singing my thankful song...eventually

"What better way to celebrate the white man's dominion over Native Americans than slowly parading giant, inflatable children's characters down the street." (In reference to the Macy's Day Parade) ~ Jon Stewart

I find Thanksgiving--this weird holiday that we as United State-ians celebrate each November--to be a time where I bounce between being thankful for the many blessings in my life and then being really disgusted with our culture. Thanksgiving winds up being (for some people) less about getting together for a good meal with their families, instead becoming a day to be hungover the day after the biggest bar night of the year; dread being with family; overeating; and planning the next days shopping binge to get those fabulous 5am deals. I used to partake in all of these things at one point in my life, so I guess I am not throwing the stone at the glass house, but GEEZ don't people find Thanksgiving to be a bizarre holiday? Every couple of years I try and read some history on Thanksgiving's origins, so thought I would share--found some info about Thanksgiving, football and parades online.

• In 1621, the colonists at Plymouth and the Wampanoag Indians shared an autumn harvest feast which is the basis for today's Thanksgiving. According to Kathleen Curtin, Food Historian at Plimoth Plantation, "Although this feast is considered by many to the very first Thanksgiving celebration, it was actually in keeping with a long tradition of celebrating the harvest and giving thanks for a successful bounty of crops. Native American groups throughout the Americas, including the Pueblo, Cherokee, Creek and many others organized harvest festivals, ceremonial dances, and other celebrations of thanks for centuries before the arrival of Europeans in North America...The most detailed description of the "First Thanksgiving" comes from Edward Winslow from A Journal of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, in 1621:
  "Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a special manner rejoice together after we had gathered the fruit of our labors. They four in one day killed as much fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At which time, among other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to the plantation and bestowed upon our governor, and upon the captain, and others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of God, we are so far from want that we often wish you partakers of our plenty."
• Later generations still celebrated days of fasting and prayer leading up to days of thanksgiving which eventually celebrated things like good harvest, victory in battles (govenors declared which day it would be).
• In 1777 the 13 Colonies were decreed to celebrate a day of Thanksgiving in commemoration of a victory over the British in the Battle of Saratoga.
• 1863, Lincoln decrees last Thursday of November will be Thanksgiving (spurred on by Sarah Josefa Hale's letter writing campaign. She believed that a national day of Thanksgiving could unify the country.)
• In 1920s NFL was formed; to boost attendance Detroit Lions started Thanksgiving Game: Chicago Bears vs. Detroit Lions; NBC radio hosted first NFL broadcast; became tradition after that.
• Parades became tradition too, department stores saw this as an opportunity to kick off for shopping season.

All bulleted information came from History.com

I would like to think that the way that we celebrate at the Farm is a little like the first Thanksgiving; tons of people (some of who don't know those sitting around them) sharing a meal and being thankful for the work we do and the community which we share. At the end of the meal members of the community read "blessings," things we are thankful for, which people have written down the week leading up to the meal.

We had about 134 people in attendance at our meal yesterday, and yet it felt intimate. I sat with my cousin Jessi (visiting from NYC), TSO, Amos & CJ, B1&B2, M&N and M&S, Mummy Dearest & Hubby and Big & Lil Fish, JennaBean, KellyBelly, and RugbyGirl; so many dear friends to share the meal with. It was a quiet meal, as the amazing food: turkey, gravy, garlic mashed potatoes, Farm squash with basil, sage stuffing, cranberry sauce, quinoa with walnuts, salad, rolls and butter, Farm applesauce and Farm cider kept us busy; passing dishes around, serving one another. The Farm's Thanksgiving is what I always had in mind for the holiday when I was a child. I love it.

So, this blog, which started out a moody diatribe on our cultures sometimes glutinous appetite for overeating and over spending has left me...well...thankful.

• Thankful for my family.
• Thankful for my friends.
• Thankful for a Community which I love.
• Thankful for a job I love, challenging work and making a difference, albeit small.
• Thankful for the seasons changing, the laughter of children, being taken care of body, soul and spirit.

Life is good. Happy Thanksgiving!

this led to that

Holy cats! 2009 is the year for anniversaries and 40 is the number:

Sesame Street
Monty Python
the Internet
Abbey Road, The Beatles
Woodstock
Walking on the Moon-Apollo 11 on the Moon

This year is also the 40th Anniversary of when the Norman Rockwell Museum opened, and that is a good segue into where I found myself yesterday; hanging out with TSO's family. TSO's Mom, Dad and two sisters A & A were here for the weekend, staying with us at the Farm.

Thanks to the Museum pass program--library shout out!--TSO's family of 5 and I were able to get into the Norman Rockwell Museum for free. I was ambiguous as to whether or not I wanted to go the museum, as I have been many times, but wound up going because TSO forgot the free tickets on the coffee table. As always, I was pleased with the quiet solitude I can find for myself in a museum, and also found the new exhibit to be of some interest ("Behind the Camera," an exhibit documenting Rockwell's use of photography to aid in his art process). I was also reminded of how I always enjoy the rotation of Rockwell's pieces throughout the collection--I feel like I have never seen everything they have to offer.

The rest of the day was nice. We made it to church (though not to one of my liking--I find all the Catholic churches around here to be dismal reminders of what I can only imagine the Pre-Vatican 2 Catholic church was like--since the church TSO and I like is too far away). Dinner from a fabulous pizza place in town was followed by Apples to Apples--which if you've never played I think you are missing out--and then sitting in front of a fire getting sleepy.

It really was a lovely weekend, which only just ended a couple of hours ago after we said goodbye to TSO's family and then hosted a Farm-wide Open House Tea for anyone who felt like stopping by, then a dinner with friends Mummy Dearest, Hubby and Big and Little Fish, M and her two girls M & S and Farmer MacDonald. It was such a fun, albeit busy weekend, which leaves me sighing that last content sigh before what I can only imagine will be a harried week of prepping for the Farm's huge Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving at the Farm is a huge production. We are expecting at least 150 people, truly a day that as a Kitchen is our chance to both showcase what we do and shine; but there is so much work to be done before we get to that bite of Thanksgiving pie and wind down before the rest of the holidays sneak up on us. I am looking forward to a visit of my cousin Jessi from NYC, so I can return the favor and host her. She showed me a slice of NYC and now Thanksgiving will be my chance to serve up a slice of country life and Farm pie.

i heart art

I mentioned Starry Night in my last blog--I saw it at MOMA while I was in NYC! See, I have proof. I also saw all these other glorious pieces of art. This has to be one of the best museums I have ever been to. I heart MOMA!

the starry sky

RugbyGirl, TSO and I got up at 4am this morning to see this. I only saw 5 shooting stars, but there is something so cool and surreal about getting up that early, crawling back into a still warm bed, sleeping for another hour and then going to work. Well, surreal and exhausting.

I love looking at the sky. I also love this Starry Night.

these are my thoughts...not yours

I used to listen to a radio station back home in the Detroit area where one of the DJs always signed off of the news portions of the morning broadcast with, "these are my thoughts, and not yours." In that same vein, I would like to share a few random thoughts today, which read a little like Deep Thoughts with Jack Handy:

• Sarah Palin's book...really? I have friends who are talented writers who will probably never be published, but Sarah Palin manages to get a book out there. Wow. Sometimes I am so amazingly disgusted with our culture.
• I want want want to go see a fun movie, and I think it might be this one. Anyone want to go with me?
• I used to think (and maybe still do a little) that adulthood was marked by a few milestoness, but I feel like in little pieces it is sneaking up on us. A few indicators I am noticing in myself and other friends: not being angry with someone, but rather being dissapointed (I swear that was something that my parents would say and always made me feel worse than someone being mad at me); people who used to joke about work things now taking their jobs and themselves much more seriously--this particularly comes after promotion; gray hairs and wrinkles (I swear when the day I go really gray is the day I get out a brown sharpie and get to work.)
• I still have my circa 1987 Mrs.--though I now refer to her as "Ms."--Potato Head that I let the kids play with when they come over. My old edition came with a yellow purse, green shoes, green (matching the shoes) glasses and body parts; nowadays you can get anything from a Star Wars to a Transformers Potato Head. Who would have ever thought that a toy whose storage compartment resides in its ass would be such a success...?
• A paler Ken...and the Barbie looks just like every other Barbie--disgusting and anatomically incorrectly perfect. I used to pull the heads off my sisters Barbies or put them in a makeshift pool which I made with a huge plastic 70s orange Tupperware bowl of my Moms. The real object of letting Barbie "swim," was to hold her underwater and watch her head drain. Looking back now I realize that there may have been moments where my parents could have thought that I was a serial killer in the making.

I can hear the scissors cutting

Guess I won't be finding that dream library job anytime soon...? From the Patriot Ledger:

Librarians Rally outside State House to protest cuts

By Erik Potter, Enterprise Correspondent

Posted Nov 05, 2009

"Last week, Gov. Deval Patrick cut $277 million from government offices under his control. Nearly $800,000 of that reduction came from the Massachusetts Board of Library Commissioners. The cuts were part of an effort to close a $600 million revenue shortfall during the first three months of the state’s fiscal year.

Patrick is also targeting the library board for cuts next year, asking it and other state departments for a 17 percent cut in funding for the 2011 fiscal year, which begins in July."

For the whole article, click here.

losing history

Our beloved R passed away this morning, just 4 mos. shy of her 100th birthday.

I heard the news from my roomie Rugby Girl and have felt so melancholy since. I am not sad for R. I am glad that she is finally going to be able to rest. I feel a loss for our Community, since she has been part of it for over 80 years, but really my sadness is selfish. It is funny how the death of someone can take us back into the pain and sadness of the death of another. I am always surprised at how my Dad's death (just over 2 year ago) can still invoke such anguish for me. I lay here in front of our fireplace missing my Dad and thinking about all the things we miss out on without him. And I think too of our feisty R and what Community will look like without her. Death is a funny thing.

I turn again to this, a favorite poem, I've used on my blog before. It really speas to something so sincere in my mind.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

~W.H. Auden (1907-1973)

leaving the city that never sleeps

This morning-- spilling into the afternoon--was like a Simon and Garfunkel song; I sat on a train, on this rainy day, and watched as New York City slid away from me. I reentered the outlying cities, looking out over sleepy little cities and towns, traveling over waterways on little bridges made to rock our train back and forth, lulling me to sleep. Everything about leaving the City was unlike how I’d entered it.

This morning we woke up early so we could go have a breakfast in the West Village (Manhattan) where my cousin works. It was one of those wonderful successes; trying out a restaurant that my cousin passes every day en route to work, one which she had often wondered about. The restaurant is Grey Dog and a better breakfast place in town I can’t imagine I’d find. Everything about the restaurant was great, from the décor (random pictures and signs, snowboards—many things featuring dogs); to the tables themselves, which had hand painted maps of various areas around the U.S. on them—ours was of the Napa Valley, CA area; to the food and AMAZING coffee! My breakfast was about $15, but that included a huge portion of eggs and these fabulous homefries, with a side plate absolutely stacked with bacon and two thick slices of their rye bread. Everything was great, and the coffee was strong and flavorful and dark and mysterious without a hint of bitterness (now why can’t I find a man like that?)

After the meal my cousin pointed me in the right direction, back to the Subway with directions on how to get back to Grand Central Station where I would get my Metro North Train. Maybe it was because I was full from breakfast, or maybe it was because I was tired after an entire day spent walking around Manhattan, but I had found a calm and felt at peace with the city. The city was no longer intimidating, and I even fancied that I understood the Subway signs and sprawling lettered and color-lined maps. Maybe that is why NYC is so amazing: because after even just a little time in the City it can really start to grow on you; maybe even make you wish for the ability to reach so many things so quickly. And maybe part of the magic for me is that I can also leave it, but it’s not too far away for those return visits.

adventures in the Big Apple

It is possible to go to New York multiple times and never retrace your steps. I am sure yesterday was that kind of day. I saw only things that I had never looked on before. We began the day at the Morgan Library where we had planned to see the exhibit on Jane Austen, and upon showing up I was pleasantly surprised to see that the Library also had an exhibit on William Blake’s illustrations from a variety of projects--as an English major I was most familiar with his illustrations for the Book of Urizen, Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience. Jessi and I wandered through the galleries, looking at (among many things) some of Jane Austen’s letters to her beloved sister Cassandra. It was quite wonderful to see writing in Austen’s own hand, to see the handwritten letters which referenced some of my most beloved stories; letters which talked about the possibilities that lie open for Austen’s antagonists and heroines. Magical. The exhibit on Blake was nice, less interesting to me, since he is definitely less of a favorite, though I did enjoy looking at his interpretations for the Book of Job.

More Subway travel led us to the Museum of Modern Art (or MOMA to NYers). MOMA is this colossus of a museum that is almost as full of priceless art works as it is of people: both tourists and locals, it seemed. Besides when I was at the Prado in Madrid, I don’t know when I have seen so many amazing and famous pieces of art in one place. The Detroit Institute of Arts (D.I.A.) is ok, but oh, man, the MOMA knocked my socks off! Every floor, every gallery found something that I had seen before only in print, something so recognizable. I was so awestruck that I was able to stand only feet away from Monet’s Water lilies, Van Gogh’s Starry Night, over a dozen Piccaso’s, and the list goes on and on. I would like to go back one day at a less busy time of day (if that even exists there?!), but I enjoyed every minute of our time there and definitely want to go back and see the upcoming exhibit on Tim Burton.

The night wound down with Jessi and I eating dinner at this cool little place called the Burger Joint, which is sneakily tucked into the Park Meridian Hotel somewhere in Manhattan. Finding the Burger Joint is half the fun of eating there, but once we got in and got our food, oh, man! It was so good. Home-cooked cheeseburgers and greasy fries—AMAZING! From there Jessi and I met up for drinks with Farm friends Tizzy and Horseback riding and Tizzy’s brother Adam who was also visiting the Big Apple. Drinks and chatting led to us walking through the amazing Times Square. It just blows my mind to see the huge advertisements on the sides of the buildings; and how bright the square is at night—it is like daytime! And in no time we were saying goodbye on a Subway platform and Jessi and I were heading one way and my friends were heading in the opposite direction. Such is the way of NY, I guess.

New York state of mind

I am sitting in my cousin's apartment in Bushwick, Brooklyn, NYC.

Yesterday after work I got in the car and drove over an hour to catch a Metro North train into NYC. From Wassaic, NY I took a train in, transfering once, to Grand Central Station. As I was pushed forward with the swelling crowds--trying to act like I knew where I was going to catch my next train--I marveled at the beautiful architechture of the builiding and the famous image of the building came into my head; the image of the interior of the building with the light streaming in through the ceiling windows. The trip into the city isn't complete without seeing Grand Central; all its people rushing through going to jobs, homes, lovers; such a gathering up of people only to push them out again into the cool November streets.

Two hours and three trains later (after getting seriously confused) my cousin Jessi and I found each other at the West 4th Street stop, and another couple of trains and we were walking down the street to her apartment. I was surprised at how nice her apartment is, since the area around isn't the greatest, though she is not too far from Williamsburg, which according to Jessi, is becoming the hip, artsy place to be as an influx of young people search for cheap rent.

Chatting with Jessi I realized that it is people like her that were made for moves like hers to this mamoth city. She was able to pick up from MI and move out here: only knowing one or two distant friends, starting school, showing up without a job, thus beginning the next chapter of her life. I must confess, I felt myself very brave leaving MI to move to the Farm the first time. To move 12 hours away from family, onto this Farm, into this community. It all felt daring. Now looking at what Jessi has done I feel like my choices were easier. I don't know that I could ever pick up and move to a big city...but thinking more on that I also realize I couldn't stand a big city for very long. I hate the crowds and I think even the annonymity of it all. And I would be afraid that if I stayed here too long I would lose the beauty of Grand Central Station and looking up into a skyscraper filled sky; seeing the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building and the bridges, yawing over the water and reaching fingers across to the little islands that surround this city. I love coming into this city to see these things and would worry about losing the magic if I looked at these iconic NYC images every day.

Today we go out in search of some of these icons of the city, seeking out famous museums which I have never been to. We are heading out with a list of to-sees to keep us busy, on the agenda as time allows are: Monet's Water Lillies at MOMA, Kandinsky at the Guggenheim, Jane Austen at the Morgan Library and possibly a stop for some allegedly amazing and cheap dumplings along the way. We are also going to try and meet up with Tizzy and her brother (who is visiting from St. Louis). So, off I go into the city scape.

schmoozing 101

I absolutely love the Sedaris family--any family that could produce gems like David and Amy Sedaris!--so I was glad to see that one of the local libraries had a copy of I Like You: hospitality under the influence, by Amy Sedaris. I of course snatched it up and have been enjoying Amy's wonderful party giving advice.

"Possible Guest Combinations to Avoid:

Astrologer and Astronomer

Fraternity Brother and anyone else

Psychologist and Psychiatrist

Movie star and a scene stealer

The newly divorced couple

Director and out-of-work actor

A girl, her boyfriend and his secret girlfriend

Serial killer and a drunken teenager"

We have had lots of parties/gatherings at our house lately and I am more than a little tired of the schmoozing; a realization that I came to the last couple of days. Maybe it's not so much the schmoozing, but rather all the other things that come with being the host: the straightening of the house, the making sure there are snacks, checking with everyone to make sure people are comfortable, the clean up. Really it is my own fault since I say, "I love having people over," and "yes, let's do that here," or "we should all hang out at my house." I do it to myself, plain and simple.

I guess I am wanting something else.

I love having friends over--back home there wasn't a weekend where all of us weren't gathered at someone's house enjoying ourselves--but it becomes work when the people coming over aren't your friends. There is an ease that comes with having friends about one's house: their ability to help themselves; the fact that they know where everything is; their general comfort at entertaining themselves by picking up magazines or books lying around and perusing without need of attention. The kind of friends who don't judge you because you have hokey movies on the shelf, or think you are uncosmpolitan for putting your wine (no matter the color) in the fridge, and who don't care if your house is a mess or you are a mess or your cat is angry.

I started this diatribe about being grumpus about schmoozing and yet it trails down that winding path that really just makes me realize I am homesick for my two MI best friends K and L, and hanging out, and our crowd; those late night Saturdays; those ridiculous conversations; just being together.

Tonight we had the new volunteers over as a welcome (though all 5 have been at the Farm for about a month or more now). The evening felt discombobulated. It also showed me the growing age gap between myself and the new volunteers--was I ever that age? I felt tired and not at all like entertaining and am now looking forward to tomorrow nights Poker game with friends as a reminder that I don't have to schmooze again for a while. *Sigh.*

a certain number of leaves

I SAW IN LOUISIANA A LIVE-OAK GROWING

SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing,

All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the branches;

Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous leaves of dark green,

And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself;

But I wonder'd how it could utter joyous leaves, standing alone there, without its friend, its lover near--for I knew I could not;

And broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it, and twined around it a little moss,

And brought it away--and I have placed it in sight in my room;

It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends,

(For I believe lately I think of little else than them:)

Yet it remains to me a curious token--it makes me think of manly love;

For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana, solitary, in a wide flat space,

Uttering joyous leaves all its life, without a friend, a lover, near,

I know very well I could not.

~ Walt Whitman

reversion

Every time I go to Small Town Library I check out something, even though I might already have so many books of my own that I am reading and so many library books I've already checked out. I can't control myself. Maybe I need to go to an over-checker-outers group or something...hmmm...

That said, S and I just went to the library tonight and I got two more books:

• The Second Child, Deborah Garrison
• Called out of Darkness, Anne Rice

I was a big Vampire Chronicles lover when I was a kid and though I eventually grew out of Rice's paranormal genre I always have had a fondness for her probably due to the connection I felt for her vampires when I myself was a questioning teenager, searching in some way as the Vampire Louie. I remember some years not too long ago reading about Rice's return to Catholicism and have been curious about that and also her new trilogy about Jesus Christ--meaning to read them eventually--and was intrigued tonight seeing her autobiography on the shelf. Doing a little reading to prep myself for the book, found this quote and liked it, so will share it here, "Anne Rice is not a convert but a revert." ("In Defense of Anne Rice," Patricia Snow). Here's to hoping that reading her autobiography might revert me back into a Rice reader and maybe I will soon pick up one of her newer books.

a couple of corrections

First: I was driving into town today after work to do a few errands and was looking out over the glorious mountains around the Farm--which people out here call "hills," in this quaint, knowing voice. I know there are bigger mountains, but geez, compared to the views from my window in Michigan, I am looking at Mt. Kilimanjaro.--And back from the tangent, anyway, I was looking out at the ever changing fall colors which I wrote of a couple of days ago, and was realizing that I forgot to mention the majesty of all of the pine trees intermingled amongst the fading shades of yellows and oranges. These trees add something majestic and glorious; a perpetual infusion of color all winter long, though at times the dusting of snow on the pines makes you temporarily forget that everything isn't white.

Second: I forgot to mention in my last post that I was the Hamburglar for Halloween this year. I was pretty proud of my costume and more than a little dissapointed that I didn't get to go to any parties wearing my costume, (since my bday party was pirate themed). I found a prison (black and white striped) costume at Kmart half-priced; found a red and black hat at a clothing swap; painted the mask on my face; and had TSO make a big, red tie which Rugby Girl made even cooler by decorating with little burgers (which she drew, cut out and then pinned to my tie.)

And lastly: I noticed that I haven't changed any of the "books I am reading," on my blog (on the right) in a while. That is because I am still slowly plodding through all of these books, having temporarily set them down for the slew of magazines, books on CD and books which I have checked out from the Library. Some fun things which I have read/am reading recently:

• Emily Post, Daughter of the Gilded Age, Mistress of American Manners, L. Claridge
• Slug Bread and Beheaded Thistles: Amusing & Useful Techniques for Nontoxic Housekeeping and Gardening, E. Sandbeck
• Annie Leibovitz at Work, Annie Leibovitz
• as well as a slew of magazines including: "New Yorker," and "American Heritage."

I have been trying to get into the routine of going to our small town library on Monday nights when it is open (the hours being 7pm-9pm--that still boggles my damn mind!) Being in a Library has such a calming effect on me; to be in a place so familiar. As we were leaving, I was commenting to my friend S that, "there is something strangely reassuring about living in a town where the most happening place during the week is the town Library."

Also, went to my favorite city library, not too far from the Farm tonight. Being there made me yearn for library work again and reminded me that I need to send out some resumes. I want to stay working and living at the Farm, but am still looking for very part-time or subbing hours...can't I have my cake and eat it too?

And finally, I wanted to welcome Rhett, a new follower to my blog. Rhett is a former co-worker and friend, and calls me a "Mass-hole," now that I live in MA. Glad someone calls me that--I find it very entertaining. Welcome Rhett!

twittering through autumn

"Vermont, Early November"

It was in between seasons,
after the thin twitter of late autumn
but before the icy authority of winter,

and I took in the scene from a porch,
a tableau of silo and weathervane
and a crowd of ferns on the edge of the woods--

nothing worth writing about really,
but it is too late to stop now
that the ferns and silo have been mentioned.

I drank my warm coffee
and took note of the disused tractor
and the lopsided sign to the cheese factory.

Not one of those mornings
that makes you want to seize the day,
not even enough glory to make you want

to grasp every other day
yet after staring for a while
at the plowed-under fields and the sky,

I turned back to the order of the kitchen
determined to seize firmly
the second Wednesday of every month that lay ahead.

~ Billy Collins

And so we begin another fall month and watch as the leaves on our beloved New England trees move to the next stage of their journey; the first stages of leaves fall gracefully and now what is left on the trees seem to drop, having been pulled and tugged by winds and rains and chilled by cold mornings. This fall was not as brilliant as autumn's past, in that the colors lacked the brilliant reds and showcased instead muted oranges and yellows; and yet somehow these colors are as dear and brilliant to me. It is hard to explain what the mind can't quite fathom; the desire to cast my eyes out onto this sea of trees, peppered to look like a spice rack for the eyes: hues of saffron, cumin, tumeric, ginger, mustard seed. The trees sway in their mystical dance and are a mystery to me in much the same way those spices are.

It is good that I was born in the fall--the dying season. I am a person who needs to be reminded of my birth and journey through life at this time of year; to batten down my proverbial hatches and struggle through the winter so that I can be reminded of the beauty that comes after the seemingly dead of wintertime.

This fall has found us very busy at the Farm with Board Meetings, a change in management, and many little diversions in the past month. Both TSO and I celebrated birthdays within just over a week of each other, which meant two parties within just over a week and a half. I was very happy to have people in our house, filling it and reminding me that these people, my coworkers are my family. We work and live in such an amazing place.

Halloween at the Farm is a unique experience too. Many guests, staff and their kids come to dinner dressed in costumes and then trick or treat at houses around the Farm. This was my first year with our own house, so it was fun to just sit and watch as people came to our door. Maybe not going out trick or treating around the Farm as I've done in years past marks another creeping step towards adulthood, especially as I am a year older now...nah... not yet.