Drink Maple

Seen while driving south on Route 5 between Sutton and West Burke on Saturday, February 17.

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Photo Hunters: Antique

My Antique Home

The beams and roof of my Vermont home were made from large trees 106 years ago. If you click on the photos, a new window will open so that you can view them large.

This first photo is shot directly overhead at the highest point in the roof.


This photo shows a large beam with the bark from long ago still on the wood.

Thank you for looking at my attic! See you next week when the theme is Soft!

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Booking Through Thursday: Valentine's Day

So, in honor of Valentine's Day . . .

1. Love stories? Yes or No?
2. If yes, "romances" as a genre? Or just, well, stories that have love stories? (Nobody's going to call "Pride & Prejudice" a "romance," right?)

Don't forget to leave a link to your actual response in the comments!

I love love stories! I enjoy temporarily disappearing into a love story on a summer day. Maeve Binchy, Elizabeth Berg, Willa Cather, Rosamunde Pilcher, Louisa May Alcott, Alice Hoffman, Annie Proulx and Jennifer Weiner: these are the authors of the love stories I love. The women are complicated and often intense (like I am).

Three of the greatest love stories I can remember are Ethan Frome, Wuthering Heights and Silas Marner. I continue to read these books every few years.

I have to admit that in the year following my husband's death, I wallowed in romance fiction. If you remember from a previous post about my reading journal and LibraryThing (see my author cloud on the left sidebar), I have kept a list of books read for the past 17 years. Even then, in my grief, I was too embarrassed of this new obsession to even write the titles down! But I did keep a list of the authors. I had one reason for doing so: I would read everything by one author and then move on to the next, so I had to keep track of who I had read! Some of the romance novelists still stand out in my mind: Judith McNaught, Elizabeth Lowell, Linda Miller, Danielle Steele, Johanna Lindsey. They each have a distinct style that I enjoyed.

I read all of the romances sold in the huge superstore grocery store in Connecticut where I then lived. After that I had to begin to trade romances with other women! When I finally ran out of novels, I turned to Harlequin Romances. The thin plots and characters of those books finally wore me out and I stopped reading them.

So as my life moves forward, I look forward to doing Valentine's Day and no longer thinking about it! Have a great week!

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Valentine's Blizzard: 1st Photos

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Hartford is the Worst Again

This is a school, SAND (South Arsenal Neighborhood Development) Elementary, at which I taught in Hartford, Connecticut. It has since been demolished in order to discourage gang activity. There were shoot-outs in the school yard. There was no recess outside because of the danger to the children. This is also the school where I found Sammy and Matilda.

Now Hartford has another "worst": cafeteria food safety (from Center for Science in the Public Interest):

Of the 20 jurisdictions evaluated, Hartford, Conn., received the lowest score, 37 out of a possible 100. Hartford had the highest number of critical violations, including multiple cases of dirty equipment and utensils, inadequate hand-washing facilities, and poor personnel hygiene. Hartford also had infrequent inspections (on average, one per year, violating the federal requirements for two inspections), poor access to inspection reports, and a weak food code. Other jurisdictions with failing scores include the District of Columbia, with the lowest inspection frequency; Rhode Island; Minneapolis, Minn.; and Hillsborough (includes Tampa) and Dade (includes Miami) counties in Florida. Montgomery County, Md., barely passed, as it has the most outdated food code.

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Bull the Moose

Bull the moose lives on the Doug Nelson farm in Irasburg. David Lawrence of Albany has raised him since he was abandoned by his mother at one day old. Mr. Lawrence visits him daily. Here Mr. Lawrence is feeding Bull a jelly doughnut. For more about Mr. Lawrence and Bull, pick up a copy of this week’s Chronicle. Photo by Bethany M. Dunbar. The Barton Chronicle.

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Snow at Night

Click on the photos to open a new window and view them full size.

I opened the window to take this photo. My front steps are buried.



I wanted to get more into the storm so here I leaned out the window and was blasted by wind and snow. The scary yellow shape in the back is the "dangerous curve" sign on the road way out front.

And I have almost finished cleaning the downstairs bathroom!

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Avalanche!

You can see why, on this pressure gradient map from 5PM, why we are having a blizzard.

This storm isn't dramatic for those of you (as in New York State and Colorado) used to this, but it's dramatic for me. I had finally started moving and was in the kitchen getting some window cleaner from under the sink. The kitchen is in the back of this 102 year old house. The new downstairs bathroom is an addition to the right side of the back of the house. I can see the wall of the addition from the kitchen window. Two or three of the cats were in the bathroom helping me clean and waiting for me to return when suddenly the whole house began to gently rumble. I felt the vibrations before I heard them. The sound grew louder and louder. The cats flew out of the bathroom and into the basement. Then there was a huge WHOOOOSH as mountains of snow came down the roof in the back. The whole house shuddered.

The kerosene tank (a 275 gallon tank standing outside) is now invisible. You cannot even tell there is a tank there. The snow has totally blocked the back bathroom door so I have no exit from the back in case of fire. But the snow in the back dooryard, after blowing off the mountain, is at least four feet deep anyhow. If I could open the door, I would not be able to get through the snow.

So this blizzard is getting exciting now. I guess. The split rail fence in the front is invisible. The piles of plowed snow from the old storms is now at least 8 feet tall and I have not even been plowed for this storm yet. I will try to get photos tomorrow. I saw one plow go by today and the driver, I could tell by watching, was blinded by the whiteouts and was bent over the steering wheel going extremely slow. He never plowed over my mailbox! That is a victory!

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Did you know?

A video with important implications for educators. Is what we teach relevant? What does relevance mean anyhow?

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When the NWS Uses Punctuation

We are under a Blizzard Warning until 7AM tomorrow morning (Thursday). So far so good: I still have power, my phone is working again, all of my kids are home (from Washington, DC to the Canadian border) because of the bad weather, and they all have their chat clients open on their computers for the day. I've had a nap and will clean house later. The cats have given up fighting and are now napping. And I'm getting a dog in the summer! I am so psyched!!

This is one paragraph from the blizzard warning and I think it's both ominous and funny when the science guys begin using exclamation points:

THIS IS A DANGEROUS WINTER WEATHER SITUATION!
BE AWARE THAT TRAVEL WILL BECOME NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE
BY AUTOMOBILE DUE TO BLIZZARD CONDITIONS WITH HEAVY SNOW
AND BLOWING AND DRIFTING SNOW LATER TODAY OVER
THE ENTIRE NORTH COUNTRY. DO NOT TRAVEL THIS AFTERNOON
OR TONIGHT UNLESS IT IS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY!

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Happy Valentine's Day to Me!

You dis-integrate my differential,

You Dislocate my focus,
My heartbeat goes up like an exponential,
Whenever you cross my locus.
Without you sets are Null and Void,
Would you be my Cardioid?

Anonymous

Don't know what a cardioid is? CLICK HERE!
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Finally a Snow Day Coming! But a blizzard?

CATS TUESDAY is beneath this post.
From NOAA's Winter Storm Warning for northeastern Vermont for tomorrow: 

THE EXPECTED LOW TRACK AND INFLUX OF ATLANTIC MOISTURE IS NEARLY
IDEAL FOR MAJOR SNOW ACCUMULATIONS ACROSS VERMONT AND NORTHERN NEW
YORK. SNOW AMOUNTS ARE EXPECTED TO RANGE FROM 6 TO 12 INCHES IN
THE ST. LAWRENCE VALLEY...12 TO 18 INCHES IN THE NORTHERN
ADIRONDACKS...12 TO 20 INCHES IN THE CHAMPLAIN VALLEY...AND 1 TO 2
FEET ACROSS CENTRAL AND EASTERN VERMONT.

That's me: Eastern Vermont!!

It is now Tuesday night, 10PM, and now I am worried. I am hearing talk on New England Cable News and at NOAA of blizzard. The last blizzard I lived through was awful: no power, water or heat for a week and I ended up with the Red Cross and FEMA.

This afternoon while driving to the college I noticed that all the roadside snow had been pushed way off into the fields in order to make room for new snow. That is always an ominous sign. In the past when that has happened, there was always a huge snow.

I got home from the college and my principal was on the phone within ten minutes: the superintendent has cancelled tomorrow's classes. I had to call three people on the snow tree but my phone suddenly broke! I fixed the phone, made my calls, returned another phone message, and have been scanning all the weather reports. The cats are fighting badly. The people calling me back are also talking blizzard.

10PM:
Now I see on NOAA that my part of the county is expected to have 30 inches of snow by 10PM tomorrow. Two feet six inches! 76.2 centimeters! And the snow won't end until sometime Thursday.

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Cats Tuesday: My Mouse

Today is a photographic essay.
Since I work on Tuesday nights, I won't be able to visit your posts until late tonight.
Have a wonderful day!

Mouse, orphaned at 3 weeks.

The Amazing Leaping Mouse

Mouse is very tempermental but is happy here.

Mouse is now full grown.

Mouse had to be shaved this winter.
Here, she is glowering at me after biting me while
I was singing the Messiah with my headphones on.
I was in shock!

Mouse and Buddy

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Another year without a Valentine

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Emotional Intelligence

clipped from: webhome.idirect.com

I was just lent the audiobook Social Intelligence by Daniel Goleman who wrote extensively about emotional intelligence. Looking over this list (from ClipMarks), I see that I'm doing pretty well!

The Ten Habits of Emotionally Intelligent People
Copyright 1999 Steve Hein, The EQ Institute - May be copied for educational uses.

High EQ people:
1. Label their feelings, rather than labeling people or situations. "I feel impatient."
vs "This is ridiculous."

"I feel hurt and bitter".
vs. "You are an insensitive jerk."

"I feel afraid."
vs. "You are driving like a idiot."

2. Distinguish between thoughts and feelings.
Thoughts: I feel like...& I feel as if.... & I feel that
Feelings: I feel: (feeling word)

3. Take responsibility for their feelings. "I feel jealous." vs. "You are making me jealous."

4. Use their feelings to help them make decisions. "How will I feel if I do this?" "How will I feel if I don't"

5. Show respect for other people's feelings. They ask "How will you feel if I do this?" "How will you feel if I don't."

6. Feel energized, not angry. They use what others call "anger" to help them feel energized to take productive action.

7. Validate other people's feelings. They show empathy, understanding, and acceptance of other people's feelings.

8. Practice getting a positive value from their negative emotions. They ask themselves: "How do I feel?" and "What would help me feel better?" They ask others "How do you feel?" and "What would help you feel better?"

9. Don't advise, command, control, criticize, judge or lecture to others. They realize it doesn't feel good to be on the receiving end of such behavior, so they avoid it.

10. Avoid people who invalidate them, or don't respect their feelings. As much as possible, they choose to associate only with other people with high EQ.

Vista? Uh Oh!

Windows Vista Upgrade Decision Flowchart

I have already heard pretty bad stuff: from colleagues and now from my kids who ignored my advice and went to the Dark Side. Macs expensive? I never had to buy a new printer, drivers, or pricey software upgrades just to get a new OS. And my OS works!

Click on this and you will be taken to the web site (in a new window)
so that you can see it large and printable.

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To love at all is to be vulnerable . . .

This is my smiling father in 2003 at Union House Nursing Home in Glover, VT.

Daddy was an enigma: a withdrawn and emotionally distant intellectual, mathematician, physicist, and engineer. His childhood scarred him so badly that he was unable to maintain contact with his own children and we have all suffered greatly. Yet he is still my hero and probably always will be.

Named after my father, I never felt I was able to be the person he wanted me to be. In the end, ironically, when he was trapped in his body and brain with Lewy Body Dementia, I felt that I met his expectations. I cared not what trapped him: I finally was able to spend time with him. I spent every evening with him. We watched the news or Antiques Roadshow. We talked and I read books to him. I would leave when it was time for him to go to bed. On Sundays I spent many afternoons with him eating in the dining room. They were wonderful times for me. I finally felt useful and important to him. Best of all, Daddy never was confused about who I was. The nursing home was my social life and my church was my support.

The books we read were important to us. We covered the ancient history of the British Isles, the history of ∏, a history of e, and finally, a history of trigonometry. We read at least two of Eli Maor's books. In each book that we read I carefully wrote the date of when we finished them.

In Maor's book on trigonometry I read that Descartes's designation of the x-axis as horizontal and the y-axis as vertical in the coordinate plane was entirely arbitrary. I misunderstood what was meant by that and disputed the arbitrariness of it. Daddy agreed with me. I found Maor's publisher and began a short e-mail correspondence with him. Maor and I never discussed my dispute about the Cartesian plane (I would never admit to Maor that I thought that he, a true mathematician, could be wrong!). We spoke of my father and my young students and mathematics education. (Maor was not wrong, of course. I was wrong in the way that I read his statement.)

Christmas 2003 was the most beautiful of my life. Two of my children, Amelia and Andrew, were able to be with me for Christmas. The Christmas Eve service was held at the Glover church. The church is next door to Union House. I asked permission to take my father to Christmas Eve service, the nurses dressed him appropriately for the walk in the cold, clear night and off the four of us went.

The short walk was ice. It was dangerous for him to be out walking on it. But with me on one side, my tall and strong Andrew on the other and Amelia in the back, we kept him safe and secure. He was able to walk up the steps. The sanctuary was already packed and many of the congregation knew as soon as they saw us that this was my family that they had never seen. I was so proud and so happy that we were together. Daddy sat between me and his grandchildren.

I was concerned that he might become confused and anxious with the crowd of people and with the music. But he never was scared. He recognized every hymn and sang every one. I cried with happiness during the whole service. I had given my father a Christmas in which he participated and which touched his heart.

At the end of the service, the flame of the Christ candle is passed from person to person throughout the whole congregation. As we light our neighbor's candles in the darkened sanctuary we sing Silent Night, Holy Night until every single candle is lit. Daddy accepted his flame from Amelia and he then passed it on to me. He held his candle steady, despite his Parkinson's shaking.

After the service we made our way through the throng. The congregation was wonderful as they parted for us so that we could pass through them without Daddy being crushed. They helped us down the stairs and past the ice in front of the church. They understood the importance of this night for this small broken family.

I have never experienced such a holy Christmas.

When Daddy died in 2004 my life unraveled in many different and strange ways. He is no longer here to help me as I struggle to put it back together.

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To love at all . . .

One of my favorite quotations from C. S. Lewis. I was reminded of it in another blog today:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

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Photo Hunters: Broken

Click to see larger on flicker. It will open in a new window.

Folks in the Vermont woods used the woods to store their trash. It was cheaper to pile up old farm equipment and household trash out there then to haul it off. There were no dumps long ago anyhow, so there was no where to take it.

I have found two such dumps on my property. One, near my spring-fed well, was for household trash. We have found medicine bottles from the 19th century there and other fascinating objects. The metal objects are often difficult to identify because of oxidation. The other dump, where this plow blade was found, has a very big old saw that I may never get out because it is so large. Two old milk cans that my daughter and I have brought back to the house were also there.

This plow blade was detached from the plow, which is still up there. I am not a country girl, only a girl that loves the country passionately and visualizes life here one hundred years ago through a romantic lens. I think this plow was used by horses. There is land across the road that used to be a hay field before the beaver moved in approximately 30 years ago and drowned the land. That is the only area here that could have been farmed because of the mountainous terrain.

Thank you for visiting, have a wonderful week, happy blogging, and I love VT!

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Peeing on Electric Fences

Any boy can find an electric fence here in the Kingdom.

T, our classroom para, does morning meetings in my homeroom because he knows what he is doing in morning meetings. Today was Book Thursday. We go around the circle talking about books we are reading. But T's discussion stopped the show: peeing on electric fences. He described how to do this, as written in the book he was reading: Harris and Me by Gary Paulsen. All six of the boys' eyes lit up. What a great idea! As I envisioned all six of my male charges electrocuted in the snow, I spoke up: "Well, I don't know how exciting that would be. After all, when my father had an electric fence for the cows, he hooked it up to an old car battery. That can't be too dangerous."

But B, 10 years old like all the boys, interrupted. "Oh no no, it's bad! It hurts!" So obviously we had some personal experience here. The other boys' faces lit up even more. They all exchanged wide eyed glances. I tried again and asked T, "What happened to Paulsen? How badly injured was he?" T, father of two boys, watching the reactions of the boys, was laughing so hard he barely heard me. But he described how the boys in the book were hurt. They could not walk normally for a week. "Oh man, that's so cool," was whispered in awe all around the circle.

No, not all around the circle. The three 10 year old girls, sitting near me, all of us females together, were looking at me, slowly shaking their heads, rolling their eyes. They all have brothers. They seemed to be saying there was nothing I could do to stop this conversation. It was difficult for them to suffer this male silliness but they were patient. I whispered to them, "Why do they do this?" They all three silently raised their eyebrows. Who can understand the boys? Who wants to?

I asked the boys, "Why do you do this?" Then they all began roaring with laughter, doubled over. They began to impersonate John Wayne of all people! Who would think that in 2007 ten-year-old boys would even know who John Wayne is? You could tell that they couldn't wait to get out of school today and try this thing out.

I thought I would end the conversation and said, "OK. If any of you come to school walking funny, I'll know what you did." That sent them out of control as they began to walk like cowboys, imitating John Wayne, roaring with laughter. Only ten-year-old boys have a laugh that can both scare you and fill your heart with joy.

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