double digits

Getting into the double digit months on the calendar. Yellow band of color to be seen along the tops of the Green Mountains now. The foliage season seems a little late this year, but it has begun. The nest of the tufted titmouse has fallen from its moorings on the ledge outside my office. If history is any guide, she will return in the spring to the same spot.

energy

The baseball season is over. Summer is gone, and there is an energy this time of year as we prepare for winter. I split my wood pile over the weekend. It was cold and rainy, sound of geese heading south in the sky overhead. I split wood almost all day on Saturday. Fortunately the rain was just off and on. A friend came by to give me an estimate on some chimney work, and actually helped me split wood for about an hour before moving on to his next job. I love this place. Somehow I managed to pull muscles in both my wrists. They hurt so much I really couldn't help Allyn when she was screwing together her new china cabinet on Saturday night. I finished up on Sunday afternoon, got done about twilight. Chris Levins, my golfing buddy, came by, and helped me split the large pieces, the same pieces that Erin & I had cut in July. When I got up in the middle of the night, it seemed that every muscle in my body was sore. There is a sense of accomplishment, however, seeing the pieces piled up in the back yard. Now all I have to do is stack it.

on a piece of wood

it breaks your heart

Tim Lincecum & co.

from elcapitan79 on flickr

Rainy. The regular baseball season ended in dramatic fashion on Wednesday.  No world championship for my Giants this year, but they will never be able to take last year away from us.

It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops, and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, and rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just as the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops. Today, October 2, a Sunday of rain and broken branches, and leaf clogged drains and slick streets, it stopped, and summer was gone...

The late Bart Giamatti

Commissioner of Baseball

storage

Rainy. woolly caterpillar crossing the road in Ferrisberg. Young boy walking to school with a backpack and an umbrella. Boats on trailers on Rte 7. This same process was taking place last spring except the boats were going to the lakes then. Now they're heading to winter storage.

shift

Jupiter & the Milky Way
from Alireza Teimory on flickr

Sunny & warm. I feel fortunate to have a hobby that allows me to actually enjoy the increasing darkness that occurs this time of year. Was out doing some star gazing with Pete the other night, Jupiter very prominent in the east. We both noticed that the summer sound of the crickets had diminished quite a bit, but not completely gone. Monday night I was out looking for the northern lights, and noticed that the milky way has changed from its summer position of running north to south in the sky to its east west position for fall. I've gotten to the point that I can conceptually understand many of the movements that take place in the heavens; the changing of the moon and the constellations. I can't wrap my head around this particular shift of the milky way. I'll have to ask Pete.

neighborhood

from Rusty one on flickr

Sunny and mild. There have been a couple of times over the last two weeks when I have gone into the new armory in Rutland Town to serve breakfast to the National Guard. They are helping to make repairs in our area caused by hurricane Irene. It has been a great experience in many ways. It has given me an insight into the military that I never had before, and there is much I admire and respect. They are grateful for what we are doing, and we are, of course, grateful for their efforts.

Preparations start about 5:00 A.M. & so it is dark when I head out. I have gotten my first glimpse of my favorite constellation Orion along with the blue white ball of fire that is Sirius below and to the left. Seeing the return of these favorites is like the return of old friends. I never thought that I'd consider the constellations to a part of my ever shifting celestial neighborhood, but there it is. The night sky is currently clear, and I'm considering a little star gazing

foliage season

There is a new employee at work who grew up in Vermont, but has spent the last several years in Florida. I passed him in the hall the other day, and mentioned how he must be looking forward to foliage season. The gleam in his eye said it all.

There is an anticipation this time of year that is almost akin to Christmas morning as the trees begin to unwrap themselves. It is impossible to know if it's going to be a good year or not until it happens. The first trees to turn are those found in swamps and wet areas. Often they are among the most colorful.

The leaves can be brilliant on a sunny day, but, believe it or not, they are almost more impressive on a cloudy or rainy one. In a good foliage year, the leaves on the trees almost seem to give off their own light.

As you can see, I was out the other day trying to capture the expanding show of color I see all around me. On the one hand, it is frustrating that it seems impossible to recapture the emanations of red, gold, and yellow. On the other hand it seems only right that one has to come and see it to truly experience it.

The recently repatriated Vermonter said that all the forecasts point to an above average foliage season; something to do with all the rain we've had. I am happy for my brother, and his family who will be visiting from Montana in a couple of weeks. I think they will be amazed.