A circle game?

Much of the local field corn is now harvested. Many of the local trees are bare of leaves, except for the oaks which  will be shedding leaves until bud burst next Spring starts a new cycle. I hope to finish raking, hauling and mulching this coming week, maybe even by mid-week Veterans' Day on the 11th.

are we at the dawn of a new era?

Photo by J. Harrington

Election Day brought most of the results I hoped for. Now we need leadership that believes accountability involves more than strongly worded letters and private meetings with oligarchs and wannabes. Do you think the Alaska and Mississippi senatorial elections will be resolved before the 2028 presidential elections? Wouldn't it be wonderful if we had more elected folks (and political parties) who put governance ahead of politics?

Once upon a time, before Citizens United, and maybe even pre- pre-C.U., I used to be able to feel comfortable voting for a candidate and letting it go at that. My mail box and email inbox weren't daily filling with requests (demands) that I contact my members of Congress to get them to vote for or against various bills. The concept of representative democracy has been severely complicated by the question of who (not what) is to be represented. Corporations are legal persons. I'm surprised that the Supreme Court that determined money is analogous to speech didn't also decide to award non-natural legal persons a right to vote! This should get really interesting as real persons and voters begin pushing harder for Green Amendments establishing the Rights of Nature. I believe we are now living in one of those "interesting times" that have been referred to as a curse.

Meanwhile, it's finally stopped raining. Temperatures are running slightly above seasonal "normals." The upcoming week brings a holiday and we're in the first weekend of local deer hunting season with firearms. We experiennced the first hard frost of the season this past Friday and there's no sign yet of the northern waterfowl migration. If I were younger and still an active waterfowler, I suspect I'd be mightily agitated and disappointed. Climate channge strikes again?

For Calling The Spirit Back From Wandering The Earth In Its Human Feet

by Joy Harjo

Put down that bag of potato chips, that white bread, that

bottle of pop.

Turn off that cellphone, computer, and remote control.

Open the door, then close it behind you.

Take a breath offered by friendly winds. They travel

the earth gathering essences of plants to clean.

Give back with gratitude.

If you sing it will give your spirit lift to fly to the stars’ ears and

back.

Acknowledge this earth who has cared for you since you were

a dream planting itself precisely within your parents’ desire.

Let your moccasin feet take you to the encampment of the

guardians who have known you before time,

who will be there after time.

They sit before the fire that has been there without time.

Let the earth stabilize your postcolonial insecure jitters.

Be respectful of the small insects, birds and animal people

who accompany you.

Ask their forgiveness for the harm we humans have brought

down upon them.

Don’t worry.

The heart knows the way though there may be high-rises,

interstates, checkpoints, armed soldiers, massacres, wars, and

those who will despise you because they despise themselves.

The journey might take you a few hours, a day, a year, a few

years, a hundred, a thousand or even more.

Watch your mind. Without training it might run away and

leave your heart for the immense human feast set by the

thieves of time.

Do not hold regrets.

When you find your way to the circle, to the fire kept burning

by the keepers of your soul, you will be welcomed.

You must clean yourself with cedar, sage, or other healing plant.

Cut the ties you have to failure and shame.

Let go the pain you are holding in your mind, your shoulders, your heart, all the way to your feet. Let go the pain of your ancestors to make way for those who are heading in our direction.

Ask for forgiveness.

Call upon the help of those who love you. These helpers take many forms: animal, element, bird, angel, saint, stone, or ancestor.

Call yourself back. You will find yourself caught in corners and creases of shame, judgment, and human abuse.

You must call in a way that your spirit will want to return.

Speak to it as you would to a beloved child.

Welcome your spirit back from its wandering. It will return

in pieces, in tatters. Gather them together. They will be

happy to be found after being lost for so long.

Your spirit will need to sleep awhile after it is bathed and

given clean clothes.

Now you can have a party. Invite everyone you know who

loves and supports you. Keep room for those who have no

place else to go.

Make a giveaway, and remember, keep the speeches short.

Then, you must do this: help the next person find their way through the dark.

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It's November, be thankful

'Tis a weekend of Halloween and Samhain. Whether you consider it a trick or a treat, don't forget to turn your clocks back to standard time. With luck, skill, organization and numbers, on November 4 we'll also start to turn history back toward something more approaching standard. Speaking of history, November is National Native American Heritage Month.

no signs yet of the northern migration

Photo by J. Harrington

As of moments ago, the Minnesota Vikings undefeated streak ended with a loss to the Detroit Lions. Almost all Minnesota sports fans have become accustomed to treats and tricks and heartbreaks. 'nuff said.

In honor of Native American Heritage Month, the Better Half and I stopped by Birchbark books this afternoon. I followed in Oscar Wilde's footsteps ("I can resist everything except temptation.") and came away with three titles:

• WE ~ Layli Long Soldier 

• Kincentricity - Connecting to Nature with American Indian Food Traditions, ~  Enrique Salmon, and 

•  Living Resistance ~ Kaitlin Curtice

Even with a super El Niño this winter, I'm going to spend time inside, reading, drinking coffee with my feet up, and doing what I can to enjoy life. My current strategy is to eat more healthy and think more healthy to feel more healthy. I'm beginning to take quite seriously Dana Meadows observations in Dancing with Systems:

"People who are raised in the industrial world and who get enthused about systems thinking are likely to make a terrible mistake. They are likely to assume that here, in systems analysis, in interconnection and complication, in the power of the computer, here at last, is the key to prediction and control. This mistake is likely because the mindset of the industrial world assumes that there is a key to prediction and control."

Her identification of the type of terrible mistake, it seems to me, is even more applicable to those who would sell us Artificial Intelligence instead of offering us wisdom. That mistake is compounded by the buyers of AI systems. As Meadows further notes: "But self-organizing, nonlinear feedback systems are inherently unpredictable. They are not controllable. They are understandable only in the most general way. The goal of foreseeing the future exactly and preparing for it perfectly is unrealizable. The idea of making a complex system do just what you want it to do can be achieved only temporarily, at best...."

From much of the reading I've done in the last couple of decades, Native Americans in many?, most?, all? of their world views seem to have a much more realistic understanding of the natural systems on which we depend for the basics of life. We should, I believe, pay lots more attention to their perspectives.

Kaitlin Curtice

From Glory Happening 

God,
If there is some mysterious order of things that holds the world together,
we don’t really know about it.
What we know is what we see and feel and touch, what we partake of with the senses.
We know how to feed each other,
to take in beauty,
we share moments with created things,
to remember that we are tethered to each other
for a greater and deeper good,
for a true and lasting holiness.
This seems to be Kin-dom where Kin-dom can be understood in tiny bits and pieces,
tiny things that keep us longing for more of you.
Iw, amen.1

1. Poems have been edited since their original publication.

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Once burned, twice shy?

Local soy bean fields are (all?) harvested. Field corn harvest is underway. Autumn colors have emerged on just about all of the oak leaves in the neighborhood. Samhain / Halloween arrives in a week, although temperatures the past few days have been reaching the low to mid 70s, 15 to 20℉ above average for this time of year. I'm not used to breaking into a sweat while cleaning up leaf fall.

local field corn harvest

Photo by J. Harrington

Not that I've paid close attention, but political ads seem way too abundant and more full of tricks than treats. Wouldn't it be nice to live somewhere, some time, in which politicians told us lots more about why they deserve our votes rather than why their opponent(s) don't? Are politics really supposed to be a zero sum game? Why not focus on how to attain what's best for the country and its people? How can we get more politicians trained in multi-solving instead of mudslinging?

The Better Half [BH] and I spent a some time Saturday afternoon at a Halloween party hosted at the stables where Daughter Person boards her horse and BH, Daughter, and Granddaughter go riding. There were noticeably more young ’uns than us oldsters, as it should be around Halloween and some other holidays. Everyone seemed to have a good time and the horses enjoyed the extra company, but 73℉ just didn’t feel right for a Minnesota Halloween party. Today we're back to cloudy skies and seasonable temperatures. We may not see another 70℉ until next Spring.

Much of next week will be devoted to managing fallen leaves and trying to get organized for Winter and whatever the election results may bring. Heather Cox Richardson's Letters from an American today reminds US that, about 100 years ago, we went through a similar con job of "let's run the country like a business." It's unfortunate to tragic that our social and cultural memories don't serve US better. Maybe this time when I put my hand on a hot stove it won't badly burn me? Don't forget to VOTE!

October

Evalyn Callahan Shaw

October is the month that seems 
All woven with midsummer dreams;  
She brings for us the golden days 
That fill the air with smoky haze,  
She brings for us the lisping breeze 
And wakes the gossips in the trees,  
Who whisper near the vacant nest  
Forsaken by its feathered guest.  
Now half the birds forget to sing,  
And half of them have taken wing,  
Before their pathway shall be lost 
Beneath the gossamer of frost.  
Zigzag across the yellow sky,  
They rustle here and flutter there,  
Until the boughs hang chill and bare,  
What joy for us—what happiness  
Shall cheer the day the night shall bless?  
’Tis hallowe’en, the very last  
Shall keep for us remembrance fast,  
When every child shall duck the head 
To find the precious pippin red. 

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Season for keeping promises

I voted on Friday, October 16; participated in the local No Kings - Vote Early rally on Saturday; and today reached the limit of letting MAGAts and their Kommandant live in my head, rent free or not. I'm working on minimizing social media and news reading time henceforth. If civil war breaks out on or shortly after November 3, I'll probably get a call or an email. Could it be coincidence, and what kind, that Election Day next month occurs immediately after the Day of the Dead? Meanwhile, I want to do as little as possible to aid and abet any support of tech oligarchs and their autocrat associates.

what do you need to be ready to vote?

Photo by J. Harrington

We're at peak leaf color but the winds of the past few days have prompted peak leaf fall. Mid-week temperatures are forecast to return into the low 70s. Normal highs for this time of year are in the mid 50s, although "normal" seems on its way to being pronounced archaic. Meanwhile we all get to ponder what a super El Niño may ring to the middle of the country over the next several months. Do these tense, pensive, times warrant the creation of a new term: tensive?

On the brighter side, convincing myself that cleaning up fallen leaves and pulling past bloom golden rod is earth care and not just middle class yard work has helped me enjoy time spent outside this past week. (One aspiration I've never aspired to is having a perfect lawn.) Meanwhile, the local wild turkey flocks and gray squirrel population are making progress cleaning up the fallen acorns. With luck, we'll get early holiday presents as the votes are tallied, the goblins and trolls will soon leave the country and we'll all have lots to be thankful for come November 26.

Let America Be America Again

By Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.

Let it be the dream it used to be.

Let it be the pioneer on the plain

Seeking a home where he himself is free.

 

(America never was America to me.)

 

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—

Let it be that great strong land of love

Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme

That any man be crushed by one above.

 

(It never was America to me.)

 

O, let my land be a land where Liberty

Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,

But opportunity is real, and life is free,

Equality is in the air we breathe.

 

(There's never been equality for me,

Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

 

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?

And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

 

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,

I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.

I am the red man driven from the land,

I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—

And finding only the same old stupid plan

Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

 

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,

Tangled in that ancient endless chain

Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!

Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!

Of work the men! Of take the pay!

Of owning everything for one's own greed!

 

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.

I am the worker sold to the machine.

I am the Negro, servant to you all.

I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—

Hungry yet today despite the dream.

Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!

I am the man who never got ahead,

The poorest worker bartered through the years.

 

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream

In the Old World while still a serf of kings,

Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,

That even yet its mighty daring sings

In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned

That's made America the land it has become.

O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas

In search of what I meant to be my home—

For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,

And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,

And torn from Black Africa's strand I came

To build a "homeland of the free."

 

The free?

 

Who said the free?  Not me?

Surely not me?  The millions on relief today?

The millions shot down when we strike?

The millions who have nothing for our pay?

For all the dreams we've dreamed

And all the songs we've sung

And all the hopes we've held

And all the flags we've hung,

The millions who have nothing for our pay—

Except the dream that's almost dead today.

 

O, let America be America again—

The land that never has been yet—

And yet must be—the land where every man is free.

The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME—

Who made America,

Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,

Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,

Must bring back our mighty dream again.

 

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—

The steel of freedom does not stain.

From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,

We must take back our land again,

America!

 

O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath—

America will be!

 

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,

The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,

We, the people, must redeem

The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.

The mountains and the endless plain—

All, all the stretch of these great green states—

And make America again!

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On seasonal success[ion]

Tomorrow is Indigenous Peoples Day. Depending on where you are, it may, or may not, be celebrated as such. I don't think there's mail delivery tomorrow, but don't take my word for it, check here. Personally, I'm looking forward to a notable drop in temperatures, since yesterday and today we've been experiencing highs in the mid-80's. Tomorrow is forecast to be about 15℉ cooler, but with scattered thunderstorms. The latter means I may, or may not, try to catch up on leaf picking-upping.

local maple trees, mid-October color

Photo by J. Harrington

Yesterday, to honor Banned Books Week, I renewed my library card and borrowing privileges at two nearby libraries, each a member of a different system. One of them had available a copy of a book I've been wanting to read for several weeks, Living Resistance, by Kaitlin B. Curtice. I'd recently finished enjoying reading Everything Is a Story by the same author and had been putting off buying a copy due to my continuing stacks of unread books. Based on reading the first few chapters of Living, I suspect it will go on my Christmas list for a reread this winter.

Things are busying up as we head toward the holiday season. Next week we pay the second half of this year's property taxes early in the week and head back to the same county building late in the week to VOTE EARLY, before we join a NO KINGS DAY protest next Saturday, the 17th. Then it's on to Samhain/Halloween; Native American Heritage month in November, Thanksgiving and come December, some family birthdays and Christmas. Amidst the frivolity, we need to sign up for and complete a half day safe driver refresher course for our auto insurance discount.

I don't know how you're viewing the state of the world these days, but I've developed some real questions about the path(s) we're on. Do we really need more data centers? Is Artificial Intelligence a real net benefit? Why haven't we accomplished more to meet climate change adaptation and reduction goals? Should we be satisfied that "Nearly half of adults, 47%, read below a 6th-grade level." 

Kaitlin B. Curtice has an online journal. When I subscribed, I got a link to a pdf of several of her poems, from which I've borrowed the one below. As a society and/or culture, it seems to me that we aren't doing all that well with the way we've approached "success" in our country (and elsewhere). Here's a healthier perspective, I believe.

Success.
They tell us how it’s supposed to be—
success is earned,
learned,
fought for,
worth dying for,
success is a thing that you’ll
climb every mountain
to achieve.
But I think there’s a gentler way.
What if success, for you, for me,
is simply learning to be—
to be with ourselves,
to be with the quiet,
to be with Earth, our Mother,
to be when the noise is loud,
to be when the hustle is demanding,
to be when we “should” be going.
Success isn’t a thing to earn or achieve
but a letting go
so that we get to the right stuff,
the good stuff,
the stuff of magic and love
in the end.
Success to them is an unattainable dream. Success for us, right now, is this moment’s breath and every little sliver of sacredness that follows.

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Banning books: a snow job?

Leaf color is increasing in patches and splotches. (I should spend more time just sitting and watching the leaves change color.) Conifer needles started dropping all over the driveway a few days ago. Most of this years goldenrods have been pulled from in front of the lilac bushes. Autumn is settling in for her seasonal visit.

October 14 snow

Photo by J. Harrington

As far as I can tell, we've not yet had our first local frost, although we have had several advisories. Some years we get our first touch of snow by mid-month. With a super El Nińo pending, I expect we won't see a repeat of the Halloween blizzard of 1991, but I've also learned to Never Say Never.

I'm planning on voting around the end of next week or early the following, depending, in part, on whether Saturday voting is a local option. Plus, the local chapter of Indivisible is holding a NO KINGS- VOTE EARLY rally on Saturday, October 17. I hope and plan to be in attendance, weather and health permitting. (Flu season has started, right?)

Today is the beginning of Banned Books Week. That means it's time for a trip to our friendly, local, independent book store, while wearing my ACLU banned books club sweatshirt. I'm down to no more than a couple of dozen new, unread books stacked on the book cases, so I can at least look for additions before Christmas arrives.

Snow in October

Alice Dunbar-Nelson
1875 – 1935

Today I saw a thing of arresting poignant beauty:

A strong young tree, brave in its Autumn finery

Of scarlet and burnt umber and flame yellow,

Bending beneath a weight of early snow,

Which sheathed the north side of its slender trunk,

And spread a heavy white chilly afghan

Over its crested leaves.

Yet they thrust through, defiant, glowing,

Claiming the right to live another fortnight,

Clamoring that Indian Summer had not come,

Crying “Cheat! Cheat!” because Winter had stretched

Long chill fingers into brown, streaming hair

Of fleeing October.

The film of snow shrouded the proud redness of the tree,

As premature grief grays the strong head

Of a virile, red-haired man.

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Time to Welcome October

For quite a few years now, we've planted half a dozen chrysanthemums along the northern edge of the driveway. This year, for the first time, as much as I can recall, someone's been eating the flowers, mostly the bright yellow ones. A quick internet search suggests that deer, rabbits, and / or squirrels are the most likely culprits. I don't see any hoof prints, so I'm guessing one or both of the latter two but have no more evidence to consider, although a number of flowers continue to lie on the ground around many of the plants.

wedding decoration pumpkins

Photo by J. Harrington

Archery season for deer is now open so there's a number of vehicles wandering the neighborhood and parking in the road ditches. Some of them may be hunting squirrels or rabbits instead of whitetails. That would explain the gun shots I've been hearing while walking Harry the beagle, who is sometimes gun (shot) shy.

Leaf color continues to develop and has been joined by a noticeable increase in leaf drop this past week. Time to start mulch-mowing and blowing so there's not a thick cover when snowfall starts. I'm working on convincing myself that I'm caring for the earth and not just wasting my time. Wish me luck. At least with the drought, grass mowing hasn't been needed nearly as often as during a "normal" summer.

Eleven years ago we were in the midst of preparations for a back yard wedding of the Daughter Person to our soon-to-be Son-In-Law. Leaf colors that year were more fully developed than now. Meanwhile, this year it's time to go pumpkin shopping and check out the snow blower for the season that comes after autumn.

Finally, please be sure to VOTE EARLY, VOTE BLUE [but don't vote often]. Our democracy (and our sanity) depends on you, and me, and each of US!

Vote

by Nikki Giovanni

It’s not a hug
Nor mistletoe at Christmas

It’s not a colored egg
At Easter
Nor a bunny hopping
Across the meadow

It’s a Vote

Saying you are
A citizen

Though it sometimes
Is chocolate
Or sometimes vanilla
It can be a female
Or a male
It is right
Or left
I can agree
Or disagree but
And this is an important but
I am a citizen

I should be able
To vote from prison
I should be able
To vote from the battlefield
I should be able
To vote when I get a driver’s license
I should be able
To vote when I can purchase a gun
I must be able
To vote
If I’m in the hospital
If I’m in the old folks’ home
If I’m needing a ride
To the Polling Place

I am a citizen

I must be able to vote

Folks were lynched
Folks were shot
Folks’ communities were gerrymandered
Folks who believed
In the Constitution were lied to
Burned out
Bought and sold
Because they agreed
All Men Were Created Equal

Folks vote to make us free

It’s not cookies
Nor cake
But it is the icing
That is so sweet

Good for the Folks
Good for Us

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Au revoir Summer

Local leaf color is coming on. The hummingbirds seem to have disappeared around the middle of last week. Waterfowl are taking training flights, building muscles for the trip South. Daytime temperatures have dropped to the low 70's and upper 60's. Autumn equinox occurs this Tuesday at 7:05 pm CDT. Rumor has it that peak Autumn [Out 'em] this year will occur on November 3, shortly after Samhain. We hope that day or two separation will give any evil spirits time to return to their lairs and not haunt voters.

Ruby Meadowhawk dragonfly (Sympetrum rubicundulum)

Photo by J. Harrington

We've seen few dragonflies and no tree frogs so far this September. I suspect that has a lot to do with are area continuing to be in a severe drought location. This year the county is well below its 30 year average precipitation. I continue to wonder if the anticipated super El Nino will break the drought.

For reasons I don't even want to try to understand, Blogger's no longer correctly, automatically, updating the most recent posting for the blog listing on the right-hand side of this page. Another success from AI? I'm debating if this annoyance is sufficient reason to move the blog to another platform, stop blogging, or, instead, just ignore the flaw. Wouldn't it be nice if tech giants made sure everything worked before imposing updated versions on users. I'm tired of feeling used by technology. Local gas stations are now trying to induce users to provide their phone numbers in return for a discounted per gallon price. Blue votes on November 3 probably offer a better ROI with possibly fewer scams and less spam.

Song for Autumn

by Mary Oliver

Don’t you imagine the leaves dream now
how comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of the air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees, especially those with
mossy hollows, are beginning to look for

the fires that will come—six, a dozen—to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
stiffens and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its long blue shadows. The wind wags
its many tails. And in the evening
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.

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Will it be a beautiful Autumn for US?

If you're looking forward to spending a $5,000 check from the White House on this year's Christmas presents, you might want to reconsider. Political realists tell me they expect to receive their checks a week or so after all the unredacted Epstein files have been released.

"mums" the word for autumn plantings

Photo by J. Harrington

Back in the real world, this past week the Better Half and I planted half a dozen mums along the driveway in what's become an annual seasonal event recognizing a transition from Summer to Autumn. Today's weather feels much less like Summer than did yesterday's. On the other hand, the local hummingbirds are still coming to the feeders, so they've not yet migrated. I'm curious to see if I'll have to refill the feeders next weekend or if today is the last time for this year.

Almost 71% of the state is experiencing some degree of drought. The nearby St. Croix river flows have been hovering just above the bottom ten (lowest) flow levels. Various regions throughout the state are beginning to show leaf colors. For the first time in months, I've been comfortable wearing a chamois shirt inside the house all day. If we get the wet winter we need, I hope it comes early as rain and not as heavy wet snow mid- or late winter.

As we slide into Autumn, let's cross our fingers and work our butts off to do all we can to have lots to be thankful for three weeks after election day. Please be sure to:

• Make sure you're registered to vote
• Vote early
• Encourage your neighbors, friends and families to vote
• Pray for US

         Ghazal: America the Beautiful

Alicia Ostriker
1937 –

Do you remember our earnestness our sincerity
in first grade when we learned to sing America

The Beautiful along with the Star-Spangled Banner
and say the Pledge of Allegiance to America

We put our hands over our first grade hearts
we felt proud to be citizens of America

I said One Nation Invisible until corrected
maybe I was right about America

School days school days dear old Golden Rule Days
when we learned how to behave in America

What to wear, how to smoke, how to despise our parents
who didn’t understand us or America

Only later learning the Banner and the Beautiful
live on opposite sides of the street in America

Only later discovering the Nation is divisible
by money by power by color by gender by sex America

We comprehend it now this land is two lands
one triumphant bully one still hopeful America

Imagining amber waves of grain blowing in the wind
purple mountains and no homeless in America

Sometimes I still put my hand tenderly on my heart
somehow or other still carried away by America

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September signs

Warm and humid summer-like weather continues through Labor Day weekend. Five months from now I will probably be thinking wistfully about it, but today I'm looking forward to more autumnal weather. At least I'm not faced with sitting quietly at my desk in a classroom while it's still Summer outside.

wild turkey flock in the back yard

Photo by J. Harrington

Signs of impending seasonal change continue to increase. Leaves, and acorns, are dropping from the oak trees along the driveway. We've noticed a couple of woolly bear caterpillars during the past few days. Their "orange" bands look wide, supporting concerns about the probable effects from a significant El Niño this winter, during which local temperatures are expected to be above normal while precipitation may, or may not, deviate from average. 

A large flock of wild turkey hens with almost fully grown poults has been pecking its way daily through the back yard for the past couple of days. This year's whitetail fawns have almost grown out of their spots. No sign yet of roadside asters coming into bloom. Leaf color is changing slowly. Peak color is several weeks away.

With all the outrage and craziness in the news, I find a degree of reassurance in tracking seasonal changes. We've had so much cloud cover over so many days that experiencing sunrise or sunset is a challenge. Being able to observe reproductive success through the growth of this year's deer and turkeys is somewhat compensatory. Life goes on.

Porch Swing in September

Ted Kooser
1939 –

The porch swing hangs fixed in a morning sun
that bleaches its gray slats, its flowered cushion
whose flowers have faded, like those of summer,
and a small brown spider has hung out her web
on a line between porch post and chain
so that no one may swing without breaking it.
She is saying it’s time that the swinging were done with,
time that the creaking and pinging and popping
that sang through the ceiling were past,
time now for the soft vibrations of moths,
the wasp tapping each board for an entrance,
the cool dewdrops to brush from her work
every morning, one world at a time.

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It's Autumn reigns time

Despite Friday's scattered rain, we remain in severe drought. That may have started to trigger stress related color change in local trees, or the change could just be because it's that time of year. I've no idea how we might sort out correlation from causation on stress versus less daylight for photosynthesis. Minnesota's actual leaf color progression, starting Tuesday, can be found here.

maple trees displaying early leaf color

Photo by J. Harrington

Hummingbirds continue to show up at the sugar water feeders. Increasing numbers of sandhill cranes and Canada geese are gleaning harvested fields. Whitetail deer coats are trading summer reds for winter grays. The number of birds perched on telephone wires keeps growing, then the flocks will migrate as they get an Urge for Going [Tom Rush cover]. With any luck, we could be about to enjoy eight, ten, or twelve weeks of energetic preparations for winter, leading to an extended period of rest, recuperation, and storytelling until the cycle begins again with the coming of springtime next year, bringing the return of migrants and new growth.

Some of us are hoping we get enough precipitation to break the drought while it's still warm enough to fall as rain. The anticipated "super" El Nino may lead to a milder, wetter winter, or not. As with the upcoming midterm elections, we'll hope for the best, and do what we can to bring such about, while realizing what we think may be best may not put US in the majority. Meanwhile, we're going to do our best to enjoy as much as we can of our favoritest upcoming season.

Poem Beginning with a Line from It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown

Maggie Smith

Just look—nothing but sincerity 

as far as the eye can see—

the way the changed leaves,

flapping their yellow underbellies

in the wind, glitter. The tree

looks sequined wherever

the sun touches. Does anyone

not see it? Driving by a field

of spray-painted sheep, I think

the world is not all changed.

The air still ruffles wool

the way a mother’s hand

busies itself lovingly in the hair

of her small boy. The sun

lifts itself up, grows heavy

treading there, then lets itself

off the hook. Just look at it

leaving—the sky a tigereye

banded five kinds of gold

and bronze—and the sequin tree

shaking its spangles like a girl

on the high school drill team,

nothing but sincerity. It glitters

whether we’re looking or not.

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Is zero some enough?

Labor Day, the unofficial end of Summer, is two weeks away. The Autumn Equinox officially ends Summer in the northern hemisphere exactly one month from today. This morning's predawn temperatures had a tinge of Autumn. Purple Love Grass (Eragrostis spectabilis) is shedding its tumbleseed spikelets. Who was it that wrote "parting is such sweet sorrow"? The season of growing is evolving into the harvest season.

purple love grass (Eragrostis spectabilis)

Photo by J. Harrington

Midterm elections are 72 days from now. Some of US are doubtful even a blue tsunami will actually settle much of anything but find hope in the growing pushback against (Disney and ABC sue FCC over license renewals) and resistance to the current powers that be in D.C. We do seem to be in the midst of the apocryphal Chinese curse "May you live in interesting times." I hesitate to suggest widespread boredom might be preferable but .... Or, perhaps we'll actually luck out and get an early Christmas present of a return to a democracy based on the rule of law instead of a wannabe dictator's whims and wishes. 

If you're up for it, here's a mind game to try: Think about the size and complexity of the universe. There's an estimated 2 trillion (with a "t")+ galaxies that we know of. There's black holes, dark matter, dark energy, and whatever else we haven't discovered or hypothesized about, plus the observable universe. So, the question for this game is: "Is the universe a zero sum game?" My answer is "How would we know?" For similar reasons, you might ask yourself why are we functioning in a system that allows limited numbers of billionaires or trillionaires but practically limitless numbers of starving, homeless adults and children. We discover the laws of the universe. On earth, we create the laws of society. Can't we do better?

Once the World Was Perfect 

By Joy Harjo

Once the world was perfect, and we were happy in that world.

Then we took it for granted.

Discontent began a small rumble in the earthly mind.

Then Doubt pushed through with its spiked head.

And once Doubt ruptured the web,

All manner of demon thoughts

Jumped through—

We destroyed the world we had been given

For inspiration, for life—

Each stone of jealousy, each stone

Of fear, greed, envy, and hatred, put out the light.

No one was without a stone in his or her hand.

There we were,

Right back where we had started.

We were bumping into each other

In the dark.

And now we had no place to live, since we didn't know

How to live with each other.

Then one of the stumbling ones took pity on another

And shared a blanket.

A spark of kindness made a light.

The light made an opening in the darkness.

Everyone worked together to make a ladder.

A Wind Clan person climbed out first into the next world,

And then the other clans, the children of those clans, their children,

And their children, all the way through time—

To now, into this morning light to you.

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Season's greetings to you and blessings upon you!

It's Thanksgiving week. Around here we are starting the week with well above average temperatures and look like we're going to have snow cover for Thanksgiving. The thirty-day forecast suggests that snow cover may last until January thaw or what passes for spring in our North Country. That's why we're behind schedule posting this. Yesterday was committed to changing the oil and checking out the snow blower (and cleaning up most of the mess I made in the garage) as well as cleaning up more fallen leaves plus the dead plants from the front porch planters that will soon (before the soil freezes) hold Christmas angels and greenery. By Thanksgiving, the "back yard" may look like this:

November usually brings a "dusting" of snow

Photo by J. Harrington

We've already started shopping for Christmas presents and received our first "holiday greetings" card. The weekend after Thanksgiving is traditionally when we put up lights. A pair of poinsettias is perched on the piano already. My long-standing dedication to deferring all Christmas activities until after Thanksgiving is being eroded by retail temptation, especially since the family is going to do our best to honor the Black Friday / Cyber Monday boycott from Thanksgiving until December 2, shopping only local and with cash (if stores still accept that😉).

We Ain't Buying It

Today we're planning on changing the oil in the tractor without increasing the mess in the garage, we hope. Then we get to mostly sit and watch what Mother Nature delivers late Tuesday and early Wednesday. We promise not to complain at all if the storm misses us entirely. That would give us something else to be grateful for come Thursday.

Many decades ago we lived a little north of the former Plimouth Plantation. It looks as though they've been increasing recognition of Wampanoag contributions to the first celebration since I moved to Minnesota. I'm please to see that during this Native American Heritage month. Check out Plimoth Patuxet this week but first, enjoy Joy Harjo's Thanksgiving poem:

Perhaps the World Ends Here

By Joy Harjo 

 

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

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Listening for the land to speak

The November section of our Minnesota Weatherguide Calendar and Almanac has a timely epigram from Linda Hogan:

There is a way that nature
speaks, that land speaks.
Most of the time we are 
simply not patient enough,
quiet enough, to pay
attention to the story.

November is Native American Heritage month but, with the federal government shut down since the beginning of October, most .gov websites haven't been updated. November is also the month when the North Country begins to accelerate its slide from autumn into winter. As I was poking about the corners of the internet yesterday, looking for some North Country phenology material, I came across the University of Minnesota's Center for Community-Engaged Learning's Sites of Resistance and Resilience in the Twin Cities on the UMN's Season Watch Resources page. The fortuitous discoveries above remind me of the old dictum: "No amount of planning will ever replace dumb luck."

early November North Country snow [2013]

Photo by J. Harrington

Winter, among those who live close to nature and her seasons, is often a time for quiet hunkering down and storytelling. We're headed in that direction. Summer's ants are disappearing and winter's mice are looking for warm places to nest. If this year is near typical, our "permanent" snow cover will begin about a week before Thanksgiving. If you haven't yet come across a copy of National Geographic's 1621 A New Look at Thanksgiving, I suggest you try to order a copy from Birchbark Books. I'm going to start this year's (re)reading later today.

Harvested cornfields are being gleaned by growing flocks of swans and Canada geese. A few of those waterfowl may winter over on the St. Croix river near Hudson WI. Most will migrate south as open water grows ice cover and harvested fields are covered by more and more snow. Since we lack a snow bird's cottage in the warm south, we'll practice a lethargic, hibernation-approximating existence, as much as we can get away with, until the seasons change again and spring returns.

Map

Linda Hogan

This is the world
so vast and lonely
without end, with mountains
named for men
who brought hunger
from other lands,
and fear
of the thick, dark forest of trees
that held each other up,
knowing fire dreamed of swallowing them
and spoke an older tongue,
and the tongue of the nation of wolves
was the wind around them.
Even ice was not silent.
It cried its broken self
back to warmth.
But they called it
ice, wolf, forest of sticks,
as if words would make it something
they could hold in gloved hands,
open, plot a way
and follow.

This is the map of the forsaken world.
This is the world without end
where forests have been cut away from their trees.
These are the lines wolf could not pass over.
This is what I know from science:
that a grain of dust dwells at the center
of every flake of snow,
that ice can have its way with land,
that wolves live inside a circle
of their own beginning.
This is what I know from blood:
the first language is not our own.

There are names each thing has for itself,
and beneath us the other order already moves.
It is burning.
It is dreaming.
It is waking up.

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Approaching Samhain

This Friday morning past, the wind was finally calm after a hard frost night. I watched the maple trees in front of the house drop leaves like oversized snow flakes. Soon, what passes for our front lawn was colored yellow. Today we mulched the lawn's leaves. Yesterday and today we had collected windrows of leaves along the south side of the driveway and dumped several garden cart loads at the wood's edge behind the house. Most of the oak leaves are still hanging on. Autumn is my favorite season except for leaf fall.

While emptying one cart load of fallen leaves, I tripped over what at first I thought was a dead branch that turned out to be a mouse-eaten four-point antler, shed from a white-tail buck that would have been an eight-pointer. First time in my life I've come across an antler shed. It's now a keepsake.

may only friendly spirits visit you

Photo by J. Harrington

From what I've noticed during my recent drives, all of the soy beans and most of the corn has been harvested. Fields and treetops are looking more and more bare by the day. As we approach Samhain at month's end we recognize we're entering the dark half of the year. The cycle continues through the Circle of the Year. I was contemplating some of those kinds of thoughts and accompanying feelings when my Jeep's music system started playing Joni Mitchell's fantastic song The Circle Game. All the thoughts and feelings mixed together were enhanced because our granddaughter had recently celebrated her fifth birthday.

It seems to me that we would do well to live so that we are more aware of the passing seasons and what's seasonal. Such an adjustment might help us to more readily live in the moment. Ms. Mitchell captured the essence of that in her song Big Yellow Taxi. "Don't it always seem to go / That you don't know what you've got / Till it's gone...."

You''re right, I've stayed away from politics and world events in this posting. remember the old advice about not saying anything if you can't say something good? Now is the time for me to share below these much better than good lyrics and thoughts from Ms. Mitchell and wish US all a Happy Halloween and Blessed Samhain.

The Circle Game

by Joni Mitchell

Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star

Then the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like when you're older must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town
And they tell him take your time it won't be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

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Autumn, weather or not

Recently I've found myself wondering where's the liberal, progressive, Democrat equivalent to Project 2025. Eventually I realized Will Rogers anticipated the question and provided an answer many decades ago when he noted "I am not a member of any organized party — I am a Democrat." He also shared a number of other still trenchant observations that indicate how unfortunately little our politics and culture have changed over time.

Yesterday the Better Half and I joined several hundred others in downtown Lindstrom, MN to protest in favor of "NO KINGS" for US. The weather and passers-by were both generally supportive although there were several pickup drivers wearing red caps and raising middle fingers to demonstrate they're among the fat, dumb, and sappy locals.

October brings peak color to the neighborhood

Photo by J. Harrington

So far this Autumn we’ve seen one woolly worm that was predominantly red and, a week or so later, another mostly black. Given the way we’ve had well above average temperatures this fall, it’s hard to guess whether La Nina or global warming (or something else) will dominate weather patterns this winter. Meanwhile, we’re at or neat peak color this weekend and the wind for several days has been doing its best to spread the vibrant colors in the trees onto the ground.

Halloween is rapidly approaching. I bought three pumpkins this past week, although the flower pots they usually stand in are still full of living plants. No killing frosts yet. Will we see one by month’s end? Hard to say this year. At least so far neither deer nor rabbits have nibbled on the pumpkins. I’m grateful for that.

October

Paul Laurence Dunbar
1872 – 1906

October is the treasurer of the year,
    And all the months pay bounty to her store;
The fields and orchards still their tribute bear,
    And fill her brimming coffers more and more
But she, with youthful lavishness,
    Spends all her wealth in gaudy dress,
And decks herself in garments bold
    Of scarlet, purple, red, and gold.

She heedeth not how swift the hours fly,
    But smiles and sings her happy life along;
She only sees above a shining sky;
    She only hears the breezes’ voice in song.
Her garments trail the woodlands through,
    And gather pearls of early dew
That sparkle, till the roguish Sun
    Creeps up and steals them every one.

But what cares she that jewels should be lost,
    When all of Nature’s bounteous wealth is hers?
Though princely fortunes may have been their cost,
    Not one regret her calm demeanor stirs.
Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free,
    She lives her life out joyously,
Nor cares when Frost stalks o’er her way
    And turns her auburn locks to gray.

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Ban hate, not books

This week, Oct 5 - 11, is Banned Books Week. Please try to read at least one from the lists of thousands of books banned during the past year. Remember, an idle mind is the devil’s workshop. Keep your mind busy by reading. Disobey Big Brother and The Party!

If you think you don't have enough time and/or money to tackle a whole banned book, you can at least take a crack at following this link and reading: Why Intolerance and Extremism Happen (and how to protect democracy in a divided world). I haven't quite finished it yet, but I'm pretty sure you'll find it worth your time.

After today, actual temperatures should approach a more seasonable level than the windy mid- to upper- 80s we've been experiencing, at least most places other than Washington, D.C., where folks are busy exhaling hot air and blaming someone else rather than actually solving problems for anyone other than pedophiles or the top 1% of wealth holders.

According to the Minnesota DNR, locally we should experience peak leaf color about the end of the week, so next weekend would be a good time to put down the banned book you've been reading and got for a walk or drive and do some leaf peeping. While you're doing that, you might want to think about how Joy Harjo has managed to not get any of her books banned.

This Morning I Pray for My Enemies

by Joy Harjo

And whom do I call my enemy?
An enemy must be worthy of engagement.
I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking.
It’s the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind.
The heart is the smaller cousin of the sun.
It sees and knows everything.
It hears the gnashing even as it hears the blessing.
The door to the mind should only open from the heart.
An enemy who gets in, risks the danger of becoming a friend.

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Autumn, approaching

I missed posting yesterday. The day was devoted to celebrating the birthday of a certain 5 year old granddaughter and I obviously failed to plan ahead and post on Saturday in anticipation. The celebration(s) was / were successful and everyone enjoyed the party, presents and cake, especially the guest of honor.

Over the past week or ten days I’ve noticed half-a-dozen or so new dandelion flowers along our roadway and three or four (common?) lilac bushes in bloom in the area. This is not the Minnesota I moved to about fifty years ago.

a hint of color tints nearby trees

Photo by J. Harrington

As we enter October in a day or so, temperatures are forecast to exceed 80℉ and approach ninety℉ by Friday.The regular waterfowl season opened Saturday last to weather too warm to get serious about duck hunting. Local leaf color looks to be about 5% so far, maples showing best. The bur oak at the end of our drive is dropping leaves faster than changing color.

Someone (deer?) knocked over and off the wire protector cage from one of the replacement serviceberry bushes. Neither bush is showing any color yet but at least they’ve lived longer than last spring’s plantings. Our fingers remain crossed these bushes will make it through the winter and beyond.

And Now It’s September,

By Barbara Crooker

 

and the garden diminishes: cucumber leaves rumpled

and rusty, zucchini felled by borers, tomatoes sparse

on the vines. But out in the perennial beds, there’s one last

blast of color: ignitions of goldenrod, flamboyant

asters, spiraling mums, all those flashy spikes waving

in the wind, conducting summer’s final notes.

The ornamental grasses have gone to seed, haloed

in the last light. Nights grow chilly, but the days

are still warm; I wear the sun like a shawl on my neck

and arms. Hundreds of blackbirds ribbon in, settle

in the trees, so many black leaves, then, just as suddenly,

they’re gone. This is autumn’s great Departure Gate,

and everyone, boarding passes in hand, waits

patiently in a long, long line.

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