This is a cutting back year
for us up here on the hill. The
universe may be expanding,
but down here on planet
earth there is an insistent
inner voice that says, like it
or not old man, the time has
come to stop creating more
work for yourself no matter
how much you enjoy the
fruits of your self-inflicted
labors. One of winter’s perennial
tricks is casting a veil of
forgetfulness over the previous
year’s labors. In the past,
I would look out my study
window about this time of
year and imagine all kinds of
new projects.
That is not the case this
year. Instead of, for instance,
envisioning new perennial
beds rippling their way colorfully
down the hillside, I think
a meadow, left completely
to its own devices, would do
just fine.
I have never doubted the
truth of the cliche that less is
more. The difference is that
now I am willing as hell to
buy into it _ hook, line, and
sinker. Last year we operated a
very modest CSA, which went
pretty well, but at the end of
the summer we realized that
as much as we enjoyed growing
veggies for others, we
could easily live without the
worry of making sure that we
not only had enough of everything,
but that it all stayed
fresh by pickup time. Plus, we
really yearned for full-time
summer flexibility, a luxury we
had not enjoyed since starting
our daylily business ten years
earlier.
The first thing we did last
autumn was return one of
our largest vegetable gardens
to its former wild state. This
spring we hope to move quite
a few things closer to the
house. It will mean reshaping
things a bit, which will
undoubtedly require a lot of
transplanting and digging.
But the long-term gain will be
worth the effort.
We ordered far fewer
vegetable seeds this year, an
existentially difficult task for
me. We still plan on growing
quite a few vegetables, but
the focus will be on healthy
summer eating and putting as
much food by for winter consumption
as possible. Many of
the exotics, varieties I cynically
refer to as designer veggies
ending in vowels, are out.
Over the past several summers
we have planted quite
a few fruit trees and berry
bushes, all of which should
start bearing within the next
few years. Root crops are
great because once planted
they pretty much take care
of themselves and are never
in a hurry to be uprooted
from their cozy subterranean
homes. I have a particular
affinity for vegetables that do
their work underground and
are content to stay put until
needed. As soon as the snow
clears I hope to pull a few carrots
out of my below ground
cold frame for a late winter
snack. That is, if I can find it!
I can go on and on about
the reasons for cutting back,
but the real reason is that
when one gets on in years
backs, arms, legs, and psyches
start to complain a lot more
about the demands made on
them.
For instance, as much as I
enjoy and appreciate winter,
I have made it very clear that
snow removal is just not as
much fun as it used to be.
Birding in Costa Rica next February
is an attractive option.
Fact is, I enjoy gardening and
farming just as much as I ever
did, but the time has come
to appreciate it more and
wrangle with it less. Besides,
that will leave more time for
foraging in the woods on the
lookout for interesting flora
and fauna, especially ferns,
wildflowers, and birds. The
time is ripe to start coming
down the mountain _ slowly.
Columns
Hawthorn Hill: Cutting back
- Columns
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From Fly Creek: For help with the smug
I’ve been having much fun lately, friends, writing a short book called “Saints for Special Needs,” completely fictional characters whomight get us thinking about humanity—and ourselves, in particular. Here’s a sample. Let me know your reaction. (Oh, and I have a fine cartoonist to illustrate the book!) [Almost every culture has a place for “the wise fool,” the vacant sort of person who, in fact, has a witty and trenchant view of humanity, and may even see into its future.]
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In These Otsego Hills: Still more from 1986
Early August found us asking the question, “Does anyone know when Edgewater was builtand by whom?” The answer, much of which came from Ralph Birdsall’s history of the village, appeared in the Aug. 13 column as follows:
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In These Otsego Hills: Continuing on from 1986 ...
We continue this week by answering the question we asked if anyone remembers the old Cooperstown National Bank? On May 13, we wrote: “Martha Dickison, Delaware Street, called to tell us about the Cooperstown National Bank where she worked at her first ‘real job’ after her graduation from school.
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: Spring inventions
The second line of Lawrence Durrell’s novel “Justine” reads as follows: “In the midst of winter you can feel the inventions of Spring.” I first read all four novels of his magnificent Alexandria Quartet during the year I traveled from Saigon to Paris after working in Vietnam for a refugee organization for several years.
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From Fly Creek: Revving up for spring
Time to bring you up to date on Fly Creek’s happy clambering into Spring. First, the eatery scene. “Is Jerry’s open yet?” The answer is, “Oh, yes!” The porches are freshly stained; the lawns a uniform green, and the hop vines are already climbing the posts on the covered side deck. Blue and I went up there to lunch earlier this week, and I celebrated spring with my traditional bacon, onion and Swiss cheese hamburger. We two sat on the deck, enjoying the broad view and some spectacular clouds marching across, up toward Schuyler Lake.
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In These Otsego Hills: More from 1986 ...
This week we continue with the discussion of telephone service from the pre-dial days. On March 12 we noted that: “No one has yet produced a telephone directory from pre-dial days, but Doug Preston of New Hartford recalls that some business (which one?) in the village had the phone number 7.”
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Home Notes: Celebrations abound at the Thanksgiving Home
April was a month of celebrations and much to appreciate. We had a 90th birthday celebration for Wanda Noyes on April 4 including her family and friends. Personal care staff Dee Bouck worked with residents to hand paint Easter eggs for the tree in the activity room.
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In These Otsego Hills: 1986 continues ...
This week we continue our journey through the columns of 1986 with the answer to the question “for whom, according to tradition, was Hannah’s Hill named?”
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Book Notes: Baseball book features local contributors
Baseball is part of the nation’s fabric. Most kids have a memory of the game either from playing Little League, attending a major league contest or meeting a favorite player. In Cooperstown that feeling is magnified since we are the official home of baseball. We get to see firsthand what has made the sport the national pastime.
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From Fly Creek: Ya really wanna know?
SETTING: Fly Creek General Store. CAST: Assorted seated geezers, drinking coffee. [Door opens, enter heavy-set geezer; walking slowly with wide stance, maybe prostatitis.]
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In These Otsego Hills: Returning to 1986 ...
For the past several years now we have undertaken sharing some of the area’s oral history we have collected over the years that we have written this column. Therefore, this year, we would like to go back to 1986 to share that rather unusual year. Those who were here then no doubt remember that it was that year that the village celebrated the bicentennial of its founding.
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From Fly Creek: For reasons unknowable
[Jim’s reached back to 2002 to share one of his favorite columns.] My father was born as the last century began into a river village in tidewater Maryland. He told me once of a man there in his boyhood who, like so many, made a thin living tonging for oysters in the cold months and, in the hot and humid ones, crabbing and raising vegetables.
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In These Otsego Hills: CCS balancing act ... side two
Last week we shared a number of activities in which students at CCS can participate. We thought it was an impressive, if not overwhelming, list. And we are indeed pleased that the young people of our area have these opportunities. However, we think it is also important to keep in mind that these undertakings do have a cost associated with them. They are not free. In fact there are, no doubt, those who would say they do not come cheap.
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From Fly Creek: A graceful crowd
Make of this what you will, friends. I feel I’m really meant to share it with you. Despite good medication for my Parkinsonism, every four or five weeks I can sensethe symptoms building up on me, giving me more than ordinary trouble. Lately it’s been falls, and last week brought a typical one. I’d gone out to get the paper, moving along with penguin steps on the snowcoved ice patches, and usingmy spike-tipped cane the waya climber uses an ice axe. But circumstances overcame me. Parkinson’s wipes out the possibility of multi-tasking.
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In These Otsego Hills: This and that and the other side ...
We note that the CCS Class of 2012 is presenting its senior class play, “Snow White” by Tim Kelly, this week with performances 7:30 p.m Thursday and Friday, March 29 and 30, and at 11 a.m. and 7:30 p.m. Saturday, March 31. All performances will be at the Nicolas J. Sterling Auditorium at the Middle/High School.
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In These Otsego Hills: That green thing ...
Of late we have noticed that our email inbox has been much busier than usual. In fact, we find ourselves hard pressed to keep up with all the various messages we receive. As a result we suspect we have not answered some in as timely a fashion as might be thought appropriate.
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From Fly Creek: What you need to know
In their last Sunday’s bulletins, all 84 churches of Otsego County were to have carried announcements of an important meeting; most of them did. But because the announcement is so important, and not just to the churched, here it is again.
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Book Notes: Living the magic of ‘Hoosier’
A lot of people consider “Hoosiers” the best sports film of all time. The 1986 classic follows the exploits of a fictional small town Indiana high school basketball team in 1952 as it attempts to achieve the impossible dream of a state championship. The story is inspired by the true life achievement of the 1954 Milan team, who with an enrollment of only 161 students shocked big city power Muncie Central on a last second shot to win the state title. It’s the kind of sports story that represents something that is hard to grasp unless you live in a small town.
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In These Otsego Hills: The most perfect village... home to heavy industry?
We suspect we would get a whole lot more accomplished if we spent less time thinking, pondering and musing about things. In fact, there is a good possibility we might actually have completed our goal of cleaning the basement if we only focused on the task at hand, instead of trying to figure out the world around us. It almost makes us wonder if it is possible to think too much about things. We certainly hope not because should that be the case, we are in deep trouble.
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: The past in the present
Clichés abound about the value of photographs. Most are probably true at least to a certain extent. What I do know about an image is that it represents something of the past that is not the pastitself. But that is the power of any image. It represents something that once was. The beauty of an image, revisited, is that it functions as a catalystfor reliving in the present a past experience. My own view, one that I thank the Spanish writer Jorge Luis Borges for, is that all we ever can experience is the present.
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From Fly Creek: For help with the smug
