Today's date: týsdagr 27. harpa eða 21. may 2013 CE

Archive for vermont

“Vernal” equinox at home

By Sabin Published March 22, 2013

On the first day of Spring, my wife pulled back the curtain in our bedroom at about 0730 to show me more snow than I think I’ve seen in months.

I wandered out into the frozen landscape with my Nokia 920 and snapped some pictures before I had to be logged in for work. The gallery below is an example of some of that adventure.

If you’ve read my blog before, you’ve probably inferred at least two things about me. The first being that I like north-y things. The second being that I’m very proud of my family and the legacy I inherit from them. The scenes in the pictures here capture both of those things.

There’s a comfort in snow that I find hard to explain. It’s silent, for one thing. I like the silence of an early morning snow-filled field. It allows me to hear my thoughts, experience my own existence, experience my living-ness. Silent to one sense, but noisy and shocking to others. The sun is shockingly brilliant in the morning even veiled behind steel-grey clouds. I couldn’t even see for the first five minutes outside. Even at night, it’s never really dark if there’s snow on the ground. Silent to my ears, shocking to my sight, stern to my sense of touch.

Snow reminds me of my fragility. Not because its own structure is delicate and crystalline, but in a real, non-poetic way. Snow tells me with it’s radiating cold that I am fragile. If it were not for my toque and gloves and boots and sweater, I would be dead within hours. Its softness belies a hidden ruthlessness that forces us in the north to be brutally honest with ourselves and with the environment in which we live. I appreciate that.

I appreciate that on the first day of Spring. A day where we normally start to think of birds and flowers, skimpier clothing, sex and babies. On this day nature told us, “No. I don’t think so. Don’t forget who you are and where you come from. Don’t forget your place in this system.”

So I took these pictures so I’ll always know exactly what my place was on March 20th, 2013 when nature told us not to forget.

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Perfect day

By Sabin Published September 26, 2011

I don’t normally post during working hours, but since I’m at lunch I figured I would make an exception. As you may have guessed by the title, today is perfect. It’s early autumn here in Vermont, the sun is shining in the glaringly orange/yellow way it does this time of year. The leaves are changing to palettes of red and orange and purple. But it’s not just the weather.

This morning my wife wanted to take a drive to get some breakfasty foods, so we did. All along route 15 and back we chatted while our kids sat in the back. Camellia giggling and counting her toes or shoes or whatever it is toddlers count. Gabe leaning against his window, brooding in that kind of joyful way that only a 12-year old can pull off. Perfect. The mist rose from the Lamoille River valley and we talked about this and that, something and everything.

To be able to start my days this way is joy. My family near me as often as possible is joy. I’m just glad I’m here.

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Even Scottish cows eat haggis

By Sabin Published July 10, 2011

The area between the house and the back woods used to be used as a pasture back when my dad was a boy here. Cows and horses grazed it. When I was a boy, our neighbors ran their horses there. What used to qualify as a pasture can now be considered nothing less than a wilderness meadow. Sweet Bedstraw, Milkweed, Goldenrod, Wild Strawberries, Moss, Alders are all competing for space and pushing out the grass and alfalfa that used to hold so much sway.

While mowing yesterday, I produced quite a lot of mulch from this mix of wild growth and human-designed plantings and wondered what kind of animal — if any — could eat it. Danielle and I would love to get some Icelandic sheep to graze out there. We’ve recently started thinking about — at least I have — having some kind of cow (though a lactose-intolerant family would lead me to believe that perhaps a goat would make more sense) out there. So what kind of animals could survive on such a wild mix of crap? According to my dad not any kind of cow except a particular kind of Scottish breed. As I thought about that, it struck me as funny. So funny, in fact, that the following scene has been playing through my head since yesterday morning. I imagine a breakfast session in our back pasture might go something like this: (with honor to Danny Bhoy).

Morning on the farm. The sun rises above the northeastern woods. A few cows and sheep graze passively in the meadow.

Holstein (munching on straw and hay): Mmmm. I love this clover and grass here. It’s so good. Yum yum light tasty breakfast.

Icelandic (chewing contentedly on a string of moldy roots): Mmph. Ya pansy.

Ayershire (coming in with a giant wad of grassy, weedy, seedy stuff): Aye, sheep. That’s no way ta start tha day, Holstein.

Holstein: Ew. What’s that ball of sloppiness you’re chewing on?

Ayershire: It’s “graggis”. My mum used ta make it for me every mornin’ when I was a wee calf. Goldenrod, grass, moss, alder sprouts all wrapped up in a milkweed leaf. Wanna bite, lass?

Holstein: Heavens, no!

Ayershire: Suit yerself. Oi, sheep! Wanna a taste o’ the graggis?

Icelandic (spitting a mouthful of something out): Ya! That sounds fantastic. It will go well with this moldy squashroot.

Holstein: …

 

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Pulling magic from the land at Achenmead West

By Sabin Published July 3, 2011

Our garden is coming along slowly compared to some others I’ve seen. We’ve planted squash — perhaps far too much of it — beets, corn, parsnips, chamomile, sage, thyme, rosemary, lavender, nasturtiums, blueberry bushes, parsley, calendula, and a few other herbs I’ve forgotten. I still haven’t gotten the zucchini, salad greens, carrots, tomatoes, or any of the other traditional veggies planted. I’m feeling a little lazy about that. Also, it’s a little disconcerting to see the meadow continue to creep into our planting space. Why milkweed, Bishop’s Weed, Sweet Bed Straw, Goldenrod and a thousand other species of “weeds” thrive while the stuff we want to eat doesn’t is beyond me at this point. Granted, there are some species out there that I normally value for potential herbal remedies, but still. They could at least stay out of our veggies. So did I use today’s sunshine and get a head start? No. I watched Rollerball.

Some days — like today — it seems so overwhelming to go and try and put my imprint on nature. Who am I, after all? This land we’re stewarding has been here far longer than the house has and will be here long after we’ve gone, too. For some reason, though, I feel an urge to try and convince this land to allow us some modicum of control over its tendencies: veggies here, pasture there, wood trees up there, maple trees on that side. I think in the long run the land will concede somewhat but so far it’s a struggle, the garden patch being a microcosm of the entire property.

By no means am I giving up or relinquishing any of my desire — from where ever that comes — to gain sustenance and support from this little piece of Vermont. Not at all. In fact, when I think about watching Rollerball for a fifth time, I feel myself willingly drawn to the encroaching meadows, invasive poplars and elders, and scarcely-growing vegetables to try once again to exert our vision.

 

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Spring is breaking through

By Sabin Published April 12, 2011

Here at Achenmead West, spring is starting to finally show itself in recognizable ways: the grass is showing brown and damp from beneath the heavy snow, small birds are flitting about and ravens are hovering above, the driveway is a nearly impassable run of foot-deep mud. Early spring in Vermont: two parts delight, one part slimy brown mud.

Before I get into that, though, I feel I should explain “Achenmead West”. It’s my dad’s name for the 10 acres we live on here in Mackville — an old village within the town of Hardwick. He takes the name from the mythical location of the Densmore family back in Scotland circa 1630 or so. The story goes that a Laird Dinsmoor lived in Achenmead and had two sons. The younger ran off to Northern Ireland and eventually had children who made it to New England. While the hunt for the factual Achenmead — Auchenmade is perhaps a candidate — continues, my dad felt that the legend was enough to lend name to the land here.

While I think that the naming of the land was partially a joke or at least tongue-in-cheek on my dad’s part, it still gives a great deal of credence to this house and the land around it. Here is where my dad grew up with his mother and father and grandfather; here is where I grew up with my mother and father; here is where my son and daughter are growing up with their mother, father, and grandfather. There’s a cycle of history within the last few generations around this place and to give it a name that hearkens back to pre-family times that cycle is strengthened and made clearer. This is my father’s land as it was his father’s land. I continue the cycle as its current steward — I’m in no hurry to own it, just in case any wights are reading this — and the name gives all of that a reason to tell the story.

A farm of your own is better, even if small,
everyone’s someone at home;
though he has two goats and a coarsely roofed house,
that is better than begging.

Cattle die, kinsmen die,
the self must also die;
I know one thing which never dies:
the reputation of each dead man.

The power of the place and of having a place of our own. Stories of family, of names of land, of histories of homes all lend to building the reputation of all of us. Here in Mackville in Hardwick is Achenmead West staking a humble claim to these 10 acres. What stories might be told about it and its residents in the future? What stories do we want told about it? Those future stories are our current lives. We make them as we live.

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Klan in Hardwick?!

By Sabin Published January 8, 2011

I saw a guy this morning at the gas station with a Klan patch. He was pulling into the gas pumps. From where I sat in my dad’s Explorer, I could see his upper torso and left arm as he drove by. He had two patches that caught my eye because the bottom patch was a bright, red oval with the white capital letters “A K I A”. As soon as I saw it, I knew what it meant. I knew, but I couldn’t believe it. I kept telling myself that maybe it was some kind of company he works at or something — I still kind of hope that’s what it is. All day long I procrastinated, but finally I did some searches and confirmed it about an hour ago. The letters “A K I A” are a KKK acronym meaning “A Klansman I Am” and are used as the response to the “K I G Y” — Klansman I Greet You — acronym. All I can say is that I hope this guy and his wife were just passing through town. I don’t want to think that this community I’ve called home for my whole life, the place to which we moved back to raise our children is harboring this jack ass.

Now it’s bad enough that this guy had the KKK patch, but just above it in gold thread on a black circle he also had a patch of the runic compass. It’s that circle of runes around the Younger Futhark symbol for HAGALAZ. It infuriates me that this asshole is not only so racist and blinded that he thinks promoting one race over another is good for the country and humanity, but that he also associates heathenism with that belief.

For too long, the runic symbols have been co-opted by ignorant violent sociopaths and their weak-willed followers. I know that as a heathen I will have to do what I can to eradicate improper use of the runes and other symbols, but to see it in my hometown is almost too much. I wasn’t ready this morning to face the realization that even studying runes locally could lead to confusion and misconstrued intentions. The fact that I face association with this klan-glorifying ignoramus because he’s associating runes with his racism is abhorrent to me.

Posted in runes, thoughts, vermont | 3 Comments

Elections are over; what’s the score?

By Sabin Published November 3, 2010

The 2010 mid-term elections are complete. I’ve always hated that term: “mid-term”. I don’t like that the election cycle is defined by the president’s time in office. It somehow dumbs-down the legislative elections in the same way that a mid-term exam might not be worth as much as the final when in fact the legislative elections are worth much more.

This is the election cycle that has the potential to drive and shape policy, most accurately voice the will of the voters, and generally set direction for the country in terms of what is likely to be debated. It’s a huge deal. I prefer we go with the term “general elections” and “presidential elections”.

The democrats finished badly — though not as badly as some had said — and it looks like we’re in for an interesting and corruption-filled two years before we try and fix this. I can’t believe you all voted for republicans. What were you thinking? Do you seriously think we’re better off with the same people who supported Bush for eight years? Really?! Why do you think we’re in the mess we’re in. The debt, unemployment, financial crisis, wars, pollution: all of them were inherited by the current administration. Left as a legacy by Bush.

So that’s the national picture, and I’m unpleased. While I’m not by any stretch of the imagination a democrat, I’m certainly not in the fold of the current republicans. Locally, things look a bit better.

My county district voted back in our long-standing representative at the state level — Lucy Leriche — over a former schoolmate of mine, Nicole Ling. I had to learn quickly about the two, and found out that Leriche would be my choice. For one, she’s experienced and has actually accomplished stuff. Secondly, she can spell her position. Thirdly, she’s not republican and doesn’t seem to let religion or morality interfere with her political work. I’m happy there. I don’t know that much about our state senators, but I will find out.

As the dust settles, I’ll be posting data on the turnout and who voted for whom. We’ll see exactly how many people have just decided upon fate for the rest of us, eh?

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Living in Mackville

By Sabin Published October 20, 2010

Carey Road was graded today. You can tell when that’s done because there are loose stones on the surface of the road where there once were only potholes. Generally speaking, these loose stones are on the outside edges of the sharper turns. Add to that the fact that here in Hardwick we only put up guardrails where someone has already died, and your nine p.m. trip to the convenience store becomes fraught with danger.

Mackville was first settled in 1834 when the Mack family built and moved into the first dwelling here. Prior to that, a sawmill ran up by Nichol’s pond. It’s an area about one mile south of Hardwick Village, and was once home to a woolen mill, granite shed, ice house, saw mills, and granite quarry. Right now, it’s a quiet town road that fades into dirt about one mile south of our driveway.

It is quiet here. The moon tonight is bright, unhindered as it is by absent streetlamps — which end at the Village edge — and darkened houses shadowed further by full trees and ample space between neighbors.

The 10 acres on which we sit is mostly wooded. A steep birch and evergreen infused granite/slate ledge rises some 500 feet out of the pasture east of the house proper and plateaus to give rise to a stand of maple and old hemlock. We are bordered on the north by a rising pasture that separates us from the neighbors there, and a low marsh that keeps us apart from the southern folks.

Once a busy, factory-centric neighborhood, Mackville still seems to vibrate with a thick and separate energy from the village just north of us. There’s something about the central pond, the overflow that once generated power for all of Hardwick and the bordering mountains that make this section of Hardwick town special and different from the rest of it.

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Patrick Leahy (D-VT) introduces extension of Patriot Act sunset

By Sabin Published October 10, 2009

GovTrack: S. 1692: Text of Legislation, Introduced in Senate.

With the bill linked above, Patrick Leahy is attempting to move the end date of the USA Patriot Act from December 31st 2009 to December 31 2013. On October 8th the bill was read twice and submitted to the Senate Judiciary Committee, of which Leahy is chair.

Specifically what S. 1692 will do is amend the USA Patriot Improvement and Re-authorization Act of 2005 by changing ’2009′ to ’2013′ in various sections of the law which reference the bill’s “sunset”, a fail-safe date placed into the law in order to make it more palatable to its detractors. The next step for Leahy’s bill is for it to leave the Judiciary Committee and enter debate on the floor of the senate.

If Leahy’s amendment goes through, the USA Patriot act and all that it allows will stay with this country for another four years. This law needs to run its course and end this December.

For eight years now we’ve lived in a shadow of fear brought on by first the destruction of the World Trade Center, the fall-out caused by the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq and — not the least — the fear-mongering actions of our representatives in congress, of which the Patriot Act is one.

The structure of the United States is such that we can either entertain personal and civil liberties, or we can give all of that up for the illusion of perfect safety. We can’t have both. The Patriot Act represents the latter. It’s time for the former. There is still time for us to contact our senators and representatives and let them know that we’re done with the Patriot Act and the fear it represents.

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By Sabin Published May 7, 2009

Garden Diagram

This year we’ve decided to replant the family garden. The plot my mother, father, and I used to use is about 3,000 square feet and should be plenty for my father, sister, and the three of us here in MA. There’s something phenomenally exciting to me about this plan. Not only does it involve more trips to Vermont — which are never bad — it also is a start towards what I think the future will be like: a further reliance on the land for survival. Because for everything this garden is — educational, an excuse for weekend VT trips, a supply of food — it is also about survival: ours and that of the food itself.

There will be a point at which the cost of fresh food will be so hampered by the cost of delivery and logistics that unless people grow their own or purchase extremely locally, it will be unaffordable for most families. People will be forced into buying the less-nutritious, more genetically-altered veggies in the local frozen or canned goods aisle. While I don’t necessarily believe that frozen or canned food is poisonous or will be in the future, there is something to be said about eating food that hasn’t been engineered. Engineering food changes its relationship with the ecosystem, introduces unknowns into our diet, and otherwise messes with Mother Nature. Engineered food may or may not cross-pollenate with un-engineered varieties and could limit our chances of preserving seeds for the future. And even if that’s not likely, why would we take the chance?

Anybody with a small bit of grass, window space, a porch can start a garden for themselves. Even if you live in the middle of a city, there is probably a chance to start a neighborhood plot somewhere. Anytime humans can do something for ourselves that keeps us in touch with the way the earth works, we gain a little something out of life. It’s not tangible nor measureable, but I do feel it’s noticeable.

I designed the garden with not only work in mind, but also with the idea that it could be relaxing place to laze away a few hours. There’s a central circle with some benches and plenty of paths. The patches are all raised beds, and the paths are covered in straw or compost to keep the weeds down. Around the garden is a fence to keep the dogs from romping around willy-nilly. We plan on putting some pleasant chimes on the posts to hopefully kepe the deer away, too. There are animals, however, that we do want in the garden.

The grey circles are piles of stones for snakes, and the tan/sienna circles represent toad homes: clay pots on their sides. Both toads and snakes will help keep the nasty bugs to a minimum. Milkweed, Queen Anne’s Lace, and other wildflowers around the outside will attract butterflies, ladybugs, and bees.

All-in-all, I think we have the potential for a pretty good space, and I’m looking forward to getting a start on it. First planting should start on the 15th of May, with the second one being the week after.

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