Singing In The Wilderness
"A book of verses, underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread -- and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness --
Ah, wilderness were paradise enow!"
-- Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, as translated by Edward Fitzgerald
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread -- and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness --
Ah, wilderness were paradise enow!"
-- Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, as translated by Edward Fitzgerald
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Armistice Day
The neighborhood was quiet when I stepped outside Sunday
night. I could hear traffic in the
distance, but, after weeks, the constant hum of the harvest had stopped: the
combines were in from the fields and the blowers were resting from drying the
corn.
We ourselves spent the weekend finishing our winter
preparations: organizing the barn, moving hay, filling the bird feeders,
sweeping the patio and porches, running the lawnmower out of gas, draining and
putting away the hoses, putting up driveway markers and the snow gauge, digging
and storing tuberous begonias and dahlias for next year. I harvested the last of the carrots; we
observed that anyone who had time to style a carrot for a photo shoot couldn’t seriously
complain of any real problems in life.
We had time even though the news told us the storm was
coming. The farmers had time to finish
the harvest. The weeks before, the
harvest had been running behind schedule.
Farming is always done in the tension between time and weather: will the
corn mature before the first hard frost?
How long can the corn dry in the field before the first snow? (Afterwards, it can be harvested, but with
losses.) Once this storm was first
forecast, midweek beforehand, the farmers were in the fields twenty-four hours
a day, finishing the harvest.
Monday morning, the snow was less dire than predicted – the
storm shifted 50 miles north of the projected path – but these early “gales of
November” can be brutal. This storm came
on November 10, the anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald. November 11 is the anniversary of the 1940
Armistice Day Blizzard, when the temperature dropped 50 degrees in a few hours
and 145 people died.
We grumble about the lack of precision in the weather
forecast, and about the abrupt end to our autumn. It’s easy to lose sight of how much weather
forecasting has improved, especially within our lifetimes, and how that saves
lives and trouble. Weather satellites
and elaborate computer models let us see, generally, what’s coming, days in advance,
and prepare – the gift of time.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Sunday, March 16, 2014
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