Election Day Blahs

Over the past three weeks all the local temporary electioneering signs have gone up along the country roads were I live. The signs are all of the professionally printed kind which hang between two wire legs. They are inserted into the front lawns and/or along the sides of the roads. "ELECT Lou Hatch" or "For Town Board- Brenda Adams" and so on.*

I am uncertain if the signs which appear at the fronts of different mom and pop businesses signify the political leanings of the owners or if they are simply accessible areas for signage. Sometimes as many as a dozen signs are lined up in a dense row along the roadway - each for a different town or country office and/or person in shades of red white and blue. Very boring. Very ugly. Very invasive. Very stupid.

I am reminded of the old Burma Shave signs that one used to come across in the most out of the way places along the roadways when I was a child. I loved them...everyone did. They were clever, intelligent, silly and fun to find. My first (and nearly my last...I continue to enjoy "I love LA" billboards in Hollywood) positive encounter with outdoor advertising. The "hit you over the head" approach of unsightly enormous billboards is nothing to compare with the finesse of the old Burma Shave adverts. For those who don't know - the Burma Shave ads were in the form of poems, a word or short phrase on each sequential sign...spaced out along the side of the road so that you read the short message as you drove by ending with a Burma Shave logo. These were small highway signs, low to the ground, wood, painted nicely, not more than a foot and a half wide....wonderful little rhyming ditties. Here's one featured on wikipedia.org.

"Her chariot
Raced 80 per
They hauled away
what had
Ben Hur -
Burma Shave"

Ahhhh....that one is really good folks. Many of the little messages were about driving safely. And others were about the product....a shaving creme. Here's one of the personal hygiene slogans:

"Henry the Eighth
sure had trouble
short-term wives
long-term stubble -
Burma-Shave"

All were quirky and funny.

And so...what's wrong with local (and regional and national) political signage? Well yes, it stinks. The content is as boring as, dare I say it, the folks running for office. As election days approach the public is bombarded with stupid messages and horrible design...and we are supposed to entrust our government into the hands of these people who can't even create an engaging, intelligent or funny sign?

Haven't we learned
what you see
is what you get ?

Can you imagine if what we saw along the roadway was something like:

Hatchs have been here
for quite awhile
200 plus years
in Canaanite style.
Good law and order
with nary a smile
Lou be the judge
the other guy's vile.
Lou Hatch - town justice.

or

You know her
she's real bright-

she'll hammer
the board
with all her might.

Brenda Adams -
is town Board right!

And, more important we need to use creative signage and adverts to get the bad eggs out of the basket...so, how about:

BE REAL WARY
of tricky Gary
He can't count
the budget amount
Best tide the flow
of Canaan's dough
We gotta' take measure
and let Gary go.

I'd rather smile at the candidates' slogans than grimace at them. On a national scale...the only difference is the amount of money being spent. The messages are all equally lame. Why are these people so dull? Remember.....

Be real wary / of tricky Gary !

Four or was it six years ago, both parties approached me about helping them graphically - with their "message". For a designer that means doing free work. It's a thankless job. Someone always ends up being angry or hurt or slighted. Usually that's me. There are no credits rolled at the end of an event or an election. The organizers, the politicians take in the accolades for themselves and keep them. Nonetheless I attempted to help both groups with what I considered were the issues at hand by discussing local perceptions with the major candidates. I didn't want to foolishly alienate my local government. But over the years I've learned to not expect much from them. I'll write about my $75,000 culvert another time.

But sadly or realistically, over time, I've learned our local politicians, just as our national ones, don't usually represent a common interest for the good of the community. In local politics as in national politics...only the vested interest of the politician's personal objectives is what will actually be realized during their tenure. In reaction, these days I represent my own vested interests. I promote what I think is important. I do the labor myself. I promote the cause myself. I ask the questions which have to be asked and assemble the issues which have to be reviewed in my community. I put my opinions in the face of other local residents in the way I know best. I don't run for office and put out stupid red, white and blue signs on the country highways for 5 weeks a year in compliance with the town's signage rules. I use the 24/7 electronic highway instead. Take a look at SaveCanaanCountry.com sometime to see what I mean.

So Susan's savvy /
although she's unseen /
neither town hack /
nor local queen /
stoppin' stupid strip malls /
and keepin' Canaan green/
for flora and fauna/
and everyone in between!**

What would you rather read?
Don't forget to vote...

* I'm not sure who's running for what exactly....I'll know before I vote and you can be damn sure I'm going to vote.

** I would love to print and erect my own Burma-Shave type signage along the highway if it was affordable. I think one could really communicate effectively along the roadways of our towns and villages, cities and counties, states and countries and bring back free creative speech to our roads. However, thus far, the Internet superhighway is the only pathway affordable.

Dream forth to
a ride to come
where speech is free
along asphalt's run

BOO!

leaf peeping

I met friends in Great Barrington over the past weekend for a movie with George Clooney and dinner with Koi. Good film. good food, good friends.

The drive was spectacular...the hills were alive with vibrating color. It was our collective opinion that we were dead center in Fall's prime leaf peeping weekend.

Although locals don't consider themselves in league with the peepers, I have to admit to not being able to keep my eyes on the road while I drove. I found myself drifting over the center dotted and solid lines more than once as I kept the hills in sight instead of the road. Luckily, very little traffic impeded me. Unless one was driving blind ...one could not help but do a little overdosing in the cornucopia of tantalizing colors through which the roads tunneled.

the first gas buy

Before I left home I had to pull out the Prius "manual. " It was time to figure out what sort of gasoline the car takes. I hadn't reason to fill up the tank since I brought the car home about a month ago. In fact, I still had about a quarter of a tank of gas in the car. The car's trip information computer tells me I am averaging about 45 mpg. Not bad. I stopped and put in $10 worth of medium grade gasoline which filled the tank half full. I figure this will last quite a long time at my rate of consumption (or the Prius'). I drive only 3-4 times a week, mostly short trips in the countryside. However a short trip in the mountains, when nothing is close by is always 15 minutes to a half hour before you reach a destination. So, $10 for gasoline every 3 weeks won't be too difficult to digest for the Prius or me. I expect to save about $25 a month on gasoline...the more I drive, the more I'll save. Not to mention the $700 tax deduction for buying a hybrid vehicle.

Pretty easy to figure out that the initial cost of the automobile will be offset by the dollars NOT spent in gasoline and federal taxes...making the car actually even less expensive to own and use on a monthly and annual basis.

Almost too good to be true, isn't it? Eat your heart out you non-hybrid drivers. I hear the price of gas just jumped again yesterday too. O.K., so maybe I'll be spending $13 a month for gasoline instead of $10. And you'll be spending what?

By the way, I am not driving a Prius for the gasoline dollars I'm not going to spend (although damn, it's a wonderful plus)...I'm driving a hybrid for the carbon emissions I'm not going to be responsible for creating.

Tipping Points on the Environment

Many people will be blogging about saving the environment and its many inhabitants, global warming, steps we can take to reverse our carbon emissions and other green issues today in a collective effort to create Internet buzz.

I've recently purchased a hybrid vehicle. I hesitated about liking the new car for about a week. I didn't want to give up my Subaru Forester but I saw that I could easily reduce my own carbon emissions by trading in the Forester on a hybrid Prius. And I went ahead but I dragged my feet about really liking the new car. I felt it was medicinal.

But I love it. It's a pleasure to drive. I see many more hybrids on the roads around me this year than ever before.

So more and more people are reaching the tipping point and doing one and then another and another thing to reverse Global Warming. Hopefully this will help other people to jump on board.

I love the hybrid car and feel very good about driving it...not a bad trade up.

How to save the planet

The non-environmental world's reaction to Al Gore's being honored as a Nobel Peace Prize winner is disturbing.

photo credit: Al Gore Speaking this morning at the Alliance for Climate Protection, LiveEarth. org

I thought Americans would simply be proud of him.

Is it a stretch to see creating awareness of the effects of over energy use and how to make simple and difficult corrections – would be a healthy planet? And a healthy planet is as important as a peaceful planet.

And isn't politicizing the science of global warming needed to get governments as well as people to understand the repercussions of over energy usage?

And isn't the media reaction to a pretty good Oscar award winning documentary part of what's needed to create the right sort of buzz, get people thinking, talking, taking action?

The negative comments about Al Gore only thinly veil the greed of too many Americans and their excessive consumption, the excuses they postulate, their condemnation of someone who is making a positive difference in a crisis of global proportions. It's appalling.

One person writes about how Al Gore uses too much energy himself. That he heats a pool, that his house uses more energy in a month than a normal family uses in a year. And that buying some sort of energy shares to offset his consumption is more a statement of how rich people can screw up the planet but the rest of us can't. Well actually buying the carbon shares does offset energy consumption. But something about this observation saddens me. Partly because it's true...that wealth does buy privileges, even about global warming. And that the pursuit of wealth might actually be part of the global warming problem.

The vehemence with which some people write about Al Gore seems to be about more than his winning the Nobel Peace Prize. The divisions among Americans can not be allowed to color issues about the environment. Red states and blue states need to become GREEN states.

Global Warming isn't a Democrat or Republican or Independent issue; it's a planet Earth issue. Al Gore gets it.

Yesterday I was very happy for Al Gore. Today I am concerned for about half the Americans in the country. What are you thinking people?

Wondering how bad the Winter will be...

photo credit: PD Photo

We all make projections. Some are based on scientific information, others on weatherlore. We might see many totally brown (no center band) woolly bear fuzzy caterpillars and think..."ah, it's going to be a fair Winter." Or we might notice the birds migrating sooner than normal or hear the honks of the Canada (it's really not Canadian as friends constantly remind me) Geese as they fly in V's over head and think...soon...Winter is coming soon.

You might attempt to stave off the snow with a spell or two accompanied by visualizations of warmer weather. I'm not a weather spell sort, but apparently they are quite common (rain dancing for instance – Hopi, Zuni, Cherokee not Gene Kelly.)

Beginning with ancient civilizations – weather has fallen under the umbrella of the supernatural within the domain of those individuals who presumed to wield some control over sun, rain, snow, hail, thunder, lightening and everything in between. Power has always fallen into the hands of the rain makers and only more recently been usurped by the hate mongers, fear preachers and others who, for some reason, have more contemporary credibility. Just a little too SciFi– flim flam– inside the belt way for me. However, it's pretty clear we'd be better off taking our chances with a good Witch doctor than FEMA.

Snow removal woes before it arrives

Today the snow plow man called and said (in a rehearsed speech) that his "insurance rates on his truck for plowing were going to be too high and so he was canceling his plowing business." The man bought a much bigger gas guzzling truck a couple years ago specifically to plow and bought a new bigger plow to haul around in Winter. These things aren't cheap and now...he isn't going to plow? His excuse seemed too pat, too easy. Why not find a work around? He was already defeated; a local country man knocking out a subsistence living mowing lawns and raking and doing a little gardening and snow plowing in Winter. I asked "if he'd called any other insurance company since NY allows for quite competitive rates these days." He hadn't. I asked "what would happen if he had an accident plowing his own driveway...his insurance wouldn't cover repairs?" He said, "he was allowed to plow his own driveway." I asked, "what about plowing your mother's driveway? Is that allowed?" He didn't answer. I said, "it seemed highly unlikely that his normal truck insurance wouldn't cover him for casual (non income generating) plowing" a statement he found particularly frustrating. He began ranting about losing his house if he was sued and saying the same thing over and over, clearly upset about this potential added insurance (he said it was over a thousand dollars). I told him "I could easily pay him for doing something else instead of snow plowing so that money didn't change hands"....but he seemed ready to just quit. Defeated and tired. I called the man who used to plow and left a message. His wife called; he doesn't plow in my area anymore. Another pre-Winter worry.

photo credit: www.public-domain-photos.com

I didn't put my polertec jacket away last Spring...the cold of that season lasted into the heat of the Summer. I never put my outer parka (that the polertec zips into) away either. My gloves lie in wait in the basket by the door. Yesterday I removed all the sandals and garden clogs and brought all the boots to the top of the pile. And now to see the jackets awaiting the climate to match makes the leap into cold appear to have come without the relief of warmth in the Summer. Having cold weather gear always hanging by the door is a mistake.

Life lies in wait for a long list of tasks to be accomplished before one can sink into the comfort of toasty evenings of late Fall and early Winter.

The shorter days and the chill of damp air is mood altering...for me depressing, for others a time to give up, for others...resignation and still others – hope.

Personally I don't care for weather predictions. I prefer the surprise. Why fret over the future when we barely know the present? Except, of course...in terms of killing the planet...by not thinking ahead. We've all become experts on that sort of surprise haven't we?

transitions

A few days of rain have made the vague possibility of the end of the warmer months an approaching reality. Turning on the house heat becomes less of impulsive act and more of a "how much chill is acceptable and how many layers of clothing can I put on" instinct.

A friend said she'd been "out for apple cider donuts over the long Columbus Day weekend...and that Fall must actually be upon us." In the NE, after the first or second blush of happiness in the surround of Fall color, regret quickly enters the equation. What we never got finished on the house repairs must wait for another year, the push to finish closing the garden, get outdoor furniture stored, put the finishing touches on the bits and pieces of our life which require alternative costuming for the colder months.

And this year Fall activities are complicated by our warm, humid weather.

How can you put away the deck umbrella when it is still 75 degrees outside? How can you think about Winter clothes when perspiration is soaking through your short sleeved shirt? How can you manage to rake the leaves that are ankle deep when the lawn continues to grow (and needs to be mowed) to be ankle high. There a whole new crop of moths out there that have woken up from their brief hibernation. I've seen flies buzzing around. Birds seem confused about whether they are migrating South or North. Global Warming isn't a vague concept...it's a daily reality.

• • • good

news

The cockroach is back.
Hide the RAID.

"The Annotated Archy and Mehitabel"


"Penguin Classics has published a new collection of Archy and Mehitabel stories , including some sketches never seen in print since Don Marquis wrote them in his newspaper columns 90 years ago" says John Batteiger of San Francisco, enlightened humor historian (and certainly much more) who creates DonMarquis.com – the source of the Archy and Mehitabel illustration below. Thank you. Thank you. Good stuff!

See also DonMarquis.org created and maintained by James Marquis Ennes, Jr in cooperation with John Batteiger. Lots more good stuff!

These guys tell me that Bantam Doubleday Dell claims copyright © to all of the literary works of Don Marquis. However they've apparently made a deal with Penquin Classics.

•

which reminds me:

concept, design and content of NEW YORK COUNTRY GIRL © sgoldin 2007.

•

fickle fingers of ...

low down on lower case

Why do we all use upper case letters or initial caps (the contrast in the height and shape of letters which often, but not always gives greater meaning to long strings of words and follows the traditional writing conventions)? The lack of capital letters, writing in all lower case letters can be rather liberating – in the poetry of e.e. cummings for example. Or in the typings of a cockroach (the tiny fellow pounding out a scroll of verbage, hunched in front of the garbage can containing a cat sniffing a sardine tin in the illustration above) or friend Peter's e-mails.

Archy and Mehitabel were characters Don Marquis concocted in the early 20th century. Mehitabel was an alley cat who'd seen better days (and lives), who balanced hardship against freedom with independence the victor. Archy (who would have typed "archy"), was a poet, considerably more conservative than Mehitabel and also a cockroach – a "persona extraordinaire" of Mr. Marquis' stories (there was some question of earlier bad karma). As a result of Archy's limited physical capacities, striking the shift bar along with a letter on his office mate Don's typewriter – couldn't be done – limiting Archy's verse to all lower case. If e.e. cummings had extremely short fingers, I really can't say. True – physical restrictions or "special" environments often greatly influence creativity (to those inclined), suggesting Don Marquis had something rather interesting going with insects and/or feral cats. I know a little about this subject myself.

I imagine a laptop would have made composition easier for either a typing cockroach or an e.e. cummings. One ponders the state of literature throughout time if laptops had always existed. Can we trace the source of the blogosphere, in part, to the emergence of the computer which makes it so easy to write as we sit in a recliner? At last count over 70 million blogs are being created/in production/exist. laying in wait to be read. - One can only wonder how many blogs are being composed by decendents or relatives of Archy. If you find a blog in all lower case letters...well, I'd start wondering about the creator (not THE creator...but the blog's creator.)

What does the current outpouring of rhetoric mean when someone as significant as Don Marquis (and with him, Archy and Mehitabel), easily one of the most popular humorists and his creations – have faded so completely from view? The man is credited with over 70 printings of his Archy and Mehitabel books in the U.S. (and he wrote other stuff too), a couple dozen more in G.B. and I had trouble finding 3 to bid on on eBay.

Will the ravings of current bloggers fade as completely? Can or should one hope? Why is culture so fickle? Perhaps a few of those 70 million bloggers truly are cockroaches. Can or should one hope?

Do you think it's going to rain?

Weather and Culture Woes

efore I moved back to the country and even after I returned to upstate NY...I could not imagine why so much thinking power was wasted on discussions about the weather...what the forecast was, how the possibility of a good day invited activity, how the cold affected my mother's (and now my) joints, how the hail shattered the tulips, how weather took on personality and invaded our lives like an uninvited guest. The "talk" was extremely tedious.

These days, Global Warming, hopefully creates a place for "weather awareness" within every household. But on a local scale, during my several year initiation back into country life, I wondered...did anyone think about things not tinged by the weather?

Slowly, slowly the country seeped back into my structure as if, as I breathed in cleaner air - I became infected (again) after a long hiatus in warmer (and much dirtier) climes. I came to understand that in moving from a place (NYC) where people were too busy to notice if or when they were walking in puddles or slush or sunshine... that noticing and discussing the rain or snow or the fairness of a day...was part of the good news of country life. Suddenly I had the time to notice more of my physical environment.

Country Madness

Now, these ten years after, in the full bloom of the country madness ...I ponder the next rain, pity the birch's lack of water, irrigate the garden with a timer thing and little dribbley hoses to make sure everyone collects at least a small drink...watch the leaves fall, get the bulbs in the ground (no, not the ones requiring electricity –yes, the ones which will blossom) and anticipate next Spring before Fall is even in full swing (which is, by the way, a topic of debate in the most particular detail in the Yankee world – everyone has an opinion about when the leaves are in peak color) and so on and so on.

the rose cottage backyard, photo credit: j.golin

Nearly everyone around me is totally infected with the beauty and complexity of the ecosystem they live within. In part, this is why country folk (yep, and me) are often obsessed with the weather. We love it. Our perceptions are totally linked to the sun shining or the sky leaking. Here at the rose cottage (the 200 plus year old house I live, work and blog within) we do a lot of stopping to smell "them" (or at least think about smelling them) year in, year out.

Personal history it seems is always about contrasts and anticipation and balance, good days, bad days...the record of our own internal weather systems.

Can we enjoy Fall without glimpsing the future?

photo credit: Winter Oak Leaves Free Photos


On that period of "time held captive between December and March..." *

When first snow appears, when nights are snappy and crisp, air tight, clear...without an iota of pollen or dust or mold.... not an insect, not a molecule of anything but air in the air....with every leaf off, with the needles on the evergreens holding great dollops of white and the skeletons of the surrounding trees drawn in snow...with the brown of the sleeping lawn finally covered in a white down blanket...with little tufts of the garden poking up here and there – heads not quite ready to bend down to the mounds of snow at their feet....with a full or partial moon shining on all of this and etching it on my retinas.....every year I think, "this is the most beautiful sight in the world." Could I give up this beauty – not forgive the earth its need to freeze over and renew itself? No, no, impossible.

Would Robert Frost have written "stopping by woods on a snowy evening" if he had lived anywhere except in New England? And where would we be if he had not?

In the most bitter weather, when I wait and wait to go out and shovel out my paths, when I worry for the feral cats and hope they are in their shelters, when the birds need suet and seed, when the lawn guy who's the snow plow guy in the Winter is long gone and pushed the snow from the end of my driveway...when the warmth of the house is shattered by tiny drafts and cold floors and I am forced to don socks and even shoes...when my joints ache and refuse to bend...the Winter cold is still warmed by the years of happiness it afforded me as a child, as a young adult and even as an older one.

What is it about snow? I rather it snowed than the earth lay bare and frigid – that emptiness I find terribly depressing and dark and unforgiving. Nasty. Edith Wharton's Ethan Frome is cast in the bleak Winter of Massachusetts and paints the picture of what it feels like to function in such a place. For a Yankee, Winter is as valuable as any other seasons if only for the contrast of dark to light or (near) death to life.

But still, brrrrrrr. as the Earth warms unnaturally and our Winters become less severe...there is a part of me that thinks...great! Is that terrible or what? That same part of me eats too many cookies at one sitting, spends money on extravagances that lie in waste or concocts all sorts of other behavior for which I am not proud. I will work tirelessly to effect change to reverse Global Warming (hey, I just bought a hybrid car); I'm a good Al Gore soldier....but in the meantime, is it so awful that my neighbors and I enjoy a little less shoveling, a few less blizzards, and save a little money by using a little less fuel to stay warm?

One's personal emotional contrasts are none-the-less dramatic as black is to white. Can we record the storm more clearly from the day the sun shines or must we be cold to understand snow?

photo credit: leaf in snow, travel.webshots.com

*(again quoted from friend Peter)

c o n t r a s t . b a l a n c e

b a l a n c e . c o n t r a s t

Friend Peter wrote recently (in discussions about why Fall is embraced so heartily in New England – although technically his abode is not in New England but lies instead on the dump of rock and dirt [a terminal moraine] New England's glaciers placed in the Atlantic Ocean a long, long time ago. As a result, Friend Peter lives on New England's soil, but doesn't get included in New England's map. He lives on Long Island, by the way. Much of the North Shore of Long Island, which is part of New York for the geographically illiterate was/is considered part of New England by its inhabitants beginning in the mid 17th century when the first settlements were built. The descendants of those early settlers and their friends still consider the North Shore part of New England.)

Here's what friend Peter had to say: i'll pick one thing of many to mull upon. i was in San Diego once for a trade show; no time to sight see. the weather was fine, but fine in the way that it is always fine. sunny skies need to be framed with clouds and rain. not just for the plants, but for our sense of balance.


Nicely said friend Peter.

Contemplating a friend's (or a stranger's) view of the same things I waffle about daily (and here on this blog)....puts light to shadows I haven't cast myself; becomes - through assimilation - part of the dialog as if this thing we call blog is sitting in my head instead of on my laptop prior to its journey into the cyber jungle.

The view that contrast (or differing opinions) brings added value to the shape of an idea, of a place, of a phenomenon (like the weather or this blog), even of time itself (like a season) – will never find argument with me – big believer in contrast and shades of gray. Big believer in balance too. Mine is a visual perspective and its basic principles – like balance and contrast are part of how I view the world. However, oddly, as a result, how I then am viewed (or more precisely – reviewed, ) is the one out of kilter, a little out of step, on the path less followed, etc.

the leaves we love

in case you don't notice...for my graphic artist colleagues and others, this is a Pantone color guide to sugar maple fall leaves.


Juicy.

Sugar Maples

The Sugar Maples offer the most spectacular colors in Fall. I am partial to the nearly iridescent reds to orange that shimmer in the hills., www.mapleorchardfarms.com.

Last Fall, near Lee, MA. I drove up into the Berkshire hills through Beartown State Forest.

I parked at the side of the road at a little rest stop next to a 35 acre lake named Benedict Pond. The Sugar Maples and other trees that lined the water bank and hill on the other side of the lake were reflected in the water with such incredible clarity and intensity – reality was jeopardized. The water glimmered me into submission. It was that beautiful. I was forced to choose the reflection over the trees themselves. Exiting that place left me grateful and denied simultaneously – knowing the image would no longer be in front of my

eyes and it's memory forever a thought without the picture. But mine, nonetheless.


Color/Collection/Connections

Around my home, as Fall waves its artifacts around me, I go about collecting the most spectacular leaves – as if any one could be prettier than the next. I am rather fussy about who is chosen and who is left behind. Each leaf tenders a sophisticated abstraction beyond the skills of the best expressionists.

I place each masterpiece in a very old wooden bowl that sits in the pride of place on my long country tiger maple table. The bowl has seen years and years of service. My great aunt Marcia used this bowl on her farm table to chop and mince the ingredients of her life. She used the long curved broad blade that still sits in the bowl. The bowl was used so long and so well that it has places in its base where it's worn thin and through. The leaves I place over this scar are sadly, within a day, faded and twisted upon themselves.

My cats find the dry, crumbling leaves most acceptable and steal them during the long, quiet night of Columbia County, NY. Teddy and Naboo chase the leaves about the kitchen floor and attempt, like Wilbur and Orville, to persuade them to fly once more before they shatter. Every morning I find my Sugar Maples' end of season dreams in broken fragments on my kitchen floor.

My inability to capture the colors of Fall in its true objects is always a disappointment. Two years ago I pressed leaves in wax paper just as my mother taught me long ago. The trick is to iron the top and bottom sheets of waxed paper through plain paper with a hot steam iron without burning the paper or the leaves. The process allows the wax to transfer from its paper sleeve and melt around each leaf, coating its surface and sending warm, sweet aromas throughout the kitchen. When the remains of the waxed paper backing is peeled away, the leaf remains intact – encased like a funereal body without soul but allowing preservation of near life-like form for a few additional days.

Fall is the earth's system to prepare for the long sleep with the promise of rebirth merely months away. Is there any wonder the same concepts have been exploited for thousands of years to eliminate human fears regarding our ultimate and eventual big sleep?

For a lifetime I have been briefly in possession of the colors of Fall; the snippets of technicolor time give further meaning to the lush complexity of existence.

Fall in New England

This year Fall has arrived quickly, as if someone forgot it is supposed to happen at this time of year and quickly accelerated events to accommodate the season – dropping temperatures and coloring leaves and adding snap to the air.

On a drive to Bennington, Vermont about ten days ago, only minor splotches of color were dabbed on the hills. By a week later, the hills (the Taconic and Berkshire Mountains) had succumbed to serious coloring. Strangely trees are dropping their leaves nearly as soon as they've changed from green to rust, gold, reds or some combination. The lawn is already littered catching wonderful colors on the too long grass. Within a day or two, the colors fade and brown, curl and begin to crumble. Apparently early leaf dropping is due to drought. Some lesser lucky trees had brown leaves which fell to the earth in mid Summer. Hopefully, they all will survive to see another Spring.

In living in the North East, Fall is a season which every Yankee anticipates and enjoys. Perhaps our collective dread of the impending cold, wind, snow and freezing Winter temperatures is part of what makes this time of year all the more significant. It's hard to say. But many of us could not live here (or anywhere else) without an annual downsizing of the long days of Summer into a prolonged and beautiful Fall. We count on it to nourish us until Spring. It's said a true Yankee's blood is part orange, gold, rust and red.

The leaf peeping trade depends on the colors of Fall invading our landscapes. As wood stoves begin to send their woody smells into the air, and the pick-ur-own apples signs go up at the orchards, and the country stores begin to offer cinnamon spiced hot cider, fresh apple pie, apple butter and apple sauce...it is impossible to not stop and sample the fruits of the countryside. The bonus is the jams and jellies and maple syrup and maple fudge and apple donuts...with gourds and pumpkins and mums and late sweet corn and fresh large beefsteak tomatoes and heads of garlic nearly as large. The harvest is never so sweet as when you can chat with the farmers who are supplying your table.

Quintessential New England towns such as Stockbridge, Mass, just over the state line offer themselves as what a proper village should look like. Its Red Lion Inn offers dark orange butternut squash soup this time of year to dining rooms full of appreciative day trippers. If you drive in any direction through the lesser known villages of Berkshire County, MA or Columbia County, NY or North to Bennington, VT, one can see why generations of hearty souls have clung to this land. It's spectacular in Fall.

Global Warming

The lesser temperatures of our Winters (the effect of Global Warming) are beginning to harm the Sugar Maples of New England. Without the extremes of temperature, the sap of the maples will not flow and an entire industry is in jeopardy as well as the lives of the trees themselves. Could there be a proper Fall if the Maples began to die out? Would the collective heart of New England be broken? The rusts of the Oaks and the golds of the Ashes and Birches are nothing without the reds and oranges of the Maples. I worry for my old sugar maples who provide shelter and have lined the dirt road for the past hundred and fifty years.

If you could save the colors of New England by turning off a few lights in your home...or coordinating errands to use less fossil fuel...wouldn't you do it?