Misadventures of the Monster Librarian

"October" O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes’ sake, if they were all, Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost— For the grapes’ sake along the wall. --Robert Frost I know I've shared this poem here before, but it's one of my favorite poems and I love to reread it every year, multiple time a year....

Fall is happening all around us and I feel so grateful that I've seen so much of it's glory this year; the colors over our campsite when the leaves were first bursting, and then last weekend as cover and forest bedding for us as we hiked lovely Hocking Hills! Last weekend I went home and to the town of Fenton, MI, where I grew up and was greeted by downtown Fenton in full autumn regalia. Beautiful beautiful! With fall on the brain I've been seeking out more poems that celebrate this favorite season of mine! Here's a gem:   "Autumn Fires" In the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers, The red fire blazes, The grey smoke towers. Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the summer, Fires in the fall! --Robert Louis Stevenson

After yesterdays grumpiness I must redeem myself with something beautiful...   "Approach of Winter" The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go or driven like hail stream bitterly out to one side and fall where the salvias, hard carmine-- like no leaf that ever was-- edge the bare garden. -- William Carlos Williams

Though I think for the first time, in all the time since discovering the Farm (over 10 years ago), I don't want to go back, but rather forward, I still miss it terribly at this time of year; miss it in that awful yearning way, the same way I miss my parents home of my childhood, now someone else's. I miss it in the spring too. The Farm in its seasonal vestments harkens me back like family, calling me back at it's dying time and for it's birthing season too. I spoke with TSO yesterday and nearly wept at his voice, so homesick for the place and for my other friends there too, and for times gone; the uniqueness of the place. I am looking for the Farm in our autumn here, and though not finding it entirely, am contenting myself in the brilliance of the crisp colors, the blustery days, the painfully beautiful sunrises, and the most splendid and silvery moons. See that wisp of a  moon? "My November Guest" My ...

Living in corn country has its advantages, namely...corn. This fall has made me homesick for beautiful New England at this time of year, and the part of Michigan where I grew up--both areas rife with beautiful foliage: fierce oranges and reds, sharp yellows; colors as crisp as the fall smell in the air. I went for a walk this past week and though these are not the most beautiful fall leaves I've ever seen, I was just glad to find some colors! I took solace in the cool evening, in the rain, and in the running into a friend and being invited in for conversation. I went home decidely less homesick. As you read this, I will still probably be in South Carolina on the ocean with my dear friends; sleeping near the ocean in a tent, enjoying weather so unlike what's happening in the Midwest...it will be hard to leave later today.  I'll bring some sand back for you...

Yesteryday morning I had a 9a.m. meeting with the other library directors in the county; somehow I managed to walk out the door REALLY early, coffee in hand, and caught the most amazing remnants of sunrise: gentle pinks and blushy oranges, a warm yellow sun thawing the frost that covered the fields and grass. In short, everything was gorgeous. I said a silent "thanks," to God, snapped a couple of photos and was on my way. That beautiful sunrise is still in my mind as I get ready for bed, and I am laying here thinking gratefully about this first fall in my new farmy, flat Midwestern town... Happy weekend!

"The Snow Storm" Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end. The sled and traveler stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit In a tumultuous privacy of storm. Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed Come see the north wind's masonry. Out of an unseen quarry evermore Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer Curves his white bastions with projected roof Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he For number or proportion. Mockingly, On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, Maugre the farmer's sighs; and, at the gate, A tapering turret overtops the work. And when hi...

Today when I walked home I was confronted by the sight of the little slice of woods near my house mauled; I knew that the Farm was to do some work with the septic system--putting some new piping in down our road--but still felt really surprised to see to see the bushes torn up and piled. It felt funny to mourn for this little slice of nature for a moment, but I did; I guess I was really just mourning the fall, and the quickening pace of the oncoming sleepy season. I wanted to sit on the ground and grab fistfuls of dirt and dead leaves, somehow cling to the earth and will it to stay this way for just a little longer; will the fluffy-tailed, apple carrying squirrels to play in the sun and not fear the steady cooling; will these last few cold and beautiful pink October mornings into staying forever. Stumbled upon this poem, which just felt right. "Outskirts" Men in overalls the same color as earth rise from a ditch. It's a transitional place, in stalemate, neither count...

See these gorgeous, harmless looking waterfalls? Yes, they are gorgeous and they are generally harmless in the SUMMER, when a dip in these is refreshing, but in October?! Wow. I took Yannick the German and Ginger (two of the Farm's volunteers) to these waterfalls a few weeks back. It was a cold afternoon, and by the time we dared each other enough to get in and actually did it it began to rain. It was cold, but invigorating. We didn't stay in long, but we did it. For some reason, doing this again, two weeks later seemed like a good idea, and a way to introduce (initiate?) a couple more of the volunteers, so this time Yannick the German and I took Magdalena and Rachel with us. It was cold a few weeks ago, so you can imagine what it was like the second time around! Even colder! But we did it, everyone forced themselves back against the pounding waterfall; climbed down big rocks and across rough pebbles to submerge in the wading pool at the bottom of the falls. I have dubbed th...

Some of the fall foliage. One of my favorite trees during the fall (at the Farm). These pictures were taken just over a week ago and already the horizon boasts a more muted palette. The more vivid colors of fall have shed themselves and each days finds a view that is more muted,  subdued grays and browns replacing the fire of falls' brightest blaze. The tree pictured above is already nearly bald, leaves underneath curling, arthritic fingers who've now longer a purpose. I won't lie. I still love the fall, even after the finest and brightest colors have been spent. I love the brilliant and cold sunsets; love the deep dark, almost purple nights; love the smell of wood stoves warming houses, piles of leaves in yards cleared away by rakes and maintained fires; love the jeans and sweater weather.

"In Blackwater Woods" Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond, no matter what its name is, is nameless now. Every year everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this: the fires and the black river of loss whose other side is salvation, whose meaning none of us will ever know. To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go. - Mary Oliver

I love my morning walk up the hill to the Kitchen, the moments which belong to only me. We've replaced sweating in the Kitchen's heat with sweaters in the morning. The summer is ending. All the signs are there and obvious, if you're watching for them as eagerly as I am. First the trees, the weaker ones are already dropping off their leaves, or losing some to all of the rain. A blush of color has appeared in the mountains, so slight that I wondered that it hadn't been there all summer. Next the garden with this seasons' delayed tomatoes now fat and ripe and pungent and delicious in everything. A fridge stocked with purple peppers, cucumbers, the last of the deliciously sweet carrots, summer squash and zucchini, basil, broccoli boxes taking over everything, cauliflower, kale, chard, scallions, shallots, eggplants upon eggplants upon eggplants until I can't think of eating more eggplant parmesan! Falls' squashes are fattening themselves daily; delicata'...

I love the fall. And I love the way our old Farm house seems to change in the fall. With the cooler weather comes wonderful things like sweaters and sweatshirts; a huge stack of wood on our back porch, meaning more fires at our house; raked up piles of leaves and the smell of burning dead foliage; the look of the mountains around, as they've shed their spring/summer skins for the sleepy looking, muted hues of grays and musty browns. I love the northeast winds that blow at the house and rattle it a little in the night's darkest moments, occasionally stirring me from sleep, reassuring me that I am safe and warm inside. I even like Daylight Savings, which seems to layer upon us all a sense of tiredness. Tiredness because it is darker earlier; tiredness because it is getting cooler outside; tiredness from the work I see in the Kitchen's near future when we will produce a huge, spectacular meal. The Thanksgiving count for the Farm, as of 11am this morning, was 95 peopl...

I realized that I haven't written much of Farm life lately, so: Well, Kitchen life is far less exciting these days due to our lessening fresh Farm produce. I feel like lately I haven't the energy or patience to step outside my cooking box with our routine fall bounty. From the Farm gardens we are getting: kale (dino and curly), chard (Swiss), cabbage, parsnips, turnips, leeks and this week we still had some broccoli. We are now breaking into freezer stores to utilize some things which the garden processed and froze this summer, and are also using store bought produce more and more (insert HUGE sad face here).  Nothing tastes as good as fresh AND recently (like that morning!!) picked produce. Much to our delight we had a few calves born in the last couple of weeks, taking us to a grand total of 5 heifer (girl) calves, which is exactly what we wanted. Hooray! After Jasmine (you may remember her from here ) calved we lost her to milk fever . (Will have to post pictures of the...

"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 leaves fell gracefully and now wh...

It felt a little deja vu-ish to be heading back to Pennsylvania this time of year; fall ripening around us, giving off those fragrant crunchy-leafed and leaves burning smells; since about this time last year I was heading to the very little town I found myself heading to this weekend. Last October TSO was moving home from WA, in time for B1 & B2's wedding--in a little, wonderful town in PA--CJ was still at the Farm, Amos was finishing college and I was a Librarian. How things change in the course of a year. This weekend found me heading to PA to see a former Farmer, Valley Girl, who has since moved back home and works in the mental health field there. I was graciously invited by B2's wonderful parents, Mama and Papa Bear, to stay with them for the weekend. I accepted. I arrived late Thursday night and enjoyed pie and a long chat with Mama and Papa Bear, catching them up on the Farm happenings, etc. Friday was spent in nearby Lancaster with Valley Girl. It was an aftern...