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I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air.”
-Nathaniel Hawthorne
Precious Autumn Sunshine
Amidst Swirling Words & Leaves
Yesterday MEH (My Engineer Husband) and I went “leaf peeping,” which is to say we went out for the sole purpose of looking at the changing fall foliage. In this small and excellent adventure, words became a central part—as they often do for me. Because it’s funny how we use words without thinking (and when I say “we,” let me be clear, it’s the universal “we”). In other words, words and expressions become second nature to our daily life—yet others may have no idea whatsoever what we’re talking about.
Bowdoin College’s Massachusetts Hall |
As we strolled and took photographs, we walked the paths they’d walked. And in addition to the leaves, we peeped the original three buildings that comprised the Bowdoin campus during those long ago years: the chapel, Maine Hall, and Massachusetts Hall (that now houses, appropriately, the English department). While we walked, I thought about words these early writers might have used to describe what we were seeing, and when I got home to my computer, I was delighted to learn that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once wrote a poem about autumn.
AutumnThou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal handOutstretched with benedictions o’er the land,Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspendedSo long beneath the heaven’s o’er-hanging eaves;Thy steps are by the farmer’s prayers attended;Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid,Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves!
This photo reminded me of the descriptions in Longfellow’s poem. |
All this made me realize that whether by distance of time or geography, words can take on different meanings or at times make no sense at all. Yet as writers this is our purpose and daily endeavor: to take words and make them meaningful, to help them take on a life of their own, and to ultimately help others feel the things we felt when we wrote them.
Goose, Goose, Goose, Goose, Crow
(Sunday, November 13, 2011, 7:14 a.m. EST, 44 degrees F)
Our lovely stretch of weather continues! And in addition to the lovely scenery, this video provides a rare opportunity to hear the voice behind wordsxo. Yes, at about 37 seconds into the video, I have a very brief conversation with a passer-by, and you cannot avoid hearing my voice.
“Pepper Pete” in better days. |
Aside from this novelty, primarily geese and ducks dominate this week’s video! Also—more notably to MEH (My Engineer Husband) and me—you will see a crow fly through the video toward the end. We’re big crow fans; you can read about that in the post I wrote about MEH and the crows. And watch for more posts about crows coming up very soon!
This was the birdfeeder yesterday before we squirrel-proofed it. “Mr. Grackles,” as we call all squirrels, could empty this of seeds in a day. This is the view I see out the window over my desk. |
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But don’t worry, Mr. Grackles is still being well fed! |
32 Degrees
SLOW. Bump.
I’m telling you, it was foggy. And I don’t even remember this old car passing me. Ghosty, huh? |
First Signs of Fall on the Coast of Maine
Sunday, September 4, 2011, 8:20 a.m. EST, 70 degrees F
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“Pepper Pete,” as MEH (My Engineer Husband) has nicknamed the potted pepper plants, continues to produce beautiful green and red peppers! |
Fall is in the air. Not only are the leaves changing on some trees, including the ones within camera view, but the days are getting shorter. We hear crickets at night, the birds are flocking and starting to migrate, and school starts on Tuesday. Labor Day weekend is generally regarded as the end of tourist season in Maine, and even though we’ll still get some “outer-staters” coming in, things will start to quiet down and eventually wind down to winter.
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The sadness of “late blight” on the tomatoes: ultimately the whole plant will die, but it’s a race between the blight and first frost at this point! |
What are the season changes bringing to your part of the world, if any? Does fall bring changes to your writing and household routines?