Settling into a Seminary Schedule

All of my seminary classes are up and running, and it's hard for me to remember that we've only been in session for a few days.  I'm at that stage of the semester where I go back to course shells several times a day, just to make sure I haven't missed anything that's due this week.  I haven't settled into the rhythm of those classes yet.

I've had a few moments where I've thought, oh my goodness, what have I gotten myself into--how will I ever get all of this done?  But I know that I will get it all done.  I won't have much free time, but that's O.K.

Yesterday, I had two ENGL 100 classes with an in-class writing day.  I got a book read for my Missional Church class while they were writing.  It will be that kind of term, with me snagging every scrap of spare time so that I get everything done, and so that I have some time for the other events I have planned, like Quilt Camp.

At the back of my mind is fear of illness, both my own and illness in loved ones.  But if that happens, I'll remember that I have options.  I feel fortunate that I am not in my first year of seminary.  I know a bit more about how it all works, and I have the good will of my professors.  I likely always had that good will, but it was harder for me to know/trust that fact when I was in my first year.

Let me shift my writing time to getting a sermon pulled together for tomorrow.  I want to get a rough draft done before heading out for brunch.  We're going to the house of my mom's cousin near Charlotte and then back this afternoon.  It will be one of the last times that I schedule a Saturday like this one--until December, that is.

It's good to remember when I feel overwhelmed, that this schedule is only for a term.  It's good to remember that it's good to get these last required seminary classes completed when they're in a modality that works for me.

Composition Class and Observing Trees

Yesterday, we had a great session in my English 101 class.  

We spent the first 20 minutes outside, walking and stopping to observe 3 trees.  I gave them an observation form to fill out, with the focus being on the three trees:

--Where is it? Could you create directions so that others of us could find it?

--Describe the leaves/needles:

--Describe the bark, the trunk, the branches, the ground around the tree:

--How much taller than you is the tree?

--Feel free to take pictures.

It seemed to go well.  Some of my students seemed a bit perfunctory in their approach, but most fully entered into the assignment.  It was more hot and humid than I would have liked, but that experience will make a great contrast to later in the term.

Students will choose one tree to monitor.  We will do a few more excursions through the semester to see how the tree changes.  We will write about it.  We will see if we can write clear instructions so that the rest of us can find the tree.  We will write about our history with trees and nature and people who write about nature.  The research essay will compare the different ways of talking about trees (children's book, TED talk, science paper, and a work they choose for themselves).

This assignment is rooted (see what I did there?) in my discontent of last year.  I thought I had good ideas for English 101, ideas that had worked before, but they no longer worked.  Or they worked, but they seemed incredibly boring.  I couldn't answer the question, "Why are we even doing this?"  My students, most of them, were so disengaged that they didn't even ask the question.

Is it really important, this observing of trees?  I have no idea.  But it's something different for me, and it does train students in good writing practices.  In our time of rapid climate change, I could make the argument that observing the world around us and preserving those memories is more important than writing about a social change we'd like to see; if I never read another paper about why pot should be legalized, it will be too soon.  My hope is that they will have a chance to develop analytical skills, and I think this research paper approach is better than the ones I've tried before (and if I end up being disappointed, that won't be a surprise--the research paper is the bane of my English teacher existence). 

Yesterday worked--it gives me hope for the rest of my ideas.

Texts and Teaching

Last night, I ordered desk copies of the Norton Anthology of American Literature.  My department chair loaned me hers, but it's an 8th edition, and we're now up to the 11th edition.  When I first looked at my chair's copy, I thought it was odd that it didn't include much from the 21st century.  Now I understand--it was published in 2012 or so.  (Update:  it's actually the 6th edition, with a 2002 copyright date)

I am thinking about different approaches to the nonfiction writing class that I'll teach next term.  Here's the course description from the catalog:  "This is a writing-intensive course that provides students with a foundation for composition in various nonfiction genres. The course includes nonfiction genres such as personal essays, memoirs, travel writing, biographical profiles, blogs, user guides, grant proposals, case studies, and infographics. Students will plan, create, workshop, and revise nonfiction documents and effectively learn to incorporate the foundations of storytelling into nonfiction writing in consideration of their purpose, audience, medium, and genre."

It's rare in my teaching life that I've had this level of control.  I've rarely been able to choose textbooks--I've felt lucky when I had a choice between three.  I understand why, from an administration stand point.  Less choice means an easier time for other parts of campus:  the bookstore, the folks who pay attention to accreditation, and even perhaps the folks in admissions.

I'm trying not to feel sad about how long it has taken to have the kind of academic job that I dreamed of having when I first started grad school.  I'm trying to remind myself of how much opportunity I've had in my jobs before this one, opportunities I might not have had if I had been in a more traditional school.  For example, I've taught a lot of creative writing classes, even though I don't have the academic degrees that would let me do that at traditional schools.

I was comparing spring schedules with a colleague yesterday, and she asked about my creative writing background.  I said that my Ph.D. was in British Literature, but my publications have been mostly creative writing.  And as I look back on what I've been writing, I'm struck by how much of my writing is the kind of writing I'll be teaching.

I am leaning towards having a text for my English 102 students.  At Spartanburg Methodist College, students pay a flat fee that covers all of their textbooks.  The fee doesn't change, even if I don't assign a text.  When I taught the class a year ago, it was fun at first finding the texts.  Then it got a bit exhausting.  So I ordered some exam copies when I was ordering the American Lit anthologies.

In some ways, this part of the process is one of my favorite parts of teaching:  dreaming about what might be possible, thinking about practical approaches.  I'm trying to savor it while I have it. 

Peach Chutney and Poems

I don't have as much time for writing this morning--I spent some of my writing time making a peach chutney for dinner tonight.  

I am remembering the first time I made a chutney--there was a recipe for a complete Indian meal in Mollie Katzen's The Enchanted Broccoli Forest Cookbook, and I tried the whole thing.  It was a revelation, the way different flavors combined in a way I had never tasted and would never have thought to put together.  It was long ago, and we didn't have Indian restaurants in Knoxville, Tennessee where I lived.  The most exotic food we had was Chinese, and it wasn't exactly authentic.

This morning's chutney making has led to an interesting poem that I'm in the process of writing:  peaches that cling, a woman who has dropped her youngest off at college, the passing of the seasons, the growing up of children.  It may be done, but there may be more, so I'll let it rest and see.

I am amazed:  two solid poem ideas in two days.  I have spent much of the summer wondering if I can even call myself a poet anymore.  I have written down a line or two each week, but that hardly makes me a poet.

Here is the first stanza of this morning's poem:

Her last child dropped off for the first
week of college, she returns to peaches
past their prime and pork chops at their pull
date. She chops the onions for chutney
and lets the tears come.

Let me lace up my walking shoes and let this poem continue to percolate.

The Happiness of My English Major Heart

Yesterday was a day that made my English major heart very happy.  I began with a great class teaching ways to write an introduction to my English 101 class at 9.  Yesterday our writing center opened for the semester, but it's the beginning of the term, so no one came in to help.  I brought a book with me, and I was happy for the chance to read a chunk of it.

It's a book for my seminary class called "The Rest of the Story:  Parables and Parallels."  We're reading Robert Alter's The Art of Biblical Narrative, which is more literary analysis than anything else, the old-fashioned kind, a deep dive into a text--in this case, the text is the Bible.  As I was reading, I thought about how long it had been since I read a book that was such straight ahead literary criticism.

After class, my department chair stopped by to talk to me about what kind of creative writing I do. I gave my usual answer (in brief: poetry now, because it’s short, but I used to write short stories and novels). The question was actually a warm up to what kind of creative writing classes I’d be comfortable teaching but what she wanted to know was whether or not I could teach creative nonfiction. I said yes, of course. Later I looked up the course description, and as I hoped, it’s a catch all description for all the types of writing that don’t fit other places (like blogging!). I felt thrilled and even skipped a bit on my way to the printer.

Later my chair said, “I still have questions for you.” I made sure to go to her office before she left, and she asked me about my experience teaching literature. Long story short, she wants me to teach an American Lit survey class, the second half, which is the half I like better. Hurrah!

She said, “This way, with the creative nonfiction class and the American Lit class, you can get to know some of our English majors and upper class students.” From what she said, it sounds like the rest of my schedule will be 102 classes.

When I accepted the offer of a lectureship, I thought it would be mostly writing classes, mostly first year Composition classes, and maybe if I was lucky, I'd get an English 102 course.  My schedule for Fall has been two English 101 classes and three English 100 classes--again, I thought it was a harbinger of what the year would bring.

The thought of a literature focused spring term would have been enough to make my English major heart happy, but seminary class last night gave me one last gift.  We did a guided exercise in the class that meets by way of Zoom every Monday, "Stories of Power," which is different than the one that is having us read the Alter text.  One of the professors put a Bruegel painting on the screen, without telling us the title.  She asked those of us who knew what it was not to ruin the surprise.  

We talked in detail about the painting, and when she revealed the title, "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus," we talked about the myth.  She asked who knew the story, and I waited before I raised my hand.  Could it really be possible that no one knew the myth of Icarus?

Then we talked about the two poems that reference the painting, the William Carlos Williams poem, "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus," and the poem by W. H. Auden, "Musee des Beaux Arts."  We did a very close analysis of the Auden poem, which was such a treat.  I'm used to being the one teaching it, not the one absorbing it.  It's a very different experience--but both to teach it and to be a student are such joys.

I even got an idea for a poem of my own to write, a poem told from the perspective of the sister of Icarus.  Here are the first lines:

My father made creations
out of whatever he had on hand:
scraps from the lumberyard,
spare parts, wax, feathers.

I look forward to seeing how this poem develops--one more treat for my English major heart.

How Quickly We Go from Waxing to Waning, from Flourishing to Fading

Today I go for a walk again, but unlike last week, I won't have the company of the moon, at least not the grandeur of the moon that we had last week.    We had clear skies, which we don't always have, and I had my cell phone, so I could attempt pictures.  

I don't have the best phone, so I can't take the best pictures, as was evident, when I took pictures of the moon when it was a few days past full (and the full moon pictures aren't that great either--not sure how to get rid of the reflection underneath the moon):

This line came to me:  "How quickly we go from waxing to waning."  I thought about the trees, which are beginning to look a bit bedraggled, even as they are preparing themselves for their autumnal regalia, and this bit came to me:  from flourishing to fading.  I liked the way the whole line went together:  How quickly we go from waxing to waning, from flourishing to fading. If I could come up with a 2 syllable word that also starts with an f and means flourishing, that would be better, I know, but I haven't yet.

I snapped some additional pictures to go with it, and I was happy with how the snowball bushes came through, even in the pre-dawn light.

I've been trying to make that line into a poem.  It came to me on the morning after the Democratic Convention, but I'm in no mood to write a political poem.  It seems much better as a poem about a woman at the far edge of midlife (the edge that is closer to old age), and yet, I don't really feel like exploring that either, at least not yet.  It could be your basic nature poem, but the world has so many of those, and I'm not sure I can contribute a new angle--although that writing prompt appeals to me:  write a nature poem that says something about the passing of the seasons and the phase of the moon, but in a brand new way.

So I've written it down, and we'll see if more lines come forth to join it.  Maybe it's time to return to my abandoned lines document and see if that approach jiggles something loose out of my brain.

A Week of Good Walks, Good Books, Good Food

Here we are, at the end of week 2 of my onground teaching, the end of week 1 of my online teaching, and the day before seminary classes start.  And the work of being a Synod Appointed Minister goes on.  Let me collect a few snippets I don't want to forget.

--I have had such beautiful morning walks.   

I do wonder if I will miss seeing autumn leaves as they change colors.  Maybe I'll take two walks a day!  I don't want to give up the early morning ones, because I know that the best way for me to exercise is to get it done first thing in the morning, before the events of the day take over.

--On Friday, two of my students were talking with each other about how surprised they are that writing is coming easily.  This overheard conversation was at the end of an unstructured class with time to write and after two weeks of a variety of pre-writing exercises.  One of them talked about the exercise with a table full of objects that I described in this blog post.  He said, "There was some serious ju ju in those things on the table.  I wrote for 15 minutes about a mayonnaise packet!"  Hurrah!

--I've been enjoying my very early morning walks.  I do wonder if I will miss seeing autumn leaves as they change colors.

--Yesterday I went to the farmer's market in Mill's River, and I was surprised by how many trees are turning.  But if you look at the bigger picture, you only see green.  There is a larger lesson here.

--I made cupcakes for the community picnic.  I no longer have a muffin tin, but I did have some cupcake liners.  I did a bit of researching and decided to try using 3-5 paper liners in a sturdier pan.  And it worked!  I made a chocolate batter for the cupcakes (recipe here).

--I am almost out of powdered sugar, so I needed something different to top them.  I made a caramel glaze from a Smitten Kitchen recipe.  It was so easy!  I was surprised that I had the 1 cup of cream.  I added 1/2 C. brown sugar, 1 T. syrup and brought it to 210-215 degrees, which I measured with the instant read thermometer.  Then I added 1 T. of vanilla, stirred again, and put a pool on top of each cupcake.

--The community picnic was amazing, with such a diversity of dishes.  I was happy with the selections that had plenty of beans and veggies.  I ate the most wonderful cantaloupe and the not quite as wonderful watermelon.  I ate two full plates--worth every calorie!

--Even more nourishing was the chance to catch up with neighbors, some of whom are here infrequently.

--I ended the day as it began:  with baking.  I need pumpkin bread for my sermon today, so that's what I made.  I felt a bit tired and grumpy, but glad to get it done.

--A friend and I sent photos of what we're reading.  Here's the book I'm most excited about:

It's the same author who wrote The Fate of Rome: Climate, Disease, and the End of an Empire, which was one of the most riveting academic books I've ever read.  

The weather was beautiful, and so I took my glass of wine and went out to read on the deck.  Late summer, low humidity, a book on plagues, and a glass of wine--perfection!

--But this book, even though it has a 1998 copyright date, also fed my soul this week:

Soon my reading time will be devoted to seminary work, so I cherished last night's reading even more.

Our New Roof Which We Hope Will Be the Last Roof

It has been a good week, although it has had more stress than usual:  not the stress you might have been expecting me to mention, the stress of having a lot going on and needing to juggle it all.  No, it's been the stress of having a roof installed.  I'll spoil the suspense.  This story ends well, with a roof installed as it was promised to us:

New Roof at Dusk

Of course, we were told the roof would be installed on Tuesday, August 20.  August 20 came and went with no sign of the roofing crew.  We also were missing the signed contract, which we signed digitally on the devices of the sales team, which never showed up in our e-mail inboxes.

By Wednesday morning, my spouse and I were both incredibly anxious.  I had this vision of the old roof being ripped off, the new roof installed, and a bill for double or triple what had been on the contract.  I know it's easy to take digital signatures and put them on a new document  All sorts of nightmare scenarios kept me from sleeping.  As I walked up the steps to my office, I thought about how long it had been since I felt this level of anxiety, the kind that made me feel almost wobbly.  I made some calls, and within an hour, we had the contract.  

But we still didn't have roofers.  They didn't show up on Wednesday, and they didn't show up on Thursday.  The materials to do the roof were sitting in the driveway, but no roofers.  We began to wonder if this was some sort of odd scam that doesn't get much national attention.

Happily, by Friday the roofers appeared, and they came after my spouse's morning doctor's appointment.

Unhappily, we have our community picnic today, so by yesterday, our neighbors on either side were home.  Those houses are vacation houses, and our neighbors aren't there often.  I felt bad that our roofing project was going on and bad that it wasn't supposed to be this way.  So I apologized, and both neighbors were gracious.  One even gave me some of his extra peaches!

The roof shingles are called Arctic Blue, and I can't quite get a picture of the roof that captures the blues and greys and blacks.  So I grabbed a piece of a shingle on the ground to try to capture it:

We have a very easy roof, and we predicted that the roofing project would take one day.  We were right.  By the time the sun was setting, we signed the form that said everything had been installed properly, and we were happy.  But honestly, how would I know?  My spouse, who has more experience with home repair, was happy and said it was installed properly, so I'm happy.  And we have warranties, and a company that's been in business a long time, so if something happens, we should be covered.  We have been told that the roof should last 50 years, unlike the super duper metal roof that had a 100 year warranty.  It's rather sobering to realize that if the roof does last 50 years, it will likely outlast each one of us.

We still have the trailer that serves as a dumpster parked in the driveway.  I am not paying the rest of what we owe on our roof until the trailer is removed.  I am hopeful I will not have to make that stand.

first morning with the new roof

We still have a thousand projects before the home renovation is complete, but the biggest projects are done:  new windows, new doors, new roof, new HVAC system, remodeled/mostly new kitchen, remodeled/mostly new bathrooms.  Last night, as we waited for the roofers to be finished, I looked up our first two houses online.  We owned those houses in the mid-1990's.  I wouldn't have recognized them, so thoroughly have they been remodeled.  The outsides look the same, but the insides are so different.  I imagine our house's owner from 30 years ago would feel the same.

In Which I Stay Awake and Watch the Democratic National Convention on Closing Night

Look at me, up at midnight, like a real grown up.  I usually blog in the early hours of the morning, but since I'm up at midnight, tomorrow's schedule might be a bit off.

I came home from work, and we ate a very early dinner, as we have been doing since I started going to Spartanburg Methodist College every day.  Then we watched a rerun of a PBS show about southern food, and I started drifting off in my chair.  My spouse convinced me to just go to bed.

So, was I asleep at 5 or at 6?  Somewhere in there, and I really did think I might sleep through the night.  I woke up at 8:30 to check on whether or not we had heard from the roofing company, who has gotten behind in their schedule.  Will they be here tomorrow?  We shall see.

And then I got sucked into the Democratic National Convention.  I usually don't watch conventions or State of the Union speeches or these days, election night coverage.  I figure I'll catch the highlights later.  But the energy with this convention has been so captivating that I wanted to see Harris' speech for myself--and to see if Beyonce might be a surprise guest.

NPR says that the acceptance speech was one of the shortest in history, the twelfth shortest, at 38 minutes.  I might have made it even shorter, frankly, with less circling back to Trump.  Be done with the man--take us to the future.  But I also understand that he's the opponent, so maybe it was wise to address what he will likely do if elected.

I also wanted to see what she was wearing.  I thought the black suit was a bit somber, and I didn't like the floppy tie/bow at the neck.  I like the brighter colored suits she's worn, with those great necklaces that I've seen in pictures.  But who am I to judge?  These days, my own attire is a mix of frumpy and dowdy.  

It is 72 days or so until the election.  What a strange election year this has been.

But regular life goes on with work in the morning.  Happily tomorrow is a writing workshop day, where students will be working on their papers, and I'll be available if they need me.  I won't need to present a brilliant lecture.  But I need to get some sleep, so let me sign off.

Random Objects and the Writing Process

We are in week 2 of my classes that I teach at Spartanburg Methodist College, and each day, we've done some pre-writing towards their first piece of writing that they'll turn in for a grade.  That assignment is to tell me something essential about themselves, and we've done some standard approaches, like making a list.

I wanted to do something a bit more creative, so I adapted a successful idea I used as a retreat leader.  I bought in a box of all sorts of objects, from things found in nature like stones and feathers to stuff I had made to random things I picked up.  I laid them all out on a table, and I had students pick one:

First I had them describe the object.  Then we did freewriting for five minutes.  The goal was to keep writing and to follow their thoughts wherever they led, even if they seemed to have nothing to do with the object.  I told them that I would not be reading this writing, although I would be walking around the room to make sure that everyone was writing.  They could write by hand or write on laptops/tablets.

After the writing, I had them read silently, underlining anything that was interesting or surprising or had potential.  Then we put all the objects on the table, and everyone chose a different object.

We did the freewriting again.  And then, because it didn't take as much time as I expected, I had them write about what object they would have chosen if they could have had any object from their own experience.  I granted them magical powers, so even if the object was at their grandmother's house, they could write about that.

And then at the end, I had them write for a daily writing grade, an analysis of this experience.  Most of them said they enjoyed it.  Were they being truthful?  I suspect they were.  It's unusual, and even if it doesn't lead to writing they will use later, it was a fun experiment and better than some of the instruction can be boring.

I feel like it went well.  We talked about how this process could be useful if they felt stuck, or how it could be useful to get to memories that weren't right at the surface.  When I used it at a retreat, we talked about the memories generated and then we talked about how the objects and the memories might get us to a place where we were more receptive to God.  I didn't include the God angle in my Composition classes, because I don't want to be too preachy--last week I had them make a list of things that were wonderful about themselves, and then I had them imagine what God would say about them, if God was making the list.  Even though I am at a Methodist school, I don't want to introduce God talk too often and risk being off putting, particularly since my approach to spirituality might clash with how they have been raised.  Better to introduce spiritual elements gently and gradually.

Students were engaged and writing, and that, for me, is the definition of a successful experiment.

Interstitial Seasonette between Summer and Fall

A week from now, my seminary classes will be underway.  I feel like we're in a small season between two larger seasons:  the classes that I teach have started, while the classes that I'm taking have yet to start.  Let me take a few notes to capture this small season, a seasonette, if you will.

 --This morning, I looked up the word interstitial, which led to me looking up the definition to interstice, just to be sure I was using it correctly in the title for this blog post (I am):  "an intervening space, especially a very small one."

--Yesterday afternoon, I got back from Spartanburg, and my spouse and I headed over to Burning Blush Brewery for a neighborhood social gathering.  It was lovely, with perfect weather, yummy food and drink, and great company.  In some ways, it was the last gathering of the summer, although in some ways, summer is gone.  Back in June, we had much bigger turn outs for our brewery gatherings.  It may say something about the locations, but it may also be that people's schedules are filling up as we head into fall.

--I did not stay up for the rising of the super moon last night.  I'm hoping to receive some moon magic as I walk before dawn this morning.

--Yesterday during my pre-dawn walk I saw a fox hop up a short wall a few houses away from me.  I stopped for a minute, just to make sure it wasn't a bear cub and felt relief when I saw its long tail.

--As I have done my dark morning walks, I am startled by my shadow at least once every walk.  I am even more startled to realize that I have a bear shaped shadow.  I would like to put this detail into a poem, but the surrounding poem has not revealed itself to me.

--I played with a poem yesterday, about nuclear winter and the Farmer's Almanac.  I like these lines I created, but again, the surrounding poem has not revealed itself to me:

I think of the Farmers’ Almanac
with seasons and moons named
after natural elements,
berries or hawthorne or hunger

--If all goes well today, our new roof should be installed by sunset.  Fingers crossed!

--I got my first paycheck as a one year lecturer, and it's the only paycheck where health insurance expenses aren't taken out.  Suddenly all the work I've been doing on course design seems worth it.

--I continue to notice which leaves have changed color and which have not.  This week, I've noticed leaves blowing across highways.  I am constantly thinking, what month are we in?  Some days it's hot and muggy, but the nights are cool.  The streetlight in the dark distance reminds me of summer at my grandmother's, back in the 1970's before AC took over, when we wouldn't close the curtains at night because we wanted the cool night air to come in the open window.  Everywhere I look, I see trees about to burst into a non-green color.

--If I didn't need to be in Spartanburg today, I'd bake pumpkin bread to go with our squash casserole and corn on the cob that we'll eat for dinner.

Summer Harvest Week-end

I've had a good week-end which was grounded in the happiness of summer produce. On Saturday, I went to the farmer's market.  I was on a quest for tomatoes from the one farmer whose tomatoes have never let me down and Mills River corn.  The farmer had a $15 basket of blemished tomatoes for canning, and I thought that some of them weren't so blemished that they couldn't be eaten.  

I also found a pair of farmer dudes (young, hip, male) who had pumpkins for sale.  When I said I wanted to buy one, one of the farmer dudes asked me if I also wanted a pumpkin plant.  They looked beautiful and healthy, but my yard is not conducive to growing vegetable plants.  Last year, I put the autumnal pumpkins by the back yard fence line, where they rotted and one of them produced seedlings.  I had hopes, but the seedlings didn't flourish.  Similarly, I have a tomato plant from a seedling that I planted in May in a sunny slice of the side yard (dappled sun, but sun nonetheless).  That plant has grown tall--and continues growing taller even now--but has yet to produce a tomato.

Happily, there are farmers old and young who will provide:

When I got home from the farmer's market, we sorted the tomatoes and began "processing" them.  We don't have canning equipment, so we made a basic tomato sauce that can be used as a base for stews and chili.  We store the sauce in freezer bags in the freezer.  It's the one time of year that I wish we had a stand alone freezer.

On Sunday, I made a casserole out of the summer squash.  I steamed them and put them in the bottom of a rectangular glass pan.  I made a custard out of eggs and milk and poured it over the veggies.  I sprinkled some cheddar cheese over it--yum.

When we got back from church, we made homemade pizza, and while I waited for the dough to rise, I ate some casserole right out of the oven.  It was close enough to what my grandmother made that it made me happy.

I also made my lunches for the week:  lentils, barley, and tomatoes, with balsamic vinegar.  Some weeks I add feta, but this week, I'll go a bit lighter.  I also portioned out my baby carrots into 5 sandwich bags that I use over and over again. 

I love this summer harvest time, and I don't feel the same sorrow that I have in the past.  I live in a place where I am surrounded by apple orchards and pumpkins that grow in the ground.  I look forward to autumn harvests too, which tempers my sorrow as summer fades.

First Week Class Activities

It's been a good first week of classes.  Because I may forget later, let me talk about what I did in the actual classroom during the first week.

Day 1

It's hard for me to leave the time honored practice of going over the syllabus.  I don't read the syllabus, but I do point to some policies.  More important, I talk about assignments and my approach to writing and writing classes.  In my younger years, I thought that I did this so that if students thought that my approach wasn't for them, they had time during drop add week to go to a different class.  Now I think that it's the rare student who has enough self-knowledge to make that decision--or the rare student who realizes that it could be different in a different class.

I gave out colored paper and had them write two truths and a lie about themselves.  I had a plan for how to use them on Day 2.  I had them write while I was passing out the syllabi.  Yes, I print out the syllabi for the first day of class.  I'm old school:  I don't trust that the technology will work, and I believe there's something to be said for interacting with paper, not staring at a screen.

We ended the class with writing.  I had them write three paragraphs, one that told me about themselves as a student, and then as a writer/creator, and then as a reader.  These paragraphs might be the basis for more formal writing later, or it may only be useful as an introduction. 

Day 2

I saved the bulk of the icebreaker/getting to know you stuff for this day.

We began with the lies and truths on the colored paper.  I had them stand if the statement applied to them.  We didn't know who had written what, which was the lie and which was the truth.  And because I was reading them, I could censor any problematic statements (but there were none).

We then played opening day Bingo.  I gave them a sheet of paper that was a grid with qualities (I'll list them below).  They had to move around the room, talking to students, and they could use each student only once.  That worked better than I thought; they seemed to enjoy walking around the room getting to know each other.  We talked about what we had learned from this exercise (nobody does yoga, for example, or how one plays Dungeons and Dragons).

Because the activities didn't take as long as I thought they would, I had them turn the paper over.  I had them make a list of everything that was fabulous about them.  Most people had a very short list, so I said, "Come up with a list of twenty things that are fabulous about you."  Many of them expressed disbelief that they could come up with twenty, but they tried.

I also had them make a list of what they valued in a friend or a partner.  I hoped it might spur them to think about what they took for granted in themselves and what made them valuable.

We then did a brief guided meditation.  If God was making this list, what would God say was valuable about you?  If God was here in the room, talking to you, what would God say?  I had them close their eyes for a minute or two, and then when they opened their eyes, to write.

I knew that for some of them, channeling the voice of God would feel weird.  We talked about the value of using their imagination in unconventional ways.  We talked a bit about theology; I told them about my Foundations of Preaching teacher who told us that most people had never heard that God loves them, even if they've gone to church every week.  I told them that if they channeled a negative voice, then they were probably hearing another voice, not God's voice, and I/we talked about whether or not God really does talk to us through a guided meditation.  Is it not just our brains talking to us?

And then, again, we ended the class with writing:  one paragraph that told what this past week of school had taught/revealed about themselves and one paragraph that talked about what they learned about their community.  It's a way for me to take attendance, it gets them writing, and it might be useful for their first graded assignment.

The first week of fall semester usually has a vibrant energy, but this past week was unusually vibrant.  I hope it continues.

---

Bingo Card Categories/Squares

Plays a musical instrument 

Has green eyes           

Has a sister   

Has travelled outside of the U.S.

Majoring in Business

Knows how to do yoga           

Has played football  

Knows how to sew

Has lived in more than one state     

Has lived and/or worked in a space with a fish tank           

Has participated in a performance 

Has worked in a fast food restaurant

Has baked bread or cookies

Knows how to play Chess    

Knows how to knit     

Has played Dungeons and Dragons

 

Friday Fragments: Sketching an Olive Tree and Other Nuggets from Week 1 of Fall Term

I'm not sure I have a single focus blog post in me today.  Let me record a few observations from the past week, some fragments that will point to the whole.

--I went to the dermatologist yesterday for my yearly inspection.  Last year I had two skin cancers and lots of spots that needed to be zapped with liquid nitrogen.  This year, no skin cancers and several spots to be zapped and a wart removed.  The weird spot on my arm seems to be some kind of insect bite or sting that left a scar.

--I made a sketch of an olive tree.  It's delighted me, and I hesitate to add color to it, for fear that I'll mess it up.

--I am happy remembering our anniversary dinner.  We thought about going out, but with the money we would spend going out, we could get the kind of ingredients that we don't usually buy for ourselves, like filet mignon and scallops.  So that's what we did.  And we bought better wine and prosecco than we usually buy, because we weren't driving.  It was a treat of an evening.

--It's been a good week of teaching.  So far, my students have put devices, earbuds, and headphones away when I’ve asked. They’ve seemed good natured and been responsive. I love the first week of fall term best for just this very reason. The first week of spring term can find students tired, depressed, unreasonable.

--So far, the drive has not been bad.  But I can already tell that it's tiring in ways that will be draining.  Happily, there will be weeks when I don't have to drive this way (Labor Day, Fall Break, professional development).

--I have been counting calories and keeping a food journal for two weeks, and so far, I'm happy with that process.  I've lost somewhere between 2 and 4 pounds.  You might ask why I can't be more precise.  I can't read the numbers on our old-fashioned scale with precision.  I've bought other scales, digital scales, hoping for precision, only to have them break within months of purchase.  I can live with imprecision. 

--I am going to keep walking before I head to school each day.  It's easy now, when the morning is the cool of the day and the sun is close to rising.  I have a back up plan for later, when it's colder and darker.  But let me not get ahead of myself.

The Roof as Anniversary Gift

Today I am tired, but not because of teaching; my second day teaching (the first day of MWF classes) went well, and I continue to be hopeful based on yesterday's classes.  In the fall especially, everyone is still so enthusiastic and hopeful, which isn't always the case when classes resume in January.

No, this morning I am tired because we were up late for me, up late talking to the roof salesmen (gender intentional) in our living room.  We invited them to visit; they didn't show up randomly.  I now know much more than I want to know about roofing materials, about how today's roofing materials aren't like yesteryear's roofing materials, about the state of my own roof.

We did not really need to spend time being convinced that the roof needs to be replaced at some point.  Moss grows on it, after all.  We did not really need to spend much time on the ways that the roof they were selling is better than other options; my spouse has had his eye on this company for years.

I wanted to leap ahead--tell us your best price, and let's get on with the paperwork.  But no, we heard about the difference between the metal roofs that others will sell us and what the salesmen had to offer.  We heard about the materials that will be under every roof installed.  They meet the very strict building codes of Miami-Dade county, which is what first attracted my spouse's attention, years/decades ago.  We may be the only people in Western North Carolina who could be swayed by that fact, but probably not.  Many South Floridians have migrated here.

Finally we got to the price part of the presentation--we said yes.  It's a good deal, and it can be completed before winter.  Our new roof comes with many warranties, and the company will likely be around to take care of the roof, should we need them to do so.  We could wait a year or two or three, but we know that construction expenses are going up, and we don't expect that trajectory to reverse.

Perhaps most importantly, if we do the roof, we've got the major home improvement projects done.  We have the money now, so why wait?

At the end of the evening, I turned to my spouse and said, "Happy anniversary, baby."  It's not a traditional gift, but it's one that suits us.

Report from Day One of Classes

I am feeling optimistic this morning.  My first day of classes went well, which makes me feel like maybe it will all be O.K.  Of course, it's easy to feel optimistic early on, at least for me.  Let me count the ways that this week has gone well:

--I taught two classes yesterday, and I liked the energy in each one.  

--I asked my students to put devices, headphones, and earbuds away, and they did.  But what impressed me even more is that they left them put away until I told them it was O.K. to use them again.  I do realize that this fact should not be such a big deal, but after last year, when I had one student who adamantly refused to keep her devices put away and student after student who couldn't leave their devices alone, it is a big, big deal to me.

--I am working at a school that has the most responsive IT department ever, and they are effective too.  I had a problem with my computer telling me that I didn't have the permissions needed to access Word and Excel, even though I had them last school year.  Unlike other places I have worked, I didn't have to wait for days to get a fix.  Half an hour later, the tech had fixed it, and I didn't even need to restart the computer.

--My commute to campus has been surprisingly easy:  no road construction that caused interstate traffic to come to a stop, fairly easy traffic.  I zipped right down and back.  

--I am getting incredible gas mileage, a bit better than last school year.  It's not so improved that I think that something is broken in my car's reporting system:  I don't expect to be stranded at some point when my car runs out of gas.

--My schedule has slightly improved.  I looked at my syllabus and realized I had given myself too many office hours, so I adjusted that aspect.  We had a last minute change to our Writing Center schedule which reduced our needing to staff the writing center (which was after the last minute change that gave us additional hours and made me a bit despairing).

--I am not profoundly sore today the way that I was a year ago.  A year ago, I assumed my achiness was a normal side effect from being on my feet teaching.  Maybe I am getting a bit stronger!  Or maybe my shoes are better!  Regardless, it's great to have a glimmer that maybe not all is decay and decrepitude as I head into this school year.

--This morning I'm going to try getting my walk in before I leave.  I had thought that my schedule meant that I would have to walk when I get home, but I felt anxious about that idea.  I have always been most successful with exercise when I can get it done in the morning before the rest of the day takes over.

Onward to day two of classes!

The Semester Begins with Convocation

Yesterday at Spartanburg Methodist College, we had opening Convocation.  Unlike convocation at my undergraduate school, yesterday's convocation was for new students. Our president invited students to think ahead to graduation, which seems many years away, and is, but will be here soon, when they will reflect back to this opening day.

There we sat, the faculty in our robes, on a stage, as we will be when they graduate.  Convocation and Graduation bracket the undergraduate journey at this school, and I was happy to be a part.  We had inspirational speeches and prayers and we sang the Alma Mater.

Then I went back to my office and snapped this picture before putting all of the rented finery back in the bag to be returned to the company that must make very good money renting all this regalia:

I couldn't get the kind of distance it would have taken to show the full regalia, and I felt weird asking anyone to take my picture.  This one will suffice.

There was a moment when I tried to remember the last time that I wore my academic regalia.  It must have been at a graduation for City College, were I would have attended as the Director of Education, or  maybe it was even later, when I was the Campus Director.  I spent 5 minutes looking through past blog posts, trying to determine exact dates, but it doesn't really matter.

I am happy to be part of a campus that observes these traditions.  After the ceremony, we went over to the student services part of the campus, where tables were set up under the huge oak trees.  We had a plentiful dinner:  shredded pork or chicken with barbecue sauce, chicken patties, green beans, baked beans, cole slaw, rolls, and a variety of cookies.  

I know that I make a lot out of being at a school that goes to the time and effort to feed us, but it's because I know how much time and effort it takes--and money.  It's nice to be at a school that's expanding, not shrinking.  And it's really nice to be a faculty member--I'm not planning events or stressing over whether or not everything is in place or having other people bark at me.  

Let me bring this writing to a close so that I can get a walk in before going down the mountain to meet with my classes for the first day.  All day yesterday people asked if I was ready, and I said yes.  The first day is no problem.  It's that sloggy time in the middle that takes a lot more prep.

Poetry Writing and Lentil Cooking on One Last Leisurely Morning

Today is a leisurely morning, followed by a trip to Spartanburg to be at school for a 3 p.m. opening convocation.  It's been a long, long time since I've been at a school that even has an opening convocation, so I have no idea what to expect.  Spartanburg Methodist classes start tomorrow.

It's been a good week-end, but a bit busier than usual, so I'm happy to have some time this morning to get some chores done.  I have a load of laundry in the dryer and a pot of lentils and barley on the stove, enough for lunch each day this week.

I've been a bit distracted from my usual writing tasks because I discovered that two of my seminary course shells have opened:  Stories of Power and The Rest of the Story: Parables & Parallels.  These two classes are the last ones I need to finish my track in theology and the arts in my MDiv; in fact, I get an additional graduate certificate by taking the approach that I have taken.

I did a quick look at the syllabus for each class to make sure that I haven't bitten off more than I want to chew in this very busy semester, and happily, they each look doable.  I still have time to get the textbooks, now that I know what they are.  Seminary classes start two weeks from today.

My sleep schedule has been a bit disrupted these last few days, and I'm not sure what that's about.  I'm not particularly worried, and right now, I don't have assignments that are due or papers to grade.  So this morning, I decided to start writing a poem and see where it led.  Last week, in this blog post, I wrote, "I did get a poem idea, when I said that men with chainsaws have a different idea of forest management than I do. I thought this might be an interesting idea to have Noah's wife contemplate. Or maybe I'll do several approaches and see which one I like best. Hmmm."

Last week, I began this way:

A man with a chainsaw has a different
Idea of forest management.
I leave the big trees where they fall.
Let them become condos for the creatures
Before rotting away into mulch.

This morning, I decided to try it as a Noah's wife poem, and that came much more easily, which I did not expect.  Here's the opening of this morning's poem.

Noah’s wife sends the tree service
away. She understands men with chainsaws.
They see the world differently,
every tree reduced to a trunk.

I'm still working on both of them, but the Noah's wife version gave me much more joy this morning than the other approach did last week.

Now it's time to put on my different shoes and head out for a walk before the rest of the week's schedule comes crashing down on my head.

Long Views and Short Views and Rip Van Winkle

I am thinking of Rip Van Winkle, thinking about a modern version--what if you had fallen into a deep sleep on July 11, and you woke up today?  So much has changed, especially in the U.S. political scene on a national level.  On July 11, we wouldn't have known who the Republican Vice President candidate would be, and on July 11, most of us would have assumed that we already knew who the Democratic candidates would be.

I have been watching the progress of the leaves on the trees.  Some trees seem ready to burst into an autumnal color, which you would miss if you weren't looking or if you just took took a quick look.  At a quick glance, the dominant color of our trees on the mountain is a deep, gorgeous green.  But here and there, a branch has already turned.

When we get to January, I wonder if we will look back and wonder at what we missed.  Ten years out, what will we see that we can't see now?

Time is short, and soon we will get in the car to head across the mountains to Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  At the top of the mountain, the trees are still mostly green.  I've kept an eye open for the tree that was first to turn into a blazing red last year, but I still haven't seen it.  In some ways, at the top of the mountain, we get a long view, but I rarely see any vista that changes my thoughts, thoughts which revolve around the beauty of the mountains. 

This morning, my thoughts swirl around my sermon, about bread and Jesus and carbo loading and racing and the 20,000 + people who ran the Olympic marathon course last night, in between the men's race and the women's race.  It's a long view of sorts, this sermon writing view, but also very near sighted.

Tourniquets and Other Training

This shouldn't feel like such a whirlwind of a week.  I feel a bit worried that if 2 intense days feels like a whirlwind, what will it be when the other elements of my fall schedule go into play?  Let me record a few more bits of the week that I haven't captured yet:

--Yesterday I got to campus early for a campus prayer walk, which I wrote about in this post on my theology blog.

--I got some information about health insurance and promptly spiraled into a bit of a funk.  I never feel like I have enough information to make a good decision, and I'm not sure how it works with health care providers in a different state (some of mine seem to be in network, while others aren't, even though it's all Blue Cross, Blue Shield).  I had forgotten how much it costs to ensure an employee and a spouse.  But I do have health, vision, and dental, which seems rarer and rarer to have all three.

--I was introduced as new faculty at our faculty meeting, and in my introduction that I gave to the person introducing me, I included that I was in my last year of an MDiv degree with a focus of theology and the arts.  It's a focus that seems to intrigue people.  In the last 48 hours, I've met people who are doing a wide variety of creative stuff.

--One of our training sessions was a "Stop the Bleed" first aid kind of session.  At first it seemed odd for a faculty training session, but sadly, in these times we live in, it may be more relevant than many topics.  I went to it and learned the proper way to pack a wound and how to use a tourniquet.  In my Girl Scout days, we were told that the tourniquet would be a last ditch effort, but if you're in a place where paramedics will be arriving and hospitals are nearby, a tourniquet doesn't pose as much threat to a limb.  We had interesting lunch conversation about growing up watching MacGyver and all the ways that Girl Scouts taught us strange skills, like making a tourniquet with sticks you find in the yard.

--Last night, we watched the last 45 hours of the movie Moonstruck.  What a gem of a movie.  It was a great way to end a week that left me inspired, exhausted, fed, and worn out.

Teacher Training with Tropical Storm

I didn't write yesterday because I needed to be on the road to Spartanburg for a day of meetings, workshops, and meals.  It wasn't raining at my house in the North Carolina mountains, but I knew that there was a tropical storm somewhere near the coast of South Carolina.  

I zipped right down the mountain with no rain and no traffic.  About 10 miles outside of Spartanburg, I saw dark bands of clouds off to the northeast, but the rain didn't start in earnest until later in the morning.  And by earnest, I mean a relenting rain, with occasional wind, the kind of rain that makes an umbrella useless, the kind of rain that made me glad to be stuck in my office waiting for it to be time to go to the next event.  By the time I drove home, the rain had stopped, and the light was lovely; I drove through lavender tinted fog/mist at one point and wished I could capture it in a photo.

I got a lot done in yesterday's downtime:  syllabi printed, course shells updated, having IT teach my computer how to communicate with the new printer.  The new printer not only copies but also staples!!!!!  I spent the last year stapling every handout, and I had forgotten how much time it takes--I am so grateful for a machine that staples.

We had good meals, which provided good opportunities to meet people.  I have been at more schools that I want to remember that provided no food at all, even as we were expected to stay for a day of meetings and workshops that lasted all day, so I am impressed/happy with a school that not only provides food, but real meals.

I am trying not to feel sad, remembering good schools that collapsed for reasons that still aren't clear to me; I'm wrong--they collapsed because of corporate greed that came in and eviscerated the school to the point of collapse.  It's such a breath of fresh air to feel gratitude:  my own gratitude, the gratitude of administrators--and it makes me feel sad thinking about all the times there has been no gratitude. 

Our new faculty welcome dinner had wine served in glasses, another gratitude point.  It was a delightful meal, which impressed me because we had all been on campus since breakfast.

I have a one year teaching position, and I'm trying not to feel sad about that, since all sorts of developments may happen in the coming year.  For several years now, I've been trying to enjoy the moment, wherever I am, while not knowing exactly where I'm heading.  After all, no matter how settled we think we are, we can't be sure what will happen in the coming year/decade; it's all temporary.  

I love this point of the school year, where I have plans and hopes, and I'm not staring at a sea of students who are staring at their phones.  Let me bring this blog post to a close so that I can get on with the pre-semester work of the teacher:  meetings and paperwork and dreaming of/hoping for a good first week.  

Last Day of Summer

In many ways, today is the last day of summer for me.  I've turned in my summer grades for the 2 online classes I taught.  Tomorrow I report to Spartanburg Methodist College for workshops and meetings before classes start on Tuesday, August 13.

Both because it's been a good summer and because my fall will be intense, I feel a bit sad to see summer go.  I've had time to volunteer at Lutheridge, which has been a delight.  I've had time to read books for pleasure, always one of my favorite things to do.  I've done a lot of sewing.

I haven't travelled much, and I haven't taken a traditional vacation, and that's fine with me.  Many of the people I've known who have taken vacations and travelled have come home sick.  I am so happy to have the kind of mountain home where most people travel for their summer vacations.  I am still enjoying a summer that isn't so hot.

I've seen lots of family and friends, in a variety of settings.  I went to Arkansas for a wedding at a beautiful state park.  It was good to get back to the campus of the Lutheran seminary in Columbia before it moves, good to see the spiritual direction certificate friends in that setting that shaped us all.  We had our first house guests in this house for Music Week, and it worked out really well--hurrah!  There have been walks and creative times and working on service projects together.

I feel refreshed and energized--and I'm hoping that feeling doesn't evaporate right away.  I know that I will be more enthusiastic about the writing projects I've designed than my students will be.  Hopefully I can keep my enthusiasm up.  No, let me dream bigger.  Let my students be more enthusiastic than I expect them to be.

I've got a heavy teaching load, but it's a subject that I've been teaching for a long, long time, and it hasn't changed much.  If I was teaching Contemporary Politics, I'd need to be changing lesson plans on a daily basis--which would be fun and invigorating in a very different way.

Let me go on one last summer walk.  I'm already seeing changing leaves, but it's much more subtle now than it will be later.

Transfiguring Atoms

 On this day in 1945, the world was about to change in dramatic ways that we likely still don't fully comprehend. On this day in 1945, the first nuclear bomb was used in war.

The effects of that bomb obliterated much of Hiroshima--and vaporized some of it. There were reports of people fused into pavement and glass--or just vanished, with a trace remaining at the pavement. The reports of the survivors who walked miles in search of help or water are grim. And many of those survivors would die of the effects of radiation in the coming years.

In a strange twist, today is also the Feast Day of the Transfiguration in Catholic, Anglican, and Orthodox churches, the day when Jesus went up the mountain with several disciples and becomes transfigured into a radiant being. Those of you who worship in Protestant churches may have celebrated this event just before Lent began, so you may not think of it as a summer kind of celebration. Pre-Reformation traditions often celebrated this day in conjunction with blessing the first harvest.

I find it an interesting conjunction, and of course, I've written a poem about it.


Ides of August


We long to be transfigured in the Holy Flame,
to harness atoms to do our will.
At the thought of what they attempt,
leaders and scientists tremble.
On the other side of the planet,
people vanish into the unforgettable fire,
wisps of cloth pressed into concrete,
the only sign that they existed.

We cling to the Ancient Lie
of the violence that can redeem
us. We purge and plunge whole
landscapes into the land of ash and smoke.
The sun rises over a steamy swamp
of decimated land and decapitated dreams.

Like Peter, we long to harness Holiness,
to build booths, to charge admission.
Christ turned into Carnival.
No need to do the hard, Christian work:
repairing community, loving the unloveable.
No, we seek redemption in the flame.

We pin our hopes on the nuclear
family, small units than can withstand the fission
of everyday stresses and detonating loss.
We cast away thousands of years of human
knowledge; we forget the wisdom of the pack.
We head for our hermitages in the hills,
hoping to be transfigured into hardy-stocked survivors.


Today is a good day to think about what distractions, atomic, cosmic, or otherwise, take our attention away from the true work. Today is a good day to think about mountaintop experiences and how we navigate our lives when we're not on the mountaintop. Today is also a good day to meditate on power and how we seek to harness it and how we use power once we have it.

Today is a good time to spend with the texts for the day, to carve out some time for quiet contemplation. Go here for readings, complete with links, so that you can read online, if that's easier.

Today is also a great day to celebrate the transfiguring possibility of power. After all, not all uses of power lead to destructive explosions. Some times, we find redemption.

Ministering with Peaches

I now have 1/8 bushel of peaches in a big bowl on my kitchen counter.  I began with 1/4 bushel yesterday, and after church, I invited anyone who wanted peaches to take some.  My spouse and I do love fresh peaches, but I knew there was no way we'd be eating that many peaches.  And yes, we could make peach preserves, but again, we don't really use much in the way of preserves throughout the year, and we don't have storage for jars and jars of preserved peaches.

How did I end up with so many peaches?  Back in the spring, I found out that one of the church's youth was selling peaches to support the high school band, so I casually mentioned that I would be happy to buy some peaches.  This was the week that they came in, so I arrived at church to discover exactly what I had bought.  They were waiting for me in the sacristy refrigerator.

Some days, I feel like I have fallen into a Norman Rockwell landscape.  But then I am reminded of all the ways that my church congregation faces 21st century issues, not the least of which is how to carry on with dwindling numbers.

Maybe ministering with peaches is the membership campaign of the future!  I am kidding, although there may be more to this idea than initially meets the eye.  Many of us are yearning for a different kind of life, the kind of life that Norman Rockwell captured in his paintings, where there are peaches for all who need them and safe spaces, like family and churches, to help us navigate the issues of the day (those issues were captured by Rockwell in different paintings).

Saturday Reading: A Different Take on the End of the Roman Empire

Late yesterday afternoon, the rains finally rolled in.  I had been expecting them; the air had been heavy with moisture all day, and clouds had blossomed but then rambled a different way.  In between my other duties, I had been keeping an eye on the tropical storm well to our south.

By the close of the day, my house in the North Carolina mountains was in the cone of uncertainty for Tropical Storm Debby.  Now, I'm not terribly worried, not about the storm.  The whole state of North Carolina is in the cone, with the possible exception of part of the Outer Banks.

My spouse went off for a nap, and I settled in to take advantage of a quiet house on a rainy afternoon by reading a book:  Kyle Harper's The Fate of Rome:  Climate, Disease, and the End of an Empire.  It's an academic book, but it reads like a thriller.  It was written and published before the Covid 19 pandemic, but it still feels informed by those events--a good reminder that the ravages of disease are not limited to any single disease.

I got it from the library expecting that only part of it would interest me.  The chapter on the Justinian Plague was so good that I went to the beginning, which gave interesting insight on the history of Rome.  I know the broad outlines of that history, but I didn't find it repetitive.

It was oddly peaceful, reading about the fall of Rome because of catastrophic plagues and watching the rain fall over my mountain homestead, while taking breaks to keep an eye on a potential hurricane.

There was a moment when I smiled at this view of myself reading for pleasure--and what do I choose?  A weighty tome about history and climate change and disease and the end of an empire.  Those who know me well would not be surprised.

Friday Fragments: Quilt Projects, Camp Projects, Home Projects

This morning, I've done my work out of order.  I've been doing grading, and now I can't remember ever having had anything worth blogging about.  Let me put down some assorted thoughts:

--At the end of spring Quilt Camp, I put together smaller pieces of fabric by size.  I had a vision of putting together a quilt of random pieces.  It's not exactly worked out that way, but I'm pleased with how it's going:

--I love having a small project to work on in the evening, but it's quickly becoming a large project.

--This morning, I woke up thinking that I should spend the next few weeks sewing together the Log Cabin squares that I spent much of 2023 assembling.  The picture below is from spring 2023:

Then I can have it ready to assemble and quilt at Quilt Camp in November.  Later today I'll put them on the bed to see how many I have.  I'm fairly sure I remember that I have enough for our queen size bed.

--We took the car in for an oil change yesterday, and came home not only with the oil changed, but also with bushings and a control arm for the steering and suspension.  We could have put off this repair for a few months, but when it fails, it will be "catastrophic," according to the mechanic.  Well, this is why we save money, I suppose.

--Today we go to pick up the last of the furniture that we bought a few weeks ago.  We went in to get a kitchen table, and we left with two new chairs--well, we left having ordered them in a fabric that we hope will complete the living room look.  I've been very pleased with the small kitchen table, which can be expanded when we have guests:

--Yesterday we ate a delicious meal at that table, with the window open, and gentle music playing.  We could hear the patter of rain, and it was so delightful, even as we were waiting for the summons to come back and get the car.

--Today is the last day of summer camp at Lutheridge.  I still have dreams of being a director of adult programming at a camp like Lutheridge.  I have memories of Lutheridge summers from years ago, where there was more programming for adults.  Could we ever go back to that?  There are lots of folks in work places where they can't get away for adult programming during the school year (like teachers).  It would be fun to offer Quilt Camp or Create in Me or Wild Women or any other number of programs in the summer.  From what I can tell, there is space for adults in terms of lodging in the summer.  In terms of program space, it would require some creative thinking.  I'm putting this idea here so that I remember it in the future.

--It seems like we just got started, having counselors arrive and then campers.  And now, it's done.  One more summer complete.

--We've had people at camp this week doing burly, lumberjack kind of things.  Some trees needed to be cut into pieces, like the one that fell down last week and took some power lines down with them.  One tree by the lake has been down for over a year, maybe even two or three.  Why cut it apart?

--I did get a poem idea, when I said that men with chainsaws have a different idea of forest management than I do.  I thought this might be an interesting idea to have Noah's wife contemplate.  Or maybe I'll do several approaches and see which one I like best.  Hmmm.