Branches are November-bare or severely tattered, unless they belong to an evergreen. We're wondering if any kind of animal might consume the great quantity of oak leaves that are covering, for the third time this autumn, the grounds and the driveway. One of the few on-going frustrations of country-living is leaf management and disposal, especially when it looked as if winter would arrive early this year, so we converted the tractor attachments to snow removal -- no more mower deck for mulching; no trailer hitch for hauling tarps full of leaves, but a back blade for plowing heavy, wet slush. We fear a reversion now might induce Mother Nature to teach us not to second guess her and we'd soon end up with snow up to our armpits.
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| November's deciduous branches are mostly bare
Photo by J. Harrington
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Thinking about snow reminds us that, later this month, after Thanksgiving, it will be time to dig out the Christmas decorations. The Better Half informs us she's been looking through the pines along the driveway, deciding which will be transformed into our indoor tree to be decorated this year. She was the one who proposed, several years ago, that we harvest one of our own trees for Christmas. We've been doing it since and it helps create a sense of belonging to the land, even if a Fraser pine is more aromatic.
Earlier today we watched and listened to a video from Ireland's public service broadcaster of President-elect Joe Biden reciting one of Seamus Heaney's poems, The Cure at Troy. It's been too long since we've been able to enjoy a President who is familiar with the humanities and the classics. At the moment, we're flashing back to the Kennedys, but we may be overlooking some Obama moments. Let's hope that, for the next several months, dealing with the constraints needed to limit the impact of COVID-19, including adjusting our traditional holiday gatherings, will be our major concern, and that the transition to a capable federal administration goes smoothly. Then, perhaps we'll get a belated Christmas present and both (each?) runoff race in Georgia will send a Democrat to the Senate for US. That's the kind of American exceptionalism we could use these days to help us return to the greatness of our ideals and the commitment to honor them.
Anything can happen. You know how Jupiter
Will mostly wait for clouds to gather head
Before he hurls the lightning? Well, just now
He galloped his thunder cart and his horses
Across a clear blue sky. It shook the earth
And the clogged underearth, the River Styx,
The winding streams, the Atlantic shore itself.
Anything can happen, the tallest towers
Be overturned, those in high places daunted,
Those overlooked regarded. Stropped-beak Fortune
Swoops, making the air gasp, tearing the crest off one,
Setting it down bleeding on the next.
Ground gives. The heaven’s weight
Lifts up off Atlas like a kettle-lid.
Capstones shift, nothing resettles right.
Telluric ash and fire-spores boil away.
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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
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