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
This Wonderful Life: A view through bare branches
- Columns
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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.
Continued ... -
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.”
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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?”
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.]
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
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.
Continued ... -
Home Notes: Workshops held for Thanksgiving Home residents
We welcomed Linda Keller, Ph.D. of the Bassett Research Institute and Ida Baker of NYCAMH who presented a six-week workshop for residents and staff.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: Late-winter hamlet news
Well, at least I’m “guessing” it’s late winter now — in the winter that wasn’t. But, if not snow, I can provide a flurry of Fly Creek news to share with you, scooping Associated Press, Reuter’s, and United Press International, not to mention all local news services except our General Store.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Waiting for spring to have sprung ...
Difficult as it to believe, both January and February seem to have flown by and we find ourselves turning the calendar over to the month of March, which we have long thought is one of the more dreary months of the year. Of course, as in the pastthere are signs of spring as reflected by the tapping of the maple trees. For many years, the trees sprouted buckets to capture their all important sap. However, we now know to look for the sap collection lines that are strung from tree to tree.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Kennedy: a unique individual
It’s been almost 50 years since the Kennedy assassination shocked the nation. Since then much has been written about President John F. Kennedy and whether he would have achieved his destiny (whatever that may have been) if he had lived. It is said he inspired young people in a way that has never been equaled. And there is the notion of Camelot, espoused by his widow Jackie, that there will never be a time of hope and promise like that again.
Continued ...
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From Fly Creek: Revving up for spring
