America

Fall

The first full day of fall begins with cold dripping rain. It is dark out. A fitting beginning to this new season.

I should make some tea.

I did.

The house continues its changing.

I had curtain rods installed last week. Only on the eastern facing windows. They’re not for privacy. No one can see up here anyway. But I’m concerned about the sun fading pictures and book spines over time. I’ve seen so many books ruined by time spent in sunny rooms.

The rain pours on the dark forest outside my window. It is cold, and I feel summer’s life fading. The memory of that season, the latest of so many that happened and ended before.

It was a good summer in many ways. I was gone for a good chunk of it on the Baltic expedition. (I worked on the Latvia and Estonia parts but couldn’t finish. Next week.) I was sick when I returned and that ate more summer time.

Summer’s beginning was extremely hot and dry. August and September were unusually cool and dry (until the equinox.)

Wednesday

Rain. Rain. Rain.

3 days of it so far. The phone says rain til next Wednesday.

Perfect timing. I’m missing the sunrises that appear twice a year in the gap in the forest before my home. Every year around the equinox, the sun moves north to south or south to north through the opening.

There are only ten pages left in this journal. 5 blank leaves. This one was begun last May in Parma, Italy.

I’ve begun writing more in it recently. Why? I’m not sure.

Well, soon I’ll add this to the pile. 24? 25? More? I do number the spines when I finish one. I started seriously journaling December 31, 2013.

It is an ugly book. The faux leather covering is wearing away. It was just something of no value that came into the warehouse.

MFK Fisher is sharing my bed again. An Alphabet for Gourmets. It is inscribed… by me! My old friend must have sold it back to Wonder Book. It doesn’t bother me. We haven’t spoken for a few years. Books are made to come and go. No one keeps a book forever. Sooner or later, the book moves on. Lucky if it goes to someone who will treasure it. Unlucky if it goes to some “place” that pulps books it can’t sell in an automated way. This book has no barcode or ISBN. 1949. Viking Press. “Second Printing October 1949.” Nice jacket.

Odd that it made its way back to me amongst the 500,000 or so Wonder Book sorts through each month.

Well, I’m glad to have Mary Frances back in my bed again. It’s been a while.

Weird dreams last night. Mostly fun and benign. But one was one of those “real” ones. I awoke and my feet were red and bloody. ‘How could that happen?’ I thought. ‘I was in bed with my feet up all night.’

When I really woke up, I checked, and my feet were fine.

Thursday

More rain. Day and night.

Last night, it was heavy at times and must have awakened me.

I have been on a poetry roll recently, and last night was no exception.

9/26/24 Mt

In the black silent night
I reach across my bed
Stretching for the pad and pen
which I know are always there
When I was little
I was afraid of the dark
and unsure what was under the bed
All that was in the past
Now I fear the dark in the future
looming like an approaching horizon
I reach in the dark
for the lamp switch I know is there
to cast light upon this page
where these words are scratched out
Then the light goes out
The room goes black
and I see you
before the darkness
of sleep takes me

I went out early to drive big blue recycling receptacle down the mountain. I secured the lid with a bungee cord. The tailgate dropped open, and water came gushing out.

I lifted the heavy thing into the bed of the pickup truck and drove down to the county road. Recycling gets picked up every other Thursday. Another way to keep time up here. Though many times there is not enough waste to bother driving down. I don’t generate much. Paper goes to the warehouse for recycling. Organic waste, either the dogs eat it, or it gets composted.

The rain stops and starts all morning. The phone says it will rain every day til next Wednesday.

9/23/24 Mt

There is one lone light
in this house atop the mountain
Outside a cold rain falls
The bedroom glows golden warm
The only sound is the soft storm
pattering just beyond the window
The bed is soft, the covers warm
The night ahead will be long and lonely
Will the sun ever rise over the forest
Or is this the darkness which never ends?

There is a mirror upon the door
Hung so you could see each morning
how you’d look to the world you’d face
Though you left years ago
The mirror remains suspended
Empty and infinitely deep
I wonder if I gaze in it
and search its deepest recesses
does your reflection linger
far away in time, space, memory?
But the glass once so full of you
is mute and shows only the still life
in the room it sees today
But I will watch waiting
for you to return to the fore again

Enough of that sappiness.

The week has been a whirlwind, as almost all of them are.

A new grandson was born last Saturday! My younger son’s first. I’ve only seen my new grandson once. Doctors don’t want many visitors the first month because of COVID and other dread diseases. I almost burst into tears when I saw the tiny thing.

So life has changed. I have two grandsons in just over a year!

Last Friday, I went to Baltimore to see the rock group America. Driving through that dysfunctional city was a little daunting. I really wanted to have dinner again at the classic Prime Rib. It is a little difficult to find, but we had gone a year ago to see Dylan. The mood is high class—black and gold painted wood paneling. Chagalls and Picassos (real) on the wall. Waiters—all men, I think—of a certain age—as if they’d been there for decades. Impeccable.

I started with a martini. She had a sidecar. Soft shell crab appetizer. Oysters with crab imperial atop them.

A filet Pittsburgh style. She had a huge prime rib (30 ounce bone-in.) Au gratin. Bearnaise.

It was worth the splurge.

The concert was excellent too. Just one of the original three still performs.

I was just a kid when the first album came out.

Never went to many concerts back then. Too stressful, and I couldn’t afford good seats.

I awoke Saturday morning to the news the baby had been born. I’d been saving a first edition of Winnie-the-Pooh to give them for the occasion. I also searched around my newly organized home library for my favorite children’s poetry anthologies—Silver Pennies and More Silver Pennies. It took a while, but I found my little hoard of them and chose one of each as gifts.

The 2025 magnetic calendars arrived. We’ve done them each year since 1995 (the oldest I can find.)

We got a couple thousand to give out with a minimum purchase at the stores.

There are also some new t-shirt designs and children’s sizes as well.

The weekend had me going through carts. I am forcing myself to go through the aging problematic ones like this.

You can imagine how dusty these are. They are mentally challenging, as only the most problematic material accumulates on them. But I think I did 7 or 8. These carts are now freed up for use throughout the warehouse. Poor Annika had a lot of crumbly or gigantic old leather-bound tomes dumped on her.

The weekend ended with a satisfied mind and a bit of champagne leftover from another great meal with a friend from Hawaii last week.

We’ve been working hard to fill the 19 new glass bookcases.

And I came up with the innovation of hanging signs from the ceiling.

I think it will help new customers figure out exactly what we do with physical media in the stores.

I’ve been working so hard on books that most evenings I go home too exhausted to do much. But I did push myself to do a bunch of transplanting in the rain. I also got the lady’s slippers and trillium planted. (They were so good I ordered more.) The daffodils will be here before too long.

A collection of Modern Firsts has been coming to me. These are fun. Not “hyper” modern, but more classic. The prices on many have not held up very well. The seafaring madness for Patrick O’Brien and his ilk has chilled considerably. Too bad. They are great reads and full of real history. Still, it is fun to see great jackets like these.