Small Joys in Late October

I am sure I will remember some of the bigger joys of October, like the Trail of Treats event on Tuesday night, the onground intensive in mid-October, the Crumley archives banquet, and a breakfast reunion with my mom's Lexington cousins.  Let me record some smaller joys that might be forgotten.

--My wrenched knee has mostly healed itself--just a twinge here or there.

--Our Spartanburg house had no hot water, and my spouse couldn't get the pilot light re-lit.  I called the gas company, who said they would send out a tech, and there would be no charge, if we were willing to wait the 5 days until the appointment.  Yesterday, the tech called and told us it would be a $184 charge.  We said yes, since having a different professional would probably be a similar charge.

Happily, the tech came, lit the pilot light, and told us it would be no charge.

Did the tech use a special tool?  No, just one of those lighters that people use with a fireplace or a grill.  Note to self:  buy one of those if the pilot light goes out again.

--Yesterday, my energy was really sputtering.  Happily, my afternoon Nonfiction class carried me through, with their enthusiasm for the writing instructions exercise that we did (very similar to the experience in this blog post, but with fellow students attempting to follow the instructions).  One of them said, "This is so much fun."  Hurrah!

--I am also inspired by how much good writing my students are creating in their daily writing exercises.

--When I took the trash to the bin yesterday, I got a streak of paint on my shorts--boo!  Happily, it's an older pair of shorts--not so old as to be house renovation shorts, but old enough that I wouldn't wear them during a retreat.

--I'm seeing news of lots of flooding in S. Florida, with historically high King Tides.  I am so happy not to own a house in a flood zone!

--I am often in the mood for evening Halloween-themed TV, but not in the mood for anything too scary or gory--which leaves very few choices.  Last night we discovered the Hotel Transylvania franchise--we watched #2, with a very cute baby that may or may not turn out to be a vampire.  It was delightful.

--Today we will stop by an apple orchard on our way to or from S'burg.  I need apples for tomorrow's Composition class, and I'm happy to have a compelling reason to go to a local orchard before they close for the season. 

First Overnight in the Fixer-Upper

When we bought this fixer-upper house in Spartanburg back in early May, we thought we would spend the summer renovating it and move a truck load of belongings down here to be ready for a fall semester with less commuting back and forth to Arden.  It's been a slower remodel than we expected.

Last night was our first overnight here.  Last week the new mattresses were delivered, and so we were able to spend the night last night, which I really wanted to do, because I volunteered to help with a Halloween event last night that was going to last until 8:30 or 9.

I was glad I was able to do that.  It was a fun event with tables and candy and most of us in costumes. 

Here's the English and Humanities table, with me on one end and my dean on the other and the English chair in the middle.

I was grateful that I only needed to drive across town where my spouse was watching the World Series on the TV we bought yesterday morning.  We bought a much smaller one than most people are buying, based on what the options are--what huge flatscreen televisions are the norm now!

We discovered that the light on the pole in the backyard does work.  We've been paying a separate $10 a month charge on our electric bill for "outdoor light"; I thought it was probably that light, but I wasn't sure.  Do we want to keep it?  It lights up the whole back yard, but also the back half of the house, even with blinds closed.

Because of the light, my spouse was able to see two deer come up from the small creek/wooded area up through the back yard.  I tried, but since I was sleeping, I wasn't fast enough.

I'm happy to report that the king size mattress gave me a good night's sleep--good for the first night in a new place.  And I'm ready to finish the quilt that will be on the bed full-time; I waited to finish the edges until I was sure it was big enough.

It will surprise few people who know me that I had made the quilt too big.  I took off a row of big squares from the side of the bed that you can see in the picture.

Soon I will go for a walk in the new-to-me neighborhood.  And later, instead of leaving 90 minutes early for my commute, I will only budget a 20 minute commute--a foretaste of what I hope will be the norm for my spring semester.

Lingering Light in Late Autumn

Last night was a perfect night for an outdoor gathering at one of our local breweries, Appalachian Mountain Brewery in Mills River.  We were there a month ago, and half of us spent a good part of the night squinting into the setting sun.  Last night, we sat at a different table and didn't have that problem.

We chose that brewery because they have a full kitchen.  Last night I had an amazing salad with steak on it, much better than last time's felafel.  Both times I got fries, and both times, they were amazing.

Driving home, the moon rose over the mountain range, full and huge.  Even if I had a different camera, I doubt I could have captured the full impact.

It's hard not to think about the end of Daylight Savings Time this week-end.  The weather may continue to be glorious, like it has been for much of October, but evening will come crashing down on us much earlier.  I don't always find that aspect of late autumn to be oppressive, but it might affect the planning of outdoor events.

When we have a good neighborhood gathering, like we did last night, I immediately want to plan a repeat event.  In part, last night's event was born out of that impulse.  In part, it was born out of my overextended brain and my inability to come up with anything different right now.

But why should I come up with something different?  We won't have these warm days much longer, at least not here in the mountains of North Carolina, and we won't have lingering light in the late afternoon much longer.

Abbey Autumnal: Two Poems

Here we are, the last week of October, which down here in the Carolina's should be beautiful.  For me, it will be a week of 2 Halloween events at work, which makes me so very happy.  There will be a neighborhood gathering at a local brewery.  

Of course, there will be much more mundane events.  On Wednesday, we find out if the fixer-upper house needs a new hot water heater or if it's a simple fix of lighting the pilot light.  Later in the week, there will be a Zoom call for the Quilt Camp leadership team.

It's also the last week of an election year, midterm elections, which may be monumental in terms of individual wins, but probably won't lead to the kinds of changes I would like to see.  Truth be told, I never have that kind of hope in elections anymore.

I've been trying to come up with something slightly different for my Creative Writing class tomorrow.  We've been doing autumnal themed activities, with teaching ideas that I've used in English 101 and 102.  Usually that would require no modification, but this year, half the class had me for 101 and/or 102.

So, I've added to past lesson plans, which has made them better.  But I also want to do something entirely different.  So tomorrow, we'll discuss works that are anti-autumn in some way, like this classic about decorative gourd season (which also lets us discuss profanity) and this one about the end of daylight savings time.  We'll also talk about using autumnal elements in surprising ways.

I'm going to use this poem as a model.  I wrote it long ago, after one of my annual autumn retreats to Mepkin Abbey.  

Autumn at the Abbey

I drove seven hundred miles from the tip
of Spanish speaking Florida to the Gullah drenched
lowcountry marsh.

I arose in the wee small hours of the morning
to drive up the spine of the state
with truckers and other insomniacs.

I saw the flaming
orange fields, the flickers
of light across the river.

I have eaten eggs from the chickens
raised by monks and been sprinkled
with holy water before bed.

I saw the baby Jesus
created from a
cornucopia of materials.

I harmonized with monks
and chanted my way through a quarter
of the Psalms.

I watched the monks at sunset
walking under Spanish moss draped
trees, ghosts from a different century.

---

I'm also going to include this poem, which I wrote when I wanted the poem to be more explicitly Halloween influenced.

All Hallows at the Abbey

I awoke very early to sing
lauds with the monks,
and then I set out for the river.

In the pre-sunrise mists that rose off the currents,
I would not have been surprised
to see a runaway slave.

In the afternoon, the fields flamed
orange and light winked
across the water.

I returned to the chapel to harmonize
with monks and chant
the Psalms that still speak to us.

As the sun sank, across the river, candles flickered
in carved pumpkins and costumed children participated
in a different ancient ritual.

As we walked to compline service, monks in white robes
walked under trees dripping with Spanish moss,
ghosts from a different century.

---

Will these ideas generate something new?  Stay tuned!

Hay Rides and Full Moons and Pumpkins

We have been to several autumn festivals at Faith Lutheran church, but yesterday was the first time I've taken part in the hayride.  Last night, as the full moon rose, and just before the sun sank at the horizon, a tractor pulled a low flatbed with hay bales around the back field of the church.  It was gorgeous, and I have no pictures, and I am fine with that.

It was so delightful that I went a second time, later.  We stopped to pick up some pumpkins out of the side field on the way back.  We had bought a lot because we advertised "Free pumpkins."  I was surprised by how many people didn't want one.

We had 8 varieties of chili for people to try, along with 2 kinds of cornbread and at least 10 dessert options.  Everyone was in a festive mood, and the weather was perfect.

The leaves are less glorious this year, but here and there, a tree is doing its full autumnal celebration.  Many trees have already lost all their leaves, and a good number of them are still green.  I'm happy to look up and see the leaf beauty in whatever form it offers. 

And now, off to celebrate the Reformation!   Worship begins at 10, and all are welcome.

Waning Days of October

Later today, we'll get in the car and head the other direction on I 26, up to Bristol.  You might say, "Wait, it's not Sunday."  No, it's not, but because today is Faith Lutheran's Chili Fest, we're going up today and spending the night in a hotel.  It's been a month of a lot of travel for me, and today is the last overnight trip.

Tomorrow is Reformation Sunday; a week from today is Halloween.  The World Series is underway, and my spouse who has been a baseball fan from childhood is more excited about this World Series than he's been in years, if not decades.  While I am enjoying these October days, I'm also keenly aware that my favorite season is zooming by.

Yesterday we went out into the bright October sunshine.  Were we going to an apple orchard?  No, we went to buy some desk chairs for the fixer-upper house.  I can't quite figure out when to do the bigger move, but in the coming weeks, we'll have a place to sit while we figure it out.

The natural gas company will come out on Wed. to relight the pilot light on the hot water heater.  If we need to replace it, a bigger move will be postponed.

In later years, when I wonder why I didn't do much writing, or why I didn't do more of my favorite autumnal activities in the fall of 2026, let me remember how much of my spare time and mental space has been consumed with this fixer-upper house.  Let me also remember the unanticipated joys of this semester; my classes have been going spectacularly well.

Internet Service, Voting, and Traffic Woes

It has been a busy few days, especially yesterday, but happily, we've gotten some important tasks done.  We should have a tech arriving at our fixer-upper house in Spartanburg to get our internet set up--which meant we spent an hour yesterday finding the Spectrum sales store, waiting for 10 minutes, and then going over our options and making a choice.

After doing that, we got in the car to head back to our home in Arden.  We sat in stopped traffic because of a lane closure due to bridge work.  It could have been much, much worse--on a different part of I 26 yesterday afternoon there was an hours-long closure after a wrong way crash that led to death and injury.  It all makes me glad that at some point soon, I won't be commuting quite as much.

We had planned to vote yesterday afternoon, and we decided to head over to our local library; all our early voting in my county is done at library branches.  If it was too crowded at the polls, I could still get some library books returned. Happily, I was able to get my library books picked up, check out my the latest Anne Patchett book that I put on hold back when it first came out, and we voted.

The voting was easy:  no lines, no ugly protests outside, no wait of any kind, equipment that seems state of the art, at least to me.  I had downloaded a sample ballot, which I filled out and brought with me, so I didn't need to spend time pondering my choices.

Once again, my writing time is short--off we go, for me to teach, and for my spouse to wait for the tech person to show up.  During my office hours, I'll try to get someone to come look at the hot water heater, which was working weeks ago, and is no longer--ah, the joys of a fixer-upper!

Winged Chariots and Writing Projects

It's that time again, when I feel various projects piling up; Andrew Marvell said it so much more eloquently, "But at my back I always hear / Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near."  Of course, the speaker is trying to woo a woman--or maybe just get sex.  I am trying to grade papers and write poems and send work out for possible publication and along the way, write a weekly sermon and finish work for my TEEM requirements.

So this morning, when my brain snapped awake just after 3, I gave myself stern instructions, "In the next three hours, you must make progress on either your sermon or your Jeremiah paper."

I decided that the Jeremiah paper needed to be done first, so I started a pot of coffee and settled in.  By now, I know that one of the secrets to a good writing morning is to do the writing before opening any internet portals, and I followed that formula this morning to great success:  1989 words, for an assignment that asks for 1000-1500 words.  I need to craft a conclusion, and I'm done.

I had some ideas when I started, and the writing flowed easily--the kind of joy I rarely experience with academic writing.  Of course, I didn't need to use many scholarly sources, so it was bound to be much easier, but that's not always a given.  It was also a joy to find my writing going in unanticipated and exciting directions--also, not always a given.  I was surprised, in good ways, and delighted.

Hopefully my sermon will also proceed similarly.  That writing, however, will have to wait until later--that chariot that will deliver me to Spartanburg will need to leave in two-ish hours, which means I need to get ready soon.

Teaching Confirmations and Affirmations

Yesterday afternoon, I went to downtown Spartanburg, to the business office of Hub City publishers, a group which also runs the charming, downtown bookstore.  We had the last meeting with a student who is doing a Capstone project.  We agreed that it's been a success.

It was neat to be in the office space of a small business, with stacks of books and packages waiting to be mailed.  It was good to remember that small businesses are still doing what they do, and even better that it's a business that supports readers and writers--and in Spartanburg.

As I walked in the perfect October afternoon weather, I thought about how Spartanburg reminds me of early 80's Asheville, and I mean that in the best possible way:  small businesses, people walking in safety from traffic, easy to navigate, plentiful parking which is free.  And did I mention the small businesses are varied and charming?

So far, it's been a good teaching week, both in terms of classes and students.  Some of them are students in my classes:  yesterday, one of my students was ablaze with happiness at having made progress on the novel-in-progress.  Some of the students are ones who came to me because of their own creative writing interests, and I was happy to be part of projects, like the Capstone project, or just a wise elder, reminding a student that one can still do creative writing, even if it's not a job, that we can't be sure of what will make us money and what won't and having a creative interest not influenced by monetizing potential might be a net positive.  It's also been past students:  a colleague told me of a student in her class who gave me credit for becoming a competent writer (and happily, my colleague says she's continuing to produce stellar writing).

I am usually happy to perk along, confident that what I am doing matters--but it's nice to have confirmation along the way.

Autumn Odes and Puzzles

We have been in a stretch of perfect autumnal weather:  chilly nights, clear days, before the time change so we still have plenty of time to enjoy this perfect October time.  As I drove down the Cumberland Highway on Saturday, I was struck by how many small towns had piled pumpkins around the "Welcome to ______ " signs.  Pumpkins and hay bales and perhaps a scarecrow that wouldn't scare a soul.

It's not the perfect leaf viewing season, however.  Yesterday I stood on the back deck and stared up at the trees, and I was startled to realize how thin the leaf canopy is.  Many trees dropped their leaves before attaining full autumnal glory--and many trees are still fairly green in leaf.

When we first moved to South Florida, I didn't realize how different the seasons would be.  I didn't miss winter much, and summers seemed similar to South Carolina, but every year I had a fierce yearning for fall.  One year we bought two puzzles, and I still remember the one with the autumnal picture.  It was a nineteenth century town with horses and wagons and a big dance happening in the center of the village.  The trees had the perfect assortment of autumnal leaves and pumpkins dotted the puzzle landscape.

We put that puzzle together in the fall of 2001, when the world felt so topsy-turvy.  It was soothing to put the puzzle together.  

 I was teaching the British literature survey class, and I had Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn" on my brain--those figures on the urn, forever frozen in whatever emotional moment they experienced right then.  I thought the puzzle offered a similar dynamic.

It's an interesting spiritual question that Keats poses:  is it better to be forever poised to kiss the beloved?  Is it better to live in the moment of anticipation, rather than having to deal with all the messy humanness that comes after the kiss, once we truly know our beloved?

And there are larger questions posed by both the urn and the poem:  how do we stay in the here and now?  How do we not get distracted by our sorrows?  How do we maintain our faith, in the face of enormous woes?  For me, during that autumn of 2001 that broke our hearts in so many ways, the answer came in the jigsaw puzzle.

I've never thought of jigsaw puzzles as spiritual practice or meditation aid.  Perhaps I should. 

As these thoughts swirled in my brain, a poem began to emerge.  It's now 25 years old, so the imagery of disaster might feel dated, not something I considered when I composed it.  Despite the dated reference to September 11, I think it holds up relatively well.

Ode on an American Puzzle


These people do not puzzle over how the pieces
of their lives fit together. They know their purpose,
always at the center of the picture.
They will never return home to unfinished
craft projects and unwashed dishes. They will celebrate
continuously at this harvest dance, the deepest
darks of night and winter always at arm’s
length, the leaves always brightly colored,
mounds of pumpkins waiting for transformation,
every woman and man matched, the children tended.

Perhaps that is why I like puzzles.
As buildings melt and planes explode, and even smaller tragedies
rip apart the pieces of a life, I find
a measured calm that even poetry cannot provide.
I sit at this table, free from existential mystery.
I know what picture will emerge as I piece
this project into one. I know that all the parts
have been provided. I know that they will connect.
What other aspect of my life can hope
to offer the same consolation?

An Easy Travel Day

Yesterday was a fairly easy travel day, a pleasant surprise.  I decided to go the way my phone directed me, which took me across I 40, the 2 lane part that's under construction.  It's much easier early in the morning going from east to west.  But I focused on breathing and staying focused on the patch of pavement ahead of me, not the drop off to my right.  I was glad I was in my small Prius.

I stopped along the way at an Artisan's Center in Berea, KY.  I had stopped on my way up, but I was trying to stay ahead of hurricane remnants, so I didn't linger.  Yesterday, there was an art festival on the back grounds, but the weather was cold and blustery, so once again, I didn't linger.

Last night we brought our plants inside because, we, too, are under a freeze warning.  I'll be interested to see if the basil bounces back; something (bugs? squirrels?) has been attacking them outside.  Of course, I'm not sure I want all 3 plants to bounce back because I don't use all the basil.  Usually I'm happy to just enjoy the sight of the plants, but less so when they're bedraggled, the way they have been recently.

I will spend some time today trying to get back into regular rhythms.  I haven't done much exercising in the past week.  I need to scale back my eating and go back to alcohol free days.  I also have some writing to do for these classes I just took.

But first, church!  Back across a different set of mountains, on a much chillier morning than last week.

The Long Drive Home from a TEEM Week

Soon I will put the last of my stuff in the car.  Sunrise comes later this much further north (at 7:57), so I'm not going to leave until 6:30 or 7.  Gone are the days when I would leave at 4 a.m.; driving that many hours in the dark is just too tiring.  Is this a sign of getting older or just a sign of being more cautious?  Part of it is wanting to linger in a lovely hotel room a bit longer, which is always balanced by knowing how much driving lies ahead and wanting to get that over with.

I've been in Indianapolis, taking the last required classes, another task done on the path to ordination in the Lutheran church (ELCA, the more progressive expression of the of Lutheranism in North America).  

We spent the first two days of the week studying Lutheran Liturgy, then a Wednesday workshop on Lutheran Polity, and we finished the week on Thursday and Friday studying Hebrew prophets, those prophets from the B.C.E. time period, the ones at the end of the Old Testament part of the Christian Bible.

I've studied those prophets before during an Old Testament class during my first year at Wesley Theological Seminary.  That class was asynchronous, and the material was not nearly as compelling as the last 2 days have been.  The history of the centuries before the Greek and Roman empires is much more clear to me now, and especially how we get from the time of David and Solomon to the Assyrian  and Babylonian exiles.

I came back to my hotel room on Thursday and made this Facebook post, which was just as true at the end of the day on Friday:  "Today and tomorrow, our TEEM group is doing a deep, scholarly dive into (B.C.E.) Hebrew prophets, a topic which seems very timely in ways I both did and did not expect."

I was impressed with various teaching techniques throughout the week.  During our Lutheran Liturgy class, Bishop Strickland had breaks where we sung, along with information about how we might use the songs in worship. Dr. Parker, our OT Prophets class instructor, had a variety of artifacts to show us or techniques (like using an imprinting device in clay) to show us how people wrote.  We worked in small groups for a break in lecturing, and that small group work will lead to papers we need to write.  For some of the prophets, we read the work out loud in a variety of ways, which made it more interesting to hear and understand.

I always learn a lot in classes that I take, both in subject matter and how to present the subject matter.  I go home with ideas for how to improve my own classrooms.

I've been with this group of classmates twice now, and my time with them is over, at least this time as a TEEM cohort.  It was a strange goodbye yesterday.  Any time of parting makes me think of all the other times of leaving, makes me melancholy and missing all the people who have passed through my life.

So maybe it's good to have a transition time of driving in the car, before hurling myself back into the rest of my life.  I do feel happy that I'm returning to regular life that is life giving, unlike pre-pandemic years when I would be returning to a toxic workplace and a boss bellowing about how I shouldn't leave ever again.  I know how lucky I am.

The Second Half of TEEM Week

Last night over dinner, my TEEM cohort exchanged notes over how tired we are.  This onground intensive is, indeed, intense.   We eat breakfast at the hotel, head over to the Synod office meeting space, and we're meeting from 8 until 4 or 5, depending on how long we took for lunch. Lunch is brought in, and we try to be back on task by 1 so that we can be done closer to 4:00.

Monday and Tuesday, we learned about Lutheran Liturgy, the way worship is structured. Yesterday was a 1 day workshop to teach us about Lutheran Polity, how the larger church operates--after a morning studying governing structure, we took a deep dive into church constitutions. We finish the week with Old Testament prophets.

I feel like I had more energy back in June, but let me remember that I only did the workshop and the last half of the week.  Plus, I wasn't in the middle of an onground teaching semester.

I've gotten good ideas for my sermon that I'll preach on Sunday, which happened in June too.  We've also had good worship this week, which has been nourishing.

I've been thinking about my past experiences with the onground intensive model, which has only been for the spiritual director certificate program.  I do wonder how the spiritual experiences compare with low residency MFA programs.

I love the idea of an intensive that blasts requirements out of the way in one week--but having said that, it's not my favorite way to learn.  I'm grateful to have had so many different kinds of educational opportunities throughout my life.  I also realize that my preferred way of learning:  onground, over 12-16 weeks, once or twice a week--it's not a way that can work for most people who are employed full-time, especially not older folks.

I'm also grateful that my current work life doesn't involve sitting at a desk all day, the way we've been doing this week or the way I did as an administrator.  Yes, we do try to move during breaks, but my step count at the end of 8 hour desk days is much lower than my regular teaching days.

I am grateful for so much as we head into the end of this week.  I am most grateful for all my jobs that allow me to be away so that I can be part of this educational experience and for my spouse, who is self-sufficient and holding down our 2 home fronts.

Relaxing Day, Intensive Day

Yesterday was the first day of the onground intensive for the TEEM program.  We'll spend the first two days of the week learning about Lutheran Liturgy, then a Wednesday workshop on Lutheran polity, and we'll finish with a class on Old Testament prophets.  We begin each day with worship/devotion time at 8, and we go until 4 or 5, depending on how much time we take to eat lunch that is brought in for us.

It's an intensive, not a relaxive, and the contrast with Sunday is huge.  Sunday was a restorative day.  I did a lot of sewing and a lot of reading, both for intensive week and for pleasure.  I had a video call with my old Florida quilting group and a phone call with my spouse.

I didn't do any church livestreaming, so it was somewhat strange yesterday to hear people refer to the Bible readings we would have been hearing on Sunday--not the readings, but the recognition that almost everyone else had gone to church before traveling.  It reminded me of how far I travel, and how rare it is to travel 8 hours by car these days.  Or maybe it's only rare in the circles in which I move.

I'm glad I had Sunday to recover from my travels on Saturday, but I'm not sure that yesterday's transition would have been any harder if I had gone with my original plan to drive from North Carolina to Indiana.  I'd have just gone from one kind of intensive to another.

I continue to be happy to have joined this program; I'm impressed with the talents of my cohort.  I feel a bit sad about how far away I live from all of them.  This is my last intensive week, and it's hard to imagine how our paths might cross in the future.

Of course, the past decade has taught me that much can change, so I'm keeping doors and options open.  Maybe we'll have yearly reunions.  Maybe we'll travel.  At the very least, I'm hoping we can continue to pray for each other.

Columbus Day, Oktoberfest, and a Poem

 Today is the 226th anniversary of Oktoberfest, a holiday which began as a city-wide celebration of the marriage of a royal couple. Raise a glass! I wish I liked beer more.

In an interesting juxtaposition of holidays, today is also the real Columbus Day and also the federal holiday. Oktoberfest and Christopher Columbus . . . surely a poem lurks there. Old world, new world, hmmmmm.

On this day in 1492, the 10 week Atlantic journey of Columbus and his crew ended when a sailor saw land.

Unfortunately, Columbus was looking for a shorter trade route, and since he didn't have a sense of how huge the planet was, he had set off on a voyage destined for failure, at least failure as he set the parameters. He had stumbled on a wealth of natural resources: tomatoes, corn, beans, not to mention lumber, vast continents of space which could absorb people fleeing from overcrowded Europe, minerals, astonishing soil . . . but Columbus never did find that trade route.

I have written many a blog post about these ideas:  my favorite one on spiritual implications is here, and for thoughts on Columbus and the creative life, go here.

I always wondered if Columbus felt a sense of failure, so years ago, I wrote this poem. The title refers to a poem by John Donne, "Good Friday, Riding Westward, 1613," which I was teaching at the time.  And yes, the title does suggest that I wrote the poem in 2001.  Columbus is not one of my touchstone historical figures, for all sorts of reasons, so I don't have a wealth of poems about him.

Columbus Day, 2001, Riding Westward


Christopher Columbus set sail in search of a swifter
trade route, an easier way to bring spice
back from the Far East. At what point
did he realize that he’d gone astray, that a whole
continent stood in his way?

Did he ever realize the value of his discovery?
I picture him grumbling. “These natives
are weaklings. I’ve never seen such a sickly
bunch.” I’m sure he never saw himself as the source
of the infection. Did he mourn the lack
of gold and spice? He had no idea that he’d found
an agricultural mother lode: beans, corn, and tomatoes.

How often do I sail upon these same waters?
Always yearning for the voyage I had planned,
not enjoying the trip I’m on. Always questing
for traditional treasures, never envisioning
the wealth before me, so simple is its disguise.

Safe in Indiana

I am sitting at a desk in the Drury Hotel in Carmel, Indiana, on the northern edge of Indianapolis.  I'm here for an onground intensive for the TEEM program, my current route to ordination.  If you've been following along all week, you know that I'm here a day early.

It's a long trip, which I make by car.  I like being able to arrive with all my stuff, and I really like not dealing with the hassles of airline travel.  For this trip, I was really happy to be able to change my travel plans with minimum hassle.

I'm glad I left early.  I got in my car yesterday at 6:40 a.m., and it was already raining.  The illuminated signs on the interstate that give information about road conditions told drivers of high wind warnings and advised us to be alert for debris on the roads.  As I made my way north and west, the rain continued, and there was already standing water on the road.

Happily, the rain wasn't heavy, and there wasn't much traffic on the roads with me.  I was able to check into the hotel with no problem, and there were plenty of luggage carts available.  I got unpacked and organized and headed down to dinner.

Before the TEEM program intensive in June, I had never heard of this hotel chain.  I am happy to return here again.  I love that they offer both breakfast and dinner.  The dinner menu changes, although I imagine there are standards.  When I was here in June, the taco/burrito bar was offered twice, which was fine with me.

Last night we had pulled pork, which was great because I had been craving barbecue.  It wasn't the burnt ends kind of experience I wanted, but it was good enough.  I got my third glass of wine, added the former pour to it, and headed back to my room with a very full glass.

Another plus to staying at this hotel is the 3 free drinks every evening.  It's not just wine, but also several kinds of beer, along with all sorts of mixed drinks.  It's an interesting business decision, and last night I was happy to partake.

I spent time reading a non-academic book as I sipped my wine.  On Tuesday, when I realized I'd be at the hotel an extra day, I got some regular fiction from the library, so last night, I started Kevin Wilson's Perfect Little World.  Earlier this year, I read Now Is Not the Time to Panic, so when I saw it in the stacks, I decided on another book of his.  So far, it's compelling.  I also got Lionel Shriver's The Mandibles, which I've read twice before.  It's an interesting look at a near-future dystopia, and I'd like to revisit it.  We'll see if this week is the week.

Today I plan to read more of Perfect Little World, along with academic reading for the coming week.  I brought my quilting project with me, so I also plan to do some sewing--my hope is that there will be something interesting on the cable stations on the big TV, but if not, there's plenty on my computer.

I'm sure Indianapolis offers many diversions, but I'm going to stay put and enjoy having time to focus on joys that I usually have to tuck in the margins of my other responsibilities.

Hurricane Remnants and Travel

Last June, when I left Indiana after the first TEEM onground intensive that I attended, I thought ahead to our next gathering in October, where I anticipated autumnal shifts with still-warm days.

I did not anticipate a hurricane affecting the weather that far inland.  But here we are.  I've changed travel plans, and instead of leaving on Sunday, I'm leaving in a few hours.  There's already a bit of rain here, but nothing like what is expected later this morning.

We are supposed to have record breaking warmth in the 80's in the early part of the week, and cooler temps by week's end.  I have packed a variety of clothes--lots of layers for my upper body, some with sleeves and some not, and shorts for my lower body which is odd-shaped and hard to fit for long pants in this time of my life.

This hurricane has turned out to be a normal-ish hurricane, not a monster that zoomed up several categories just before landfall--how refreshing!  It moved ashore as a category 2, very survivable for most structures--not a fun way to spend an evening, but likely not life threatening for many.

I am still glad I changed my travel plans.  I should be able to stay ahead of the storm remnants today, and it will be good to head into the week being better rested.

Hurricane Watching and Other Notes from This Week

I am hurricane watching, and you might ask why.  I will always keep a wary eye on any Gulf or Atlantic hurricanes--even before Hurricane Helene came to my neighborhood, I was this way.  This week-end, I'm headed to Indianapolis, and Hurricane Isaias is too.  I was going to drive on Sunday, but since the hotel could add Saturday night to my stay, I've decided to pack the car later today and leave tomorrow instead of Sunday.  

I will avoid much of the heavy weather (I hope), but there's no way to know what that weather would be on Sunday.  Maybe the remnants will park themselves over Kentucky and just produce random rain showers.  Maybe it will be a huge amount of water falling from the sky for all the midwest.  Maybe the system will scoot on out of the picture on Saturday.  Regardless of what happens, I hope to be in my hotel room, safe and secure.  I'm glad I thought to call the hotel on Tuesday and extend my reservation, just in case.  If the hurricane had fizzled, I could have canceled that day and kept my Sunday travel plans.  But I'm predicting no fizzle, so off I go tomorrow morning.

I'm taking sewing and books as if I'm staying for an extra month, not an extra day.  I'll have my laptop, and I'm hopeful I can do all sorts of writing throughout the week.

When I look back, I know I'm likely to remember this time of hurricane watching.  Let me also record some other events from early October that I want to remember:

--It's the time of year when it's time to do the HR training for not just one school, but both schools where I teach.  This year, it's been surreal to be doing the anti-sexual harassment and Title IX training against the backdrop of the frat house rape case at Cornell.

--I have continued to have such good teaching experiences.  At some point, I want to write a post about my increased use of small groups this semester.  Or maybe it's enough to note that I'm doing more, and I'm amazed at how well it's working.  A case in point:  for yesterday's Creative Writing class, I put the seven students into 2 groups.  I asked them what makes a good spooky/scary/Gothic story.  They had good conversations.  I had them each make a list of the top 5 elements.  Then I had them do the Build Your Own Spooky/Scary Story worksheet.  It went so well that I'm going to have my English 101 class do the same thing.

--I have also done a lot with setting up the classroom tables in stations.  In my Wednesday Nonfiction class, I wanted the students to see how smaller pieces of writing could be included in larger pieces of writing:  blog posts into books, Facebook lists into books, Twitter tweets into a book, teaching handouts into a book, recipes and restaurant reviews into memoir.  

Students moved from station to station, making notes, and then filling out a worksheet about insights they had.  I was impressed by how serious they were as they studied the artifacts.

When Jesus Plans Your Family Reunion

On Sunday, I went through my old files looking for a St. Francis poem that I thought I had written--but I was thinking of an Ash Wednesday poem.  While searching, I found an old manuscript of Jesus in the world poems, many of which I had forgotten writing.  

Because my time is short this morning, I'll post one of them here.  Let me make sure to mention that the people in this poem are not based on real friends and relations.  It is published for the first time here.

Reunion



We let Jesus plan our family reunion,
and we won’t be doing that again.

He searched through the stunted
branches of the family tree and invited
them all: Weird PopPop Walter, who went to war
and was never the same, Cousin Buddy
who married that poor little black girl,
Aunt Leona, who we never forgave
for stealing all of Mamaw’s silver.

And then Jesus went and invited strangers
to our feast. People we didn’t know
from Adam’s housecat. We’re lucky
they didn’t rob us blind.
Where Jesus thought all these people
would park, I don’t know.

We usually cater these events, we told
him that. But no, Jesus had to go and change
things. Price of admission, he informed us,
was that we had to bring our favorite food, enough to share.
How could I do that?
My favorite food was Mamaw’s sweet
potato pie, and no one’s made it since she died.
But one rainy day, with restless
children to entertain, I set
one to work peeling potatoes and taught
one the secrets of pie crust.
The smell of those pies baking made me weep
with missing her, which alarmed
the children. To distract them, I dug
out the old quilts she made, and we lost
the rest of the day to looking at photo albums.

Fired by insider information, the children pestered
everyone at the reunion, and we told each other stories
we hadn’t thought of in years. I hope my girl stopped
thinking of herself as fat and sees herself as sturdy
like her Great Aunt Lillian who did the plowing
herself after flu felled all the menfolks.

But the greatest miracle of all was the singing.
Descended from northern Europeans, we keep
our mouths shut to keep from freezing, but Jesus
got us to open up. Jesus built a big bonfire,
and we spent the night singing while the leftovers multiplied
to feed us again.

Jesus planned our family reunion,
and we might let him do it again.
Maybe in five years or so.

Purchases and Vaccinations: The Witch Hat Edition

Yesterday was an afternoon of purchases and vaccinations.  My witch hat (with a veil!) was the most fun:

My school will have a week of various Halloween activities in late October, and I had been thinking about a witch hat, the easiest costume.  I thought about making one--after all, I have a lot of fabric.  But after seeing the prices on Amazon, I ordered one for less than $10.00.

Our other afternoon purchase was much more expensive:  2 mattresses for our fixer-upper in Spartanburg.  We have bed frames arriving soon that won't need box springs, but we still needed mattresses.  So off we went to Mattress Firm, where we could test mattresses in Arden, buy them, and have them delivered in Spartanburg.

If you're thinking of mattresses of your youth that were much less expensive than today's mattresses, they still exist; the lowest end mattress was $295.  We bought more expensive mattresses, made by Sealy, firm, no memory foam.  They were still much cheaper than the high end mattresses at the front of the store.

Then we went to get our flu and Covid shots.  I often wait until later in October, but I've seen several articles that note that flu and Covid outbreaks are arriving earlier this year, so earlier shots are best, if possible.  October is a heavy travel month for me, and yesterday offered a good window--no evening plans and no Tuesday morning commitments, should the shots hit me harder than usual.

I'm happy to report that they did not hit me harder--just the usual soreness at the vaccination sites on my arms.

I spent the evening sewing strips of Halloween fabric together while watching the Ghostbusters movie with the females.  We think we had seen it before, but I had little memory of it.

This morning, I did more experiments with my witch hat and different lighting.  Here's one with less light:

And here's one with more light, which lets you see the veil, which is made of a cobwebby looking material:

I realize that future generations may see this witch hat as all that is wrong with our modern society of disposable things made half a planet away and sped on its way to me.  But I also know that I'll still be using it in spooky seasons 20-30 years from now, or for as long as I'm alive.

Week-end Update: Expected and Unexpected Joys

I have had a good week-end, good in ways both expected and unexpected.  

I began the week-end by driving down to Columbia, SC to meet up with my parents so we could go to the James R. Crumley Archive banquet together.  In past years, I had seen people post pictures of the banquet, and I always thought it sounded interesting, the kind of event I would be sure to attend if I lived nearby.

I've lived nearby for several years, but this was the first year I could go.  Past years had seminary classes, minister commitments, and of course, Hurricane Helene disruptions.  As I got ready to go, I realized that I wasn't really sure what to expect.  I wondered if there would be people I would know.  I was happily surprised to have such a good time, which I wrote about in this blog post. 

I knew that the week-end would have good family moments, and it did.  It was great to be with my parents.  We are all old enough that I feel the passage of time keenly, that each good time together might be the good last time together.

My maternal grandfather's family farm is in Lexington, SC, the county next to Columbia; a lot of relatives still live on the family farm and surrounding farms, although they no longer farm the way they once did.  On Saturday morning, we joined a group of them at Lizard's Thicket, a local restaurant, for late breakfast.  What a treat!  It was great to catch up with beloved second cousins, and great to meet folks who are newer to the area.  And I had an amazing breakfast with some of the best restaurant biscuits I've ever had.

We've talked about future reunions, and I hope that we can do it.  One of the unexpected sorrows of moving back to the Carolinas is that I don't get together with friends and family as often as I would like.  We're still somewhat spread out, and my work schedule makes it complicated in a way that it wouldn't be complicated if I was retired.

Yesterday we got back from church and settled in for our post-church sermon watching.  We made pizza.  I thought we were in for the night when my cousin called.  

It was a happy phone call.  He was passing through town after being in Utah at a conference, waiting for his family who was picking him up on their way to the beach.  I offered to come get him, and he said yes.  We were able to offer him pizza; I would have made a different meal if I had known he was coming, but he was happy.  We had a few hours to catch up, and he had time to take a walk around Lutheridge, which he was craving after a morning and afternoon traveling by plane.

I feel very lucky to be at this point in my life.  Many people don't make it this far, to their 60's.  And many people don't have as many loved ones, friends and family both, alive when they are in their 60's.  While I wish I had even more time with them, I'm grateful for the time we do have.

The Feast Day of Saint Francis for Creative Types--for All of Us

Today is the feast day of Saint Francis.  For those of you who want a more spiritual meditation, head to these posts on my theology blog, one without photos, and one with photos.  For those of you wondering why we should care about a medieval saint or for those of you wanting to celebrate his life with your creativity, read on.

Francis continues to speak to so many of us, and for so many reasons.  Let's look at the various reasons and how they might inspire us in our creative lives.

--Francis is most associated with love of animals, which may explain his enduring popularity.  Churches across the world will celebrate his feast day by having services where people are welcome to bring their pets for a blessing. 

In our art, how could you take something traditional, like a worship service, and subvert it?  I'm thinking of the short story told via PowerPoint slides in Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad.

Today is a good day to think about the role of pets in our lives and to think about how we feel about less cuddly animals.  The symbolic possibilities may seem obvious--how could we use animals in a less obvious way as symbols in our work?

--Francis has come to be associated with the environmental movement, in part because of his love of animals, in part because he liked to visit ruined parts of society.

Today is a good day to think about our planet, much of which is already ruined.  We might think about the fact that we're living in the Holocene Extinction, one of 5-7 times in our planet's history where we know we're losing species at a far faster, and perhaps catastrophic, rate.  How can our creative endeavors address the situation? 

--Francis came from a very wealthy family, a family he renounced in solidarity with society's poor and outcast.  He lived amongst the lepers, the lowest of the low, and ministered to their needs.

Who are society's lepers today?  Can our art help humanize them?

--Francis worked to help end the Crusades. 

How could our creative work help end wars?

--Francis created three religious orders, two of which exist today, centuries after he created them.

What kind of community could help us in our creative endeavors?  Does it exist already?  If not, could we create such a community?

Several times during his life, Francis had to write a rule book for how the communities would live together.  If you created such a rule book, what would you include?

--Francis created the first Nativity scene, what we might today call a living Nativity scene, complete with real animals.  His scenes were inspired by paintings of the Nativity scene (think Jesus in a manger, surrounded by those who loved him and some animals).  He wanted visitors to feel the full engagement of all their senses.  We might think of Francis as an early performance artist or maybe someone who created a piece of installation art.

If we've been working in a certain medium for many years, we may have gotten complacent about trying to have all the senses of our audience engaged.  What can we do to change that?

If you're not a performance artist or a person who creates installation art, what could you do to move into that area?  It's an exciting time for collaboration and for exploring technology.  And yes, it's a scary time too.

--The life of St. Francis shows us the transformations that can happen when we dare to dream.  Dare to dream today.

A Banquet and Archived History

Yesterday I drove down to Columbia, SC to meet my parents so that we could all go to the James R. Crumley Archives banquet.  In years past, I've seen pictures of the event, and I've always been curious.  This year, schedules aligned, and we could go.

Each year, as far as I can tell, the banquet is held at a different place.  So far, the Archive has not had a permanent home.  That's about to change:  Newberry College has donated land for a building and now the capital campaign begins.  We heard a bit about that new development last night.

(l-r Don Poole, Ina Berkey, Jane Mitcham,Tom Berkey)

But most of last night's banquet was to celebrate the accomplishments of the honorees:  an individual, a church, and a synod of the ELCA.  It was enough of a program to justify the banquet, but not so overwhelming/long that people started leaving early.

(l-r Honoree Dorothy Jeffcoat, Don Poole, Ina Berkey)

Before the event, we had been invited to be part of a program that told the story of African American Lutherans in the southeast.  That program turned out to be a documentary that's available to all (go here to watch), along with some segments about Atlanta from a forthcoming documentary in the same series.

It was a lovely evening with good food, good stories/speeches, and even better, the chance to reconnect with others from the region.  I was happy to be reminded of all my connections:  to individuals, to various churches, to synods from the southeastern United States, to Newberry College, and to church camps.  But more than that, I was happy to hear the stories of all the good happening in the world, in small ways and in big ways.

Celebrating the Arrival of October with Fabric

I spent much of yesterday attending to tasks that I often don't find time for during regular school days:  a dermatologist appointment, some grocery shopping, and a hair cut.  But I also did some fun activities.  Last year, I went to Asheville Cotton, one of our local fabric stores, on the first day of Fall Break.  This year, I continued the tradition.

I don't really need fabric, but I wanted to buy a few small pieces to keep me feeling inspired, and I really wanted some fall or Halloween fabric.  

I saw this bag but didn't pick it up immediately--after all, I could choose my own fabric, couldn't I?  I could, but I found it a bit overwhelming.  And I didn't get a price break on the mystery bag. 

I went to the remnant section and was uninspired.  I picked up a piece or two and headed to the cash register.  At the last minute, I added the mystery bag to my purchase.

I am happy to say that I am delighted with the fabrics--some of them even glow in the dark!

It's strange to me that I got more delight from the mystery bag than I would have from taking the $40.00 and buying my own selection of bits and pieces.  I was happy for someone else to have made the decision for me.  And the surprise element was fun.

It reminded me of a time that's beginning to seem very long ago.  When I lived in Hollywood, Florida, I bought my fabric at Jo-Ann's, because it was easy and had what I needed.  Occasionally, my quilting friends and I would go to a huge store that specialized in specialty quilting fabrics; the prices were too high for my budget at the time, but I did splurge on backing fabric once.

The store sold plastic bags of scraps, many of them too small to be useful.  But occasionally, there would be one worth the $10 price.  I loved dumping out the bag and seeing what was actually there.  Even better was when one of my quilting friends bought one too, and we could trade.

Last night, I didn't work with any of the new fabric I bought.  I'm trying to get a quilt made by Thanksgiving, so I worked on that.  Plus, I like having the new fabric for a bit of time before cutting into it.  It's a way to stretch the joy, and who can argue with that?  

Rough Drafts and Fall Break

We are at midterm at Spartanburg Methodist College--which means it's Fall Break today and tomorrow.  My spouse and I will have a day of working on different projects:  he's putting polyurethane on the sanded hardwood floors in the fixer-upper house in S'burg, and I have various appointments today (dermatologist, hair, Zoom session with one of our onground intensive instructors).

Yesterday my spouse and I went to S'burg in different cars, so I had some time alone at the Arden house.  What did I do with my alone time?  Cooking and baking, of course.  I have a lot of apples which aren't getting fresher, so I made this apple cake; it's a strange recipe, with mashing the apples with a mixer to get the crumbly batter into something that is more like a cake batter.  The finished cake is very moist.  When I first took it out of the oven, it seemed more like a bread pudding.  It's delicious, both iced and un-iced.

I also made dinner with the ingredients I bought on Tuesday for this Smitten Kitchen recipe that uses frozen ravioli and fresh spinach. It's similar to another Smitten Kitchen recipe that includes tomatoes (I use a small can of petite diced), cooking on the top of the stove, with a last-minute broil.

You might think I would do more writing during a time in the house when I knew that the T.V. would stay quiet.  I did write a draft of the paper that is due Oct. 5.  And while my Nonfiction Writing students worked on their next assignment, I did write a rough draft of my Mary in a Time of Climate Change,  poem (see this post for the original inspiration).  It went in surprising directions, although I didn't have much of a vision, so the main surprise was having any direction at all.

It reminds me of a similar process a few weeks ago.  I had been trying to write about Nancy Drew taking up quilting.  I was leafing through A. E. Stallings' Afterlife, her wonderful collection of mostly published poems, and came across "Medea, Homesick."  I thought about Nancy Drew, homesick for her youth.  And a poem just tumbled out of me.

This morning I've been looking at rough drafts of poems that I've composed in the last 2 months.  My goal for Fall Break is to finish one or two.  I am delighted to realize that I've written more than I remembered, although some of them are just some lines that may or may not have potential.

Well, let me get ready to go on my walk.  I'm eating extra apple cake calories--plus, I want to enjoy autumnal weather before it turns rainy/wintry.

Pumpkin Sketches and Full Moon Walks

Yesterday, we made a quick grocery store stop on our way back from Spartanburg.  At one point, I heard an announcement over the loudspeaker, so I went to the in-store Starbucks.  I had heard correctly--they were giving out samples of Pumpkin Spice Latte--yum.

For me, though, this season is really Pumpkin Sketching season.  Here's my latest:

Those of you who know me best know that I am often sketching pumpkins.  But in autumn, it feels more legit--the way I am always drawn to autumn spices that some call pumpkin.

This past week has also been full moon walking week.  It feels less onerous to walk in the pre-dawn dark when a full moon awaits.

I had always wondered if there was ever a time when I could capture both the moon and the lighted cross at the Lutheridge lake.  I'm calling this one a success, even if my phone camera is less advanced.

I also like the one that has some lights from the lodge/boathouse.  It's not quite spooky season vibes, but close--summer shifting vibes perhaps.

Mary in a Time of Climate Change

I met the artist Jill Ross through an online journaling group offered by artist Vonda Drees.  That feels like a very different time and world, and in a way, it was, back in 2018.  We were journaling our way through  Joyce Rupp's Open the Door: A Journey to the True Self.  I first blogged about the experience in this post, but there were others.  Through the years, we did some additional journaling classes online together.

Beginning of a Mosaic by Jill Ross

A few days ago, Jill posted this picture on Facebook with this caption:  "Day One- New Adventure Series, Mary in the time of Climate Change," and I wrote to say it would make a great poem title.  Then I wrote to ask if she'd mind if I wrote the poem.

I haven't written the poem yet, but I wanted to make sure I captured the idea.  I've used Biblical and mythological characters, like Noah's wife and Cassandra, to talk about climate change in past poems, but never Mary.

Noah's wife seems like a much more obvious choice than Mary, but I'm guessing it's because I haven't really thought about it much.  I immediately thought of the refugee angle (the flight into Egypt in the Gospel of Matthew), but is that a result of climate change?  Hmmm.

Let me capture some possible lines and see if they lead to anything:

--I have watched the grapes retreat to cooler climates.

--I know what it's like to flee a dictator.

--I have lost my children too.

--Blue is my color, my color and my mood.

--You have feared the flood and the fire.

Sunday Wrap Up: Sundaes on Sunday and Helene Memories

Yesterday, we had worship in the picnic pavilion at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  It was a bit chilly, but we continued on with worship as planned.  For more on worship, I wrote this blog post, or you can go straight to the recording of the sermon.

We had a potluck lunch with ice cream sundaes (Sundaes on Sunday!) after worship.  I looked across the field behind the pavilion with rolled hay and not for the first time did I think, I have fallen into a Norman Rockwell painting--and I mean that in the best possible way.

On our way home, we stopped at the grocery store.  I wanted better cheddar cheese to go with the apples I bought, and I picked up a bottle of white wine too.  It was as perfect an autumnal supper as I thought it would be.

Melancholy nipped at the edges of the day.  It was the anniversary of the worst damage of Hurricane Helene, and I had that on the brain as we went across the part of I 26 that had to be rebuilt after the Nolichucky River flooded in Erwin, Tennessee.  There were homes and manufacturing plants and a hospital and a radio station that aren't there anymore.

I also felt a bit of sadness scrolling through everyone else's memories and also a post on a friend's birthday that her husband posted.  She died suddenly and unexpectedly in February, and he invited us to post memories on his post earlier this week.  It was wonderful to read and remember, but also deeply sad, because she wasn't even 60 yet.

I fell asleep early as I often do on Sundays, but it was a good sleep, unlike Friday's sleep because of relentless headache because of commuting stop/slow down.  

And now for the week ahead:  Thursday and Friday are Fall Break, with midterm grades due Wednesday, so it will be a different week.

Saturday Fragments: Weather, Walking, and Apples

It has been a good week overall, yet I still arrive at this Saturday feeling a bit fragmented.  Let me capture a few fragments:

--I am still trying to decide if my apple comparing review exercise in my Nonfiction Writing class was effective.  In some ways, it was:  we had a great conversation about the apples, but we're still in the process of translating that experience to the writing of reviews.

--I haven't done as much walking this week--we've had several very rainy mornings, and while I don't mind walking in the rain, I worry more about walking in rain in the dark, as I must do with my MWF schedule.

--While I haven't done much poetry revising, I've been revising a short story I found in my files.  It didn't need much revising, so I don't know how much I should be patting myself on the back.

--We've had the arrival of our first cool weather--finally!  I want to bake, but I'm also aware of how many calories my fall favorites contain and how much time some of them take to create.

--I decided to do some tasks out of order this morning.  I went on a full moon walk--lovely!

--Yesterday was a day that many folks were celebrating Dolly Parton.  My spouse found 2 possible movies for us to watch.  I wasn't really up for 9 to 5.  Instead, we watched Straight Talk (1992), where Dolly plays a woman who leaves a bad boyfriend and heads off to interesting adventures in Chicago, some of which involve James Woods, who plays a newspaper guy.  Lots of unbelievable plot twists, but I didn't really care.

--My spouse and I both agreed that this movie is Dolly at her most physically lovely.  Her personality, lovely as always, blazes through this movie, which made it particularly perfect.

--We are almost at the 2 year anniversary of Hurricane Helene.  Two years ago today, I went down the market to Spartanburg Methodist College, hoping to finish up student conferences.  On my way home, driving through rain that seemed normal, I got a weather alert on my phone, telling me about a flash flood warning, urging me to seek higher ground.  I had just driven across a mountain and assumed the alert was for someone else, since I was in a car on the Interstate (I 26).  A day later, that part of the Interstate would be under water.

--And now there are new houses and apartment buildings being built on that land that flooded.  Maybe it was a hundred year flood, and those structures will be safe.  I am doubtful.

More Thoughts on Housing

ELCA pastor Clint Schnekloth has been doing some interesting thinking and writing about housing and the Church's responsibility in this time of housing lack; this piece about the vacant (not abandoned so much as underused and underutilized) church space is his latest, and this piece has some specific examples of responses by individual churches.

My church is much smaller, both in terms of space and members, than Schnekloth's church in Arkansas.  We have had members who needed temporary housing, which has led me to ponder our own use of space.  We don't have an educational wing/building with unused space.  It would take some radical rethinking to transform any of the rooms below the sanctuary.  It's a country church, with the sanctuary and restrooms on the first floor, and in the basement, a kitchen, a small fellowship hall, two bathrooms (one with a walk-in shower), three classrooms, one storage area, and a pastor's office.

As a very part-time minister who is only at the church on Sunday, I would be happy to give up my office to be a one room sleeping area for someone in crisis, even if the crisis lasts weeks.  But would the person who comes after me be happy with that decision?

And let me also remember that the Church Council has more say in this than I do.  My church in Bristol is amazing in terms of the members being responsible for the vision and the mission.  They've had very temporary pastors for over a decade now.  I don't want to undercut them.

Pumpkin Patch Anniversary

Yesterday was a lovely day to go to apple orchards and pumpkin patches.  I did look for the farm I didn't buy, the farm on the way to the orchard, which I blogged about in this post yesterday.  The house no longer exists, and I'm almost sure that the property has been transformed into a housing development called--wait for it--The Orchards.

I bought 3 types of apples, and I'll report on the writing assignment tomorrow.  I had a vision of buying Pink Ladies, in honor of my grandmother, and because they are so different from grocery store apples.  Similarly, there's a variety called Ginger Goldens which sounds like the Grimes Goldens that my mother-in-law always spoke of wistfully.  But those weren't in yet.  I bought Granny Smith, Ambrosia, and Ludacrisp.

I decided to pop over to the pumpkin patch next door.  They have so much more than pumpkins, both the kind you pick yourself from a giant garden where they grow in the ground (unlike pumpkin patches at a church) or already picked pumpkins, a wide variety.  They also have garden produce, some grown nearby, some not.  There's a refrigerator case with products from a local dairy (or creamery, if you want a prettier name) and with meat raised locally.  They carry all sorts of products in jars:  jams, jellies, all sorts of pickled things.  The stores also has all kinds of gift shop things, like figurines and wall decorations along with some sweatshirts, t-shirts, and hats.

I bought some Cherokee Purple tomatoes at an end of season sale.  I bought 2 pumpkins for the seasonal display I always create at our mailbox.  And I got a free hot apple cider.  The pumpkin patch was celebrating its 7th anniversary, along with the beginning of autumn, and they offered all customers a choice of a free hot apple cider or a free apple slushie. 

As I drove home, I thought about that pumpkin patch that opened in 2019--they survived Covid and the ravages of the remnants of Hurricane Helene that closed the main road for months, along with smaller flooded road incidents.  I thought that I should be the one giving them a cider or a slushie for their dogged endurance.

That hot apple cider was so delicious.  I wound my way home, across back roads that still aren't completely repaired--I know, because I had to go an alternate way because of repairs.  Once I would have had to pull over to have my phone guide me.  Yesterday I was fairly sure I knew where I was going--and I was right.

Here's to 7 more years, pumpkin patch--and 7 more years after that!

Of Apple Farms and Alternate Futures

Later today, I will stop by my favorite apple orchard on the way home.  I will be buying apples today and then again later in October--all for the sake of writing projects for my classes.  Tomorrow my Nonfiction Writing will have 3 kinds of apples, and we'll discuss the kinds of reviews we could write.  Then on Friday, we'll write those reviews.

I have a memory from a past autumn of driving to my favorite orchard and seeing a farm for sale.

This morning, I went back through my blog to find the reference, and I did; this post from September 29, 2011 has this bit:  "I continue to try to convince myself that a farm for sale is not a sign about my life's direction. I'm trying not to think about the proud tradition of poet-farmers in this country. I'm reminding myself that a farming life would leave me too exhausted to write. Too exhausted and broke to boot."

Each time I make the drive, I try to remember which property was for sale, and today will be no different.  But I do wonder if the house that was part of the property has since been torn down. It was looking old and tired 15 years ago:

Fifteen years ago!  I didn't ever call to find out how much the farm would cost, but I assume that even 25 years ago, I couldn't have afforded a 38 acre farm.  It is one of those choices, though, that still intrigues me.

If I see a farm for sale today, on my way to the apple orchard, I might make a different choice.  I would imagine keeping my teaching job in Spartanburg, while also running an apple orchard, while also teaching online classes part-time, while also preaching part-time in Bristol, Tennessee.

And then, I probably would make the same choice I made in 2011.  I would back out of the driveway and try not to look back.

I am so grateful to have arrived to living in this area, even without buying a farm 15 years ago.  If I had bought that farm, I might have missed out on my dream jobs that I have now:  teaching English classes at a small, liberal arts college (a dream job for my whole adult life) and preaching every Sunday at a small, country church (only very recently recognized as a dream job).

Hurricane Anniversaries: Hugo and Beyond

I have spent the last 10 minutes reading a Wikipedia article about Hurricane Hugo.  People who dismiss Wikipedia articles probably haven't read any in the past 20 years--they can be downright scholarly.  I got absorbed in various parts of the history of that storm, when all I really wanted to know is the day and time it came ashore in South Carolina, a more precise day and time than I found in this local news graphic:

The answer to that question:  very early on September 22, which means that on this day in 1989, I'd have been waking up nervous.  In the afternoon, after grad school classes at USC, some of us went to The Fresh Market, where I allowed myself to buy all sorts of treats I wouldn't ordinarily afford, either in terms of costs or calories.  

In the evening, after seeing footage on the local news about Charleston folks seeking refuge in the downtown USC arena, we took a spare blanket or two down to donate.  We were sheltering some refugees ourselves:  my undergraduate friend, Heather, her baby Sam, and her spouse, who had been at her mom's house in Charleston while her mom was away.  We put masking tape on our windows.

And then we waited.

You might ask why we were worried, being so far inland.  But Sumter was also similarly inland, and that town experienced major damage.  But I don't think we even experienced much in the way of  power outages in Columbia.  Our refugees stayed with us a few more days before heading back to help her mom clean up.

We moved to the Lowcountry in 1992, and there was still damage everywhere, from tilted trees to stray wreckage here and there.  Similarly, when we moved to South Florida in 1998, we still saw some leftover damage from Hurricane Andrew.

And here, in North Carolina, there's still lots of damage from Hurricane Helene, the remnants of which came here two years ago--the anniversary is later this week, but it's never far from my mind.

In 1989, Hurricane Hugo seemed like the kind of fearsome storm that would come just once in a lifetime.  Now we get these strong storms much more frequently.

And at some point, we'll look back and see this time period differently--a time when strong storms came, but we had time in between to clean up and rebuild.  Future generations will probably not have that luxury, if they are still living near the coast at all.