Giving Thanks

CEDAR WAXWINGS
I'm not certain they were cedar waxwings, high, high up in the bare branches of a tree near the bike path last Sunday, but that's my best guesstimate, according to a few bird sites that I visited on the web. They were impossible to ignore--a large flock twittering and carrying on like dozens of squeaky wheels. I hope to see more of them through the winter. We have chickadees here, just like the ones at home, and squirrels are still bustling about, although my squirrel sightings are much fewer and farther between than they were a month or two ago.

AMERICAN THANKSGIVING
Thanksgiving in the U.S. is a big deal--my university classes for the week were cancelled--and it is always held the fourth Thursday in November. I helped Jan, my landlady cook up a feast of turkey with gluten-free trimmings for a few of her friends. It felt quite strange to sit down to a turkey dinner with three complete strangers and my landlady (who is only an acquaintance, really). It felt as though I was in a movie about a somewhat odd assortment of people, brought together by somewhat odd circumstances to break bread and give thanks together. I am thankful for having this cosy bedroom in New Hampshire, for having a kitchen in which to cook, and for being able to cook and able to be of help. I am thankful for Thursday's social gathering, which was fun and entertaining.

Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving here--the kick-off to the Christmas shopping season (my Christmas shopping is done, thank you very much!) and the busiest day of the year in retail stores in the U.S. I observed Black Friday by exploring a new-to-me bike trail at Ashuelot River Park, here in Keene. The photo above was taken there, and you can see more photos of the park by clicking here!

BEAUTY WALK
Some people refer to getting their 'beauty sleep,' and I rejuvenate by getting my 'beauty walks.' A beauty walk involves walking outdoors in nature, preferably with my camera, and it is done for the sake of both sanity and vanity! A Waldorf teacher from Alaska came to give a recruiting talk to my class a few weeks ago, and she shared the Northeners' Survival Secret with us. To cope with the severe cold and meagre daylight hours during winters that seem to go on forever, northeners get outdoors and get active every chance they get. Those Waldorf kids in Alaska spend more time outside during the school week in the frozen North than students do in the hospitable South. Works for me!

CYCLING THROUGH THE LEAVES
We're not 'dashing through the snow' yet, but in October I noticed with curiosity that homeowners here rake all of their leaves--and there are lots and lots of leaves--into piles and drifts along the sidewalks and curbs, instead of bagging them. My landlady, Jan told me that city crews come along in their trucks and vacuum up these piles of leaves. I even saw people in their yards riding on garden-tractor-vacuum machines. It was fun to ride my bike down the hill from Robin Hood Park, blasting through those leaf piles!

Last weekend it was capital-C Cold for the first time here. I didn't go up to Robin Hood Park, because the back brake on my bike didn't work, and that brake is needed for the ride down the hill. Andy's Cycle Shop seems to be closed down, at least temporarily, so I found another shop a little farther from home, but still within cycling distance--Norm's. I told the bike repair kid that my back brake quit working. He hefted my bike into the back of the shop as if it was only half its weight, and put it up on a stand. Then he turned to me and asked,

"Did you have it outside?"

Outside? I'm not supposed to have my bike outside? The brake worked perfectly well inside the warm shop, and it seems there is moisture inside my brake cable that freezes, and causes my brake to freeze. Jan told me I can keep the bike in her covered porch for the winter, and now I am learning to carry it up and down the front porch steps.

COOKING FOR ONE
Cooking for one is easy and fun! I love using Jan's toaster oven for cooking and for re-heating leftovers (I am a 'microwave snob'). I slap a piece of parchment paper on the baking tray, and cleaning up is no issue. I cook a recipe that serves 4-6 people, and freeze the leftovers in plastic 6-ounce yogurt containers overnight. In the morning, I pop out the frozen portions into freezer bags, to protect them against freezer burn. Each week my shopping list includes a single potato, a single onion, about six pieces of fruit, a fresh vegetable to cook, fresh ingredients for lunch sandwiches or salads, and a box of tea (twenty teabags are in a box, and I drink a bare minimum of three cups of tea per day). For supper tomorrow evening I can thaw out a portion of sweet-and-sour pineapple chicken, squash soup, lentil tomato soup, or mushroom cream sauce to go with either a chicken thigh or some made-ahead meatballs. It's a gourmet selection--a veritable embarasment of riches. More for which to be thankful!

Here is this week's verse from COTS--The Calendar of the Soul:

In secret inwardly to feel
How all that I've preserved of old
Is quickened by new-risen sense of self:
This shall, awakening, pour forth cosmic forces
Into the outer actions of my life
And growing, mold me into true existence.

The Mist and All

The Mist and All

by Dixie Willson

I like the fall
The mist and all
I like the night owl’s lonely call
And wailing sound
Of wind around

I like the gray
November day
And dead, bare boughs that coldly sway
Against my pane
I like the rain

I like to sit
And laugh at it
And tend my cozy fire a bit
I like the fall
The mist and all

I have always enjoyed this poem, and have used it with my Heart & Hands classes, although in Edmonton November days are more likely to be crisp, clear and frosty, rather than misty. But the poem has sprung to mind this week, riding my bicycle to and from the university in Keene. I've arrived at Antioch and home again wet every day. In Edmonton, if the puddles in the road are still, it isn't raining. In Keene, the rain can be sneaky. The puddles can be still, but when I begin pedaling my bike the 'mist' seems to begin moving vertically, and my ride becomes decidedly drippy. It's been wet, but warm this week--18 degrees Celsius, this afternoon! It seems rainy here because it is rainy; I looked it up and Keene receives 41 inches of precipitation per year, on average, as compared with Edmonton's 18.

FISHING IS SUCH HARD WORK
Last week, as I rounded the reservoir at the end of my customary Sunday-afternoon stroll, there was a car parked by the side of the road where it runs along the edge of the water. Two men stood by the car; one wielded a fishing rod, and the other was there for moral support, I suppose. I watched the valiant fisherman cast his line, and follow the hook and sinker with his gaze as they struck the water's surface. Then he laid his rod upon the pavement behind the back wheels of the car, and the two energetic sportsmen entered the vehicle and closed the doors, waiting, I imagine, to see whether anything would bite! Such exertion!

COMFORT ROUTINES
I am such a phlegmatic creature of habit . . . I take comfort and satisfaction from establishing little daily and weekly rhythms for myself. Perhaps they help to make me feel at home, and give me the sense of having some degree of control over my life away from home and loved ones. Thursdays, Fridays, and sometimes Saturdays are class days, and I look forward to spending time with my classmates and instructors. I tend to linger at the university after my last class each week, feeling just a tiny bit reluctant to go back to the solitary portion of my week. Every Friday marks the passage of one more New Hampshire week, bringing me ever-closer to Edmonton. Sundays and Thursdays are bath days; on Mondays and Wednesdays, I do bedroom Tai-Chi. ('Bedroom' Tai-Chi involves a lot of repositioning and shuffling around, as I would need about ten feet by twenty-four feet of clear floor space to do a proper set. I don't know of any Tai Chi club within biking distance, and I'm too shy to perform a set in public!) I usually cook a recipe on Mondays, and freeze it in individual portions for future meals. I do laundry on Tuesdays, and wash my sheets once a month.

To set the weekend days apart from my regular Monday-to-Wednesday homework days, I celebrate by serving myself a Guinness or a Mike's Hard with Saturday's supper, and taking myself out on a breakfast date each Sunday. This involves a decaf latte, fresh orange juice and a pastry at one of the coffee shops on Main Street, where I linger over one of my class reading assignments. (I have to do the coffee-shop thing--I used to notice students with their books or lap tops in the Second Cup in Edmonton, and picture myself as one of those, so I now make a point of studying in the coffee shop, although I must say I am more comfortable and less distracted, working at my own little desk in my bedroom on Fowler Street.) I pick up groceries, and head home for more school work and then lunch; then I cycle and walk uphill to Robin Hood Park for my outdoor beauty-walk treat at the reservoir. My assignments are worthwhile and interesting, making schoolwork an effective way to mitigate that whisper of loneliness that hovers close by, here in graduate-school land.

But the best comfort routine of all is my daily evening phone call to Ken--thank you, dear Skype Angel! Ken reads me my mail, and we exchange all the inconsequential news of our respective days. We communicate anything that needs to be communicated to each other, but mostly we just simply hang out together, sharing the same ear space, so to speak. I grouse at him if he has the TV on, or rustles papers near the microphone, or tries to walk around while we're connected, but we often look things up on the net (since we're on line with Skype, anyway) or email things (like photos) to each other while we're 'together' on Skype. I love talking to my kids as well, and to Kaliana! It is incredibly reassuring to be able to access home so cheaply and easily!

The soul's connection this week:

I feel my own force, bearing fruit
And gaining strength to give me to the world.
My inmost being I feel charged with power
To turn with clearer insight
Toward the weaving of life's destiny.

Holiday Weekend

OAK FOLLOWS MAPLE
Two and three weeks ago the maples here were exploding with flaming colour; now those leaves have mostly fallen, and the oaks are a most delicious shade of honey-bronze. We breathed it in as we walked around the reservoir at Robin Hood Park this past weekend--my daughter, Rose, her partner, Ze'ev and yours truly. Rose and Ze'ev drove down from Ottawa on Hallowe'en for a visit, and treated me to a delightful weekend of exploring a bit of New Hampshire by car. We 'touched down' in nearby Roxbury, Monadnock State Park, Peterborough, Portsmouth on the Piscataqua River, and Newcastle, where we glimpsed some of New Hampshire's sixteen miles of seacoast. See all about it by visiting my web album! The three of us were blessed with a brilliantly sunny Sunday for driving about, although it was much chillier than you would guess by viewing the photos. And no wonder, for WINTER begins in two days, according to Liza Dalby in East Wind Melts the Ice. The season of frost peaks around the December solstice, cold strengthens as days begin to lengthen, and early spring follows close upon the heels of Brigid's Day, which is February first.

My Rose and her Ze'ev are the cute couple in the photo on this page. My generous landlady, Jan, welcomed them into her home, and put them up in one of her rooms which is conveniently, temporarily vacant. Jan introduced Rose and Ze'ev to her gentle pups Precious, Safi, Hero and Winnie, and they all seemed to enjoy meeting one another. Jan also treated us to a visit with her ball python, Diablo. You can see by the photo of me that Diablo is a charming fellow. The oak leaves were photographed at Strawbery Banke, an outdoor historical museum of vintage houses and gardens in Portsmouth. The Piscataqua River is nice, but we were hoping to see the Atlantic Ocean in Portsmouth. We drove a little further on to Newcastle, and the scenic view above was shot by Rose, as we admired the late afternoon sunlight at the real, true seacoast. On our way back toward Keene we ogled the multi-million-dollar homes along the sandy beaches of Hampton.

Rose and Ze'ev were intrigued by some of the presidential election preparations here. Saturday morning, there was a rally at Keene's Central Square. Saturday afternoon, we saw crews setting up in Peterborough for John McCain's Sunday visit there. Sunday evening, driving west from the coast back to Keene, there were police cars with flashing lights at regular intervals all along the highway. Some access ramps were blocked off, and we were barred from making a necessary turn toward Keene. Ze'ev drove a little further along the highway; then turned around in time for us to see the black McCain campaign bus make the turn toward Peterborough, followed by a couple of campaign support buses. McCain Blend and Obama Blend coffee beans are offered for sale in Keene, and we were invited to join 'the action' at Obama's campaign headquarters this morning as we drove in search of a downtown parking spot. Tomorrow is voting day for American citizens, and the rest will be history.

I felt just a little sad and lonely to see Rose and Ze'ev head back to Ottawa this afternoon, but oh, what lovely memories! I would NEVER keep track of my time away from home, but I've done nine weeks in Keene since the end of August, and I have seven left to go until my trip to Edmonton for Christmas. I booked my flight home for May 2009 as well, so I can go ahead and write countdown numbers in my daytimer--a number every Friday, to track the weeks until returning to Edmonton. Oh ya, I said I wouldn't track my time away, didn't I?

KEENE PUMPKIN FESTIVAL
Between 1992 and 2003 Keene chalked up eight world records for the most pumpkins appearing at their annual pumpkin festival. I do believe this is the biggest public event that Keene celebrates each year. Riding my bicycle to and from the university the weekend of October 25, I 'participated' in this year's festival by admiring the tall scaffolds loaded with rows of jack-o'-lanterns, and crossing paths with crowds of festival-goers. The Saturday-night fireworks were splendid, viewed from my second-storey bedroom window!

COURSE WORK AND CLASS VISITS
To fulfill our drama requirement, my class of thirteen is learning The Shepherd's Play, a musical play telling the Mary, Joseph and Jesus story, that is traditionally performed in Waldorf schools. We will be presenting it in a nearby community hall in mid-December. I have been cast as the hallowed Angel Gabriel, and I have a glorious solo to sing. I continue to keep up with assigned readings, reports, drawings, and my research paper on Tolstoy. It was my turn to introduce 'my philosopher' in class last Friday. Rather than impersonating the novelist himself, I chose to present myself as Countess Sophie Andreevna Tolstoy introducing my husband. Don't you know, my Lyovochka and I had thirteen children together, ten of whom survived infancy and early childhood. I ran the household, nursed my babies and tutored them myself, transcribed War and Peace and Anna Karenina from Leo's illegible scribbles into my own clear handwriting, felt that I was participating intimately in the lives of his wonderful story characters, organized the publication of the novels, and translated my husband's work into French and German!
. . . just an ordinary housewife . . .
A favourite assignment of my Waldorf instructors is to have students create a 'notebook' or 'journal,' including notes taken during class, personal reflections on the material studied, and in some cases, illustrations or some form of artistic rendering of the course content. For my painting class, my watercolour notebook includes miniatures of our class painting assignments, illustrating the steps along the way to completing each painting. Re-copying my notes makes my arm ache from time to time, but it's an excellent review, and keeps the learning fresh in my mind.

Thanks to classmates willing to drive me to schools in different towns, I have completed my required visits to various Waldorf elementary classrooms, and have come to the conclusion that there are have and have-not teachers. Some teachers have their classes--the children are focused and engaged, and teaching and learning carry on in a lively, interesting fashion. Other teachers have not 'got' their classes. Children fidget and squirm frightfully, rock or jump with or even fall out of their chairs, and receive 'strikes' so that they have to serve penalties by standing motionless beside their desks. The have-not teachers struggle continually to earn the attention of their charges, and this is all quite uncomfortable for the visitor (me) to observe. I would like to offer a single tip to the have-not teachers out there: After making a request of the children, such as, for example, 'Leave the chairs alone,' wait for all hands to come off of the chairs before proceeding with your activity. The waiting is the indication that the behavior is required, in order for the lesson to continue. It is simple and effective.

Here we are, part-way between Michaelmas and Winter Solstice, in the thirty-first week of the soul year that began at Easter. Consider Steiner's seasonal verse for us:

The light from spirit depths

Strives to ray outwards, sun-imbued;

Transformed to forceful will of life

It shines into the senses' dullness

To bring to birth the powers

Whereby creative forces, soul-impelled,

Shall ripen into human deeds.