Columns
This Wonderful Life: A view through bare branches
Every morning, Bee and
I stand at the end of the
driveway waiting for her
bus and we look up into the
branches of the elm tree
that arches over the drive.
We started this little
ritual back in the spring,
when the first signs of new
leaves appeared like green
knuckles up and down the
long branches.
``Look,’’ I said to her.
``Soon the tree will be covered
with leaves, and we
won’t be able to see a bit of
sky through them.’’
Sure enough, bright
green leaves sprouted and
spread until the tree offered
a cool canopy. Peering up
through the branches was
like looking into a verdant
kaleidoscope, a mosaic of
greens and yellows and tiny
flecks of blue sky.
In summer, of course, we
found little reason to stand
at the foot of the driveway
for any length of time. Sure,
we might venture to the
mailbox or pass through
that general area on our
way to throw rocks into the
creek or walk to our neighbor’s
pond and listen to the
frog symphony. But we
never took the time to see
how summer had changed
the view upward through
the elm branches.
But then autumn came
around, and with it a new
school year and a new daily
opportunity to view the
world from the foot of an
elm tree.
In early September, the
tree already was giving us
a show — a bright yellow
leaf here, another leaf orange
and brown, and yet
another looking for all the
world like a green and red
holiday ornament.
Bee claimed she was collecting
autumn leaves, and
for many mornings, she
would find her favorite, and
give it to me to add to her
collection after she had gotten
on the bus.
``But wait there until the
bus is gone,’’ she told me.
``Don’t walk back to the
house until after the bus
leaves.’’
I promised.
The elm tree is one of
her favorites because, according
to Bee and her dad,
fairies live there. Or maybe
they’re faeries. However
they self-identify, Bee is
certain of their existence
because, on very, very cold
winter mornings when her
Papa takes her down to the
bus stop, the two of them
help the fairies keep warm
by blocking their knot-hole
doorway with a stick. Later
on in the day, when the
fairy house warms up, the
fairies push the stick out of
the doorway to the ground,
where Bee finds it the next
morning.
You should know that
our lawn is well-populated
by fairies. In the summertime,
Bee and Posey and I
build them little garden
shelters. We make beds of
moss and set pine bark tables
with buttercup tea
sets. We always add some
signal or flag so the fairies
will know that we’ve created
a safe place for them
where they won’t be bothered
by cats or chickens or
dogs.
After we’ve built the
fairy shelters, we check
them over the next days
and weeks for signs of habitation.
Bee is particularly
adept at spotting fairy
magic — a sort of vapor
trail they leave in their
wake.
``They were here,’’ she
will declare. ``I can see their
magic.’’
This week, Bee and I
have stood under the elm
tree looking skyward, and
we have noticed how very
little there is standing between
us and the view beyond.
Not one leaf remains
on the tree. It seems Winter
does not ask permission
from me, or from Bee or
from the shivering fairies
before unpacking its bags
and settling in for a long,
long stay. It’s kind of a bully
and a boor, that Winter.
A difficult and expensive
house guest who comes unannounced
with no clear
plans for leaving.
I began to think of snow
tires and oil bills and evenings
that grow dark before
the end of a banker’s workday.
I sighed.
Next to me, Bee sighed
too, but hers was more wistful,
more like the sigh one
makes settling into a feather
bed or a bubble bath.
``Maybe Dad can make a
fire tonight,’’ she beamed
up at me with an excited
grin. I could tell that she
was thinking of mittens
and sledding and snowmen.
``That would be perfect,’’
I told her.
Okay, Winter. You can
come in. The guest room is
yours, and I’ve laid out extra
towels. Leave your
shoes by the front door and
don’t monkey with the thermostat
without asking.
Elizabeth Trever Buchinger
hopes you’re as cozy
and warm as the Elm Fairies.
You can connect with
her at www.moremindfulfamily.
wordpress.com.
- Columns
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From Fly Creek: Passing fronts and settled weather
(I owe the first part of this column to an informal writers’ workshop sponsored by the Smithy Pioneer Gallery. The small group, led by Gallery Director Danielle Newell, meets Sunday afternoons and is open to anyone interested in the writing craft. As a warmup exercise on that very rainy afternoon, we each wrote a few paragraphs on the weather and emotions. Here’s what that keen group prompted me to scribble down) The dour old Scotsman, the one featured in jokes without number about buying lottery tickets, pinching pennies, scorning worldly ways, etc., once silenced a friend who was praising the beautiful weather.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: We're back from Michigan ...
Unfortunately, we once again find ourselves stuck in a time warp. When we look at the calendar, we realize that Labor Day is fast approaching. Yet, we seem to be operating under the misconception that it is still early July due in large part to the fact that we spent the almost five weeks from July 15 to August 17 in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We feel the summer has sailed by and we, unfortunately, have not kept pace.
Continued ... -
Otsego Herald: Censorship?
All those indebted to John Lawrence, Post-rider, and do not settle the same IMMEDIATELY may rely upon having to pay cost!! Otego, Aug. 24.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: 1984 comes to a close ... finally
As we continue traipsing through 1984, we realize that even though we were supposed to be covering the comings and goings of Cooperstown, we actually were able, even then, to touch on a number of pressing community, as well as personal, issues. Of course, much to the relief of the powers that were at CCS, the school was not among them. The he-we ran for the school board in 1984 and was elected. Thus the school was deemed off limits by the powers that were at the paper. But we discovered there was still a wide range of issues upon which we could write.
Continued ... -
Otsego Herald: New school book
From the Otsego Herald for Saturday, Aug. 18, 1810
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Books offer tennis insights
Professional tennis sometimes seems to be the ultimate life. Where else could you travel the world, earn gobs of money, get in great shape, and have groupies from the opposite sex chasing you all the time? And you get all your equipment free to boot (which may explain why players smash racquets without remorse). Quite a glamorous life, isn’t it?
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Continuing our 1984 musings
Now that we have undertaken the beginnings of this column, we fear we find ourselves unable to stop our review of the early writings. In fact, we seem to be completely addicted to the project. And thus, we will continue to explore the very foundations on which this column has been built.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Burnett's book recalls 'Golden Age'
It’s a shame that today’s young generation missed the golden age of television from the 1960s and 70s. The fact that Hollywood studios with their ``original’’ ideas of constantly remaking hit TV shows from that era into new movies and reunion specials is quite telling. Even Fox with its ``That 70’s Show’’ is a reminder of that whimsical time.
Continued ... -
Home Notes: A place to cherish
As we enter into the middle of summer, let us pause and relish in the fact that we have been blessed with such lovely weather.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: Hurray for Mother Bassett!
Just back from my annual week at Lake George’s Silver Bay, in company with about 600 other Quakers. As always, it was a great time: Friends shared silence in the early morning by the lake and during the day in the big brown-shingled tabernacle. (Silver Bay is an old YMCA camp.)
Continued ...
Plenty of fine stringed music and singing in the evenings; lots of daytime rocking-chair stints on the deep veranda, facing across rolling lawns and lake to green mountains and skies of startling blue. -
In These Otsego Hills: In the beginning
Our remembering Jerry in last week’s column has now lead us to muse about our early days of writing a weekly newspaper column.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Prohibition should not be ignored
I was an American history major in college and one topic that my professors never discussed was prohibition.
Continued ... -
Otsego Herald: Elopement
From the Otsego Herald for Saturday, July 21, 1810 Compiled, with comments BY HUGH C. MACDOUGALL
Continued ... -
Home Notes: Personal Care is a rewarding occupation
When I was a young girl in the early 50’s my family would often take rides through Cooperstown and the Cherry Valley area.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Remembering Jerry ...
Difficult as it is to believe, we have been a widow for eleven years this week. And yet it seems as if our late husband Jerry just died yesterday. The memory of it remains most vivid in our mind. We suppose there is much that we don’t remember about July 20, 1999. But we do remember just how much that day changed our life forever. We lost not only our spouse of 28 years, but also our best friend.
Continued ... -
Otsego Herald: Celebrating the 4th
From the Otsego Herald for Saturday, July 14, 1810 Compiled, with comments by
Continued ... -
Our Opinion: What’s good for the goose...
The board of trustees has decided to hire an engineer to review the work of CLA Site, the firm hired to do the site assessment and design work for the Village Gateway Project _ now known as the Cooperstown Intermodal Transit Project. That review will cost up to $12,000.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: ‘Thump-thump, dum-lum’
Since I last wrote to you I’ve been several times embraced to Mother Bassett’s bosom.
Continued ...
(Oh dear, I hope that’s not a disrespectful metaphor. But if you’ve seen photos, you know she was a handsome, dignified woman with an ample superstructure.) This time, for variety, the hospital visits at first seemed to have little to do with Parkinsonism. But a new problem had turned up that had me tested in every part of the hospital except obstetrics. -
In These Otsego Hills: Travels with The Widge...
We have decided that the role of grandmother is quite to our liking. As we have been told any number of times, as a grandparent it is perfectly acceptable to hold, play with and fawn over the grandchild until such time as said grandchild becomes fussy. And then, and this is the best part, it is completely within the purview of the grandparent to return the fussy grandchild to the parents. We love it.
Continued ... -
Otsego Herald: Shocking accident, American arrested
On Wednesday last, as Joseph Faulkner, esq. of Middlefield, was returning home from Cherry-Valley, a gust of wind arose up suddenly, a large Elm was blown across the road, directly on Mr. Faulkner, who, together with his horse was instantly killed.
Continued ...
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From Fly Creek: Passing fronts and settled weather
