Snow falling like buckets today. Hard to capture with a layperson's digi-camera. But here's the scene. Below, bright sky as it gives over to early sunset.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
First Big Snow
Snow falling like buckets today. Hard to capture with a layperson's digi-camera. But here's the scene. Below, bright sky as it gives over to early sunset.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
I Don't Want an Office
"I am doing what seems to me the simplest--I have done with all that is not simple; I don't want the city any longer, I want the country; I don't want an office, I want to paint."
These words from Van Gogh were meant as a test for Theo, who was considering whether to give up his work as an art dealer and become a painter himself. Vincent gave the above quote as an example of what the painter must feel, must think, in order to commit to the artist's life--the life as he had come to understand it through years of struggle.
Two years now in the country, and I am nearing this sentiment. I don't want an office; I want to write. My second novel is coming along, coming alive. The possibility of life in the country--a full-fledged life in the country--seems less daunting than it did when I first started coming out here. Here is where I work, and where, ironically, I am least lonely.
Today, I split wood for the first time. Learning how to wield an ax without falling over.
But like Vincent, there are concerns, there are worries. Of money, specifically. In this I suppose I am in the same boat as all Americans at this particular moment in history.
On another note, here is an interesting article in today's Sunday Times about a supposed movement called Slow Blogging. A small comfort for those of us who still don't really know what Twitter is.
-letter from Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo
These words from Van Gogh were meant as a test for Theo, who was considering whether to give up his work as an art dealer and become a painter himself. Vincent gave the above quote as an example of what the painter must feel, must think, in order to commit to the artist's life--the life as he had come to understand it through years of struggle.
Two years now in the country, and I am nearing this sentiment. I don't want an office; I want to write. My second novel is coming along, coming alive. The possibility of life in the country--a full-fledged life in the country--seems less daunting than it did when I first started coming out here. Here is where I work, and where, ironically, I am least lonely.
Today, I split wood for the first time. Learning how to wield an ax without falling over.
But like Vincent, there are concerns, there are worries. Of money, specifically. In this I suppose I am in the same boat as all Americans at this particular moment in history.
On another note, here is an interesting article in today's Sunday Times about a supposed movement called Slow Blogging. A small comfort for those of us who still don't really know what Twitter is.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Autumn Into Winter
We're almost at the end of autumn, but this one still hits home. Autumn into winter...
"Autumn Day"
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Lord: it is time. The summer was so immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials,
and let loose the wind in the fields.
Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will not build one anymore.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long time,
will stay up, read, write long letters,
and wander the avenues, up and down,
restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.
"Autumn Day"
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Lord: it is time. The summer was so immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials,
and let loose the wind in the fields.
Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will not build one anymore.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long time,
will stay up, read, write long letters,
and wander the avenues, up and down,
restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
On the Other Side of Nov 4
It's been a while.
Gardening and election season took over, for the most part. (And of course various and sundry personal travails.) We ended the summer with about 3 dozen mason jars-full of canned tomatoes, pickled everything (cucumbers, green tomatoes, green beans), some frozen string beans, and homemade chili oil.
The election brought the city-country contrasts to a head. Our country county has typically gone almost 3 to 1 Republican--this is guns and Bibles country. This year of course it was different. Between my house and the county seat, you'd see yard signs like proclamations, house by house. The Obama-Biden supporters staked out their intentions as an act of courage. In the end, the county went 53% to 44% Republican--a tremendous "win" for the Democrats. And, of course, Obama won PA by 10+ points.
I voted absentee in the Bronx and spent three days, including election day, canvassing in PA. Pax put on his Obama-Biden outfit ( a yard sign fitted to his hunting vest) and was a hit. One day I went out with three local women--white women in their 50's, who started out as Hillary supporters but eventually got on board with Barack. One of them was defying her very Republican husband. I learned that this was a common pattern. "You never know how they'll vote," she said, meaning, wives go with their husbands publicly, but once they're in that voting booth...
It was eye-opening, and a privilege, really, to talk to people face to face about their choices and opinions. People were definitely engaged and paying attention (sometimes too much attention--disinformation definitely seeped in); and I appreciated more than I ever have the distances--cultural, social, political--that many people in this country had to cross in order to ultimately embrace Barack as their candidate.
Anyhoo. Here we are.
Snow flurries this morning in the city. Forgot to drain the pipes in the country. Hoping, hoping I won't go back to a pipe-bursting disaster. Winter is here.
Gardening and election season took over, for the most part. (And of course various and sundry personal travails.) We ended the summer with about 3 dozen mason jars-full of canned tomatoes, pickled everything (cucumbers, green tomatoes, green beans), some frozen string beans, and homemade chili oil.
The election brought the city-country contrasts to a head. Our country county has typically gone almost 3 to 1 Republican--this is guns and Bibles country. This year of course it was different. Between my house and the county seat, you'd see yard signs like proclamations, house by house. The Obama-Biden supporters staked out their intentions as an act of courage. In the end, the county went 53% to 44% Republican--a tremendous "win" for the Democrats. And, of course, Obama won PA by 10+ points.
I voted absentee in the Bronx and spent three days, including election day, canvassing in PA. Pax put on his Obama-Biden outfit ( a yard sign fitted to his hunting vest) and was a hit. One day I went out with three local women--white women in their 50's, who started out as Hillary supporters but eventually got on board with Barack. One of them was defying her very Republican husband. I learned that this was a common pattern. "You never know how they'll vote," she said, meaning, wives go with their husbands publicly, but once they're in that voting booth...
It was eye-opening, and a privilege, really, to talk to people face to face about their choices and opinions. People were definitely engaged and paying attention (sometimes too much attention--disinformation definitely seeped in); and I appreciated more than I ever have the distances--cultural, social, political--that many people in this country had to cross in order to ultimately embrace Barack as their candidate.
Anyhoo. Here we are.
Snow flurries this morning in the city. Forgot to drain the pipes in the country. Hoping, hoping I won't go back to a pipe-bursting disaster. Winter is here.
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