You", it will be enough.
Meister Eckhard

metallic

Ice on a pond in Ferrisberg. Water in streams and ponds takes on a silvery, metallic quality this time of year. I don't know why, maybe it's the light. Cornfields in Middlebury plowed under and covered with fertilizer.

Cruel autumn wind cutting to the very bones of my poor scarecrow.
Issa
Zen page-a-day calendar

reprieve

We had a reprieve from winter yesterday with temperatures in the mid 60's, but the wheel turns. Patio furniture going in the attic, and putting the snow tires on the Subaru. When I came home from the Zen Center on Sunday afternoon the holiday preparations were already well underway. John was helping Allyn put the lights on the lilac bush in the front. There was a wreath on the front door, and a poinsettia on the island in the kitchen.

almost like thunder

We are in the midst of hunting season, pickup trucks and suv's parked along the sides of roads. Car door sticking because of ice in the doorjamb. Sound of the snowplow, almost like thunder, on the road

the walk

As I've said before, one of the factors that has facilitated this blog over the years is that I lead a boring life. I drive to work. I drive home. I drive Route 7 to the Zen Center and return. I am seeing and experiencing the same plots of land day after day, week after week, year after year.
For the past dozen years, Tuttle Printing has worked out of two buildings, and for 5-6 times a day I have walked between them. The walks over to the production facility have been the most fertile ground I've had for material for this blog. I don't know how many posts have started, "walking over to production." There are blossoms on the crabapple tree in the spring, snow on the picnic table & icicles on the pine trees in the winter, dandylions in the spring, burning bush in the fall along with many, many other opportunities for observations.
But now Tuttle is in the final stages of consolidating into one building. I still walk over to the other building, but it's just once or twice a day. I let some of the workers of the new occupants in, and try to make sure that it's locked up at the end of the day. By the first of December I won't have any reason to go over there at all.
I'm going to miss those walks. They have been a small, but not so small part of my life for many years.

season of chapstick & snow

Signs for Christmas wreaths in West Rutland. Hauling out the chap stick for the winter season. Dusting of snow.

turning

Windy and cold. Winter's farmer's market open for the season. Cars in the parking lot at the ski house in West Rutland. Willows turning, they are about the last to go. Driving through Rutland the other day, temperature reading 42 degrees on the car thermometer. It's amazing how warm 42 degrees feels in the spring, and how cold it feels in the fall.

insight

I've been doing what evolved into this blog since 2007. I see the yearly changes in the world every day, but there are few real revelations. The other day, however, I was walking over to the production building, and walked by some Burning Bush. The berries were still  flaming red, but the leaves were long gone. I realized that the berries will remain rooted on the branches virtually all winter long, providing feed for the chickadees, and other cold weather warriors. As I was walking back to the admin. building, I went past the crabapple tree. Again, the leaves were long gone, but so were the apples. They had also fallen off the tree quite awhile ago. It made me realize that while trees and bushes are all trying to spread their seed far and wide, they are attempting to attract difference species to actually do the work. Bushes with berries are looking for birds to carry away the seeds. Fruit-bearing trees are looking for animals on the ground like deer to eat the fruit and disseminate the seeds in their travels. It was a small but interesting insight into the workings of the natural world that I hadn't really thought about before. This is one of the reasons I keep doing this.

birch

Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations now appearing in stores. The basketball season is now in full swing on all levels, even in Turkey. Andy's girls team won their first game in two years! They've got a great coach. Noticing the white trunks of the birch trees  in contrast to the green of the pines.

blossoms

It is dark when leaving work these days. Looking back when taking the bypass home you can see the lights of Rutland. It is beautiful. There is a vine that blooms at this time in November. It's about the last blossoms we'll see until spring

barren

Green Mountains almost totally barren of leaves. We came over the Green and White Mountains about a week ago, snow on the tops. Have noticed over the years that the really small trees, those around a foot or so in height keep their leaves longer than the others. Wondering if that is just due to the fact that they are so close to the ground, or if there is some other adaptive reason that they keep them so long. Maybe it is a time of the year when they can collect a little extra sunlight.

drama

As the leaves come down, and the corn fields are harvested, the vistas in Vermont grow appreciably. Bird and squirrel nests, which have been hidden all summer long are now revealed. With the bird houses which we have in the backyard, I'm aware of the high drama that unfolds during the summer months. The birds are born, the parents are challenged to nurture their young; to feed them and protect them from danger. In the case of our bluebirds, the danger comes from sparrows who would kill the bluebirds, and take over the nests. I've been known to install some odd looking contraptions on the top of the nests to keep the sparrows away. Sometimes some swallows will take over a nest. That is not a problem as the swallows & bluebirds co-exist nicely. You see the nests in the bare trees & realize that the drama playing out in our back yards is multiplied a million-fold in the fields & forests all over the state. In the spring as the trees leaf out, there is the feeling that a curtain is being drawn to shield the dramatic participant from prying eyes.

sun pillar

Clearing out the garage so the car can go in. Bringing the wood rack down from the attic. Cold weather sometimes brings sun pillars in our neck of the woods. You see them at sunrise or sunset when sunlight reflects off of ice crystals falling from high level clouds.

on the other hand

The long, cold season of darkness is a season of high activity for astronomers. As I was driving home last night, the nearly full moon was rising above the Green Mountains in the east. It shone in a silver/gold, mother of pearl. In the summer, the sun ranges high in the sky during the day, and the moon, in a logical manner if you think about it, is very low in the south. In the colder months, the trend is reversed. The sun is low in the sky, and the full moon cruises high in the blackness. The full moon, the "Beaver" moon is tonight.

As we walked homeward across the fields, the sun dropped and lay like a great golden globe in the low west. While it hung there, the moon rose in the east, as big as a cart-wheel, pale and silver and streaked with rose color, thin as a bubble or ghost-moon. For five, perhaps 10 minutes,  the two luminaries confronted each other across the level land, resting on opposite edges of the world.
In that singular light every little tree and shock of wheat, every sunflower stalk and clump of snow-on-the-mountain drew itself up high and pointed; the very clods and furrows in the fields seemed to stand up sharply. I felt the old pull of the earth, the solemn magic that comes out of these fields at nightfall. I wished I could be a little boy again, and that my way could end there.
My Antonia
Willa Cather

season of darkness, season of light

Daylight Savings Time has passed. The elections are over. It was dark when I left work yesterday for the first time in a long time; walkway lights between the two buildings ablaze. I remember driving to work in the dark the other day & thinking immediately and reflexively about family and friends. They are our necessary support structure during the long upcoming season of darkness. Our attention turns almost automatically from the warmth & light we experience outside to the same that now occurs within the confines of our snug little homes. It seems no accident that the two holidays that most celebrate family occur during the next two months.

seeing your breath

Sound of the ice scraper on the windshield. Birch and aspen turning a bright yellow. Seeing your breath in the morning, although the first time this happened for the year was over a month ago on the Allagash.