Letting The Silence Out
August 26, 2002
Autumn has arrived, regardless of what the calendar may say. A welcome silence has entered the house. My three children and thousands of others in this and neighboring counties have headed back to their studies. My wife also is away, busy on the other side of the desk, student-teaching fifth grade in Thurmont.
My children were ready to go, even though they each had a pleasant, busy summer. They needed no second notice to rise and ready themselves. In fact, they set their own alarms. My son even made his own lunch. All three headed out the door with a light step and a smile. My wife left likewise, though her smile hid more nerves than the others.
Thus far, I have used the day to run errands, including a stop at Emmitsburg. Winding my way back on Route 77 (aka Middleburg Road), I was surprised to see a substantial flock of blackbirds assembled on the telephone wire. There must have been at least a couple hundred, sitting in a long single-file row, neatly spaced, each bird erect – like the battle line of some nineteenth century army. Maybe a hundred more were flying about, arcing, swooping and turning in a perfect unity of movement that is feebly imitated in air shows featuring human pilots. Though I enjoyed the acrobatics, I thought it was a little early for blackbirds to be flocking together. I suppose they are following instinct. Or perhaps they were inspired to congregate when they saw the buses out this morning.
Annie, our rat terrier, is resting quietly somewhere in the house – probably in her favorite place, our youngest daughter’s pillow. When my wife is the one home alone, the dog follows her everywhere and, if possible, establishes direct bodily contact. Evidently, Annie and I have a more secure relationship. She counts on me for certain things, like her noon and 5 p.m. walks, but is otherwise neither clingy nor demanding.
On our noon walk today, Annie and I circled the garden as we always do. It shows clear signs of rejuvenation since the two inches of rain last Friday night. I picked three tomatoes and noticed the pepper plants were positively Pentecostal, lifting leaves heavenward again after a long droop.
My chief source of pride in the garden this year, other than the row and a half of Yukon Gold potatoes that have been dug and are nearly all consumed, is the one hill of bush pumpkins. Since they were planted late, I have my fingers crossed against an early frost. If we get to the 1st of October without zeroing out on the Celsius scale, I should be able to harvest the crop I hope for. I am hopeful; it is a prerequisite for gardening. I’ve managed to nurse the plants through the drought, and have three shiny, green pumpkins to show for my efforts. The largest is impressive for the variety and beginning to lighten, though I’ve detected no hint of orange. The two smaller ones are darker, and swelling rapidly like the belly of a pregnant woman in the eighth month.
Just a moment ago, my son opened the door and let the silence out. Annie did not rouse. I guess I’ll go upstairs and see how his day went.
Autumn has arrived, regardless of what the calendar may say. A welcome silence has entered the house. My three children and thousands of others in this and neighboring counties have headed back to their studies. My wife also is away, busy on the other side of the desk, student-teaching fifth grade in Thurmont.
My children were ready to go, even though they each had a pleasant, busy summer. They needed no second notice to rise and ready themselves. In fact, they set their own alarms. My son even made his own lunch. All three headed out the door with a light step and a smile. My wife left likewise, though her smile hid more nerves than the others.
Thus far, I have used the day to run errands, including a stop at Emmitsburg. Winding my way back on Route 77 (aka Middleburg Road), I was surprised to see a substantial flock of blackbirds assembled on the telephone wire. There must have been at least a couple hundred, sitting in a long single-file row, neatly spaced, each bird erect – like the battle line of some nineteenth century army. Maybe a hundred more were flying about, arcing, swooping and turning in a perfect unity of movement that is feebly imitated in air shows featuring human pilots. Though I enjoyed the acrobatics, I thought it was a little early for blackbirds to be flocking together. I suppose they are following instinct. Or perhaps they were inspired to congregate when they saw the buses out this morning.
Annie, our rat terrier, is resting quietly somewhere in the house – probably in her favorite place, our youngest daughter’s pillow. When my wife is the one home alone, the dog follows her everywhere and, if possible, establishes direct bodily contact. Evidently, Annie and I have a more secure relationship. She counts on me for certain things, like her noon and 5 p.m. walks, but is otherwise neither clingy nor demanding.
On our noon walk today, Annie and I circled the garden as we always do. It shows clear signs of rejuvenation since the two inches of rain last Friday night. I picked three tomatoes and noticed the pepper plants were positively Pentecostal, lifting leaves heavenward again after a long droop.
My chief source of pride in the garden this year, other than the row and a half of Yukon Gold potatoes that have been dug and are nearly all consumed, is the one hill of bush pumpkins. Since they were planted late, I have my fingers crossed against an early frost. If we get to the 1st of October without zeroing out on the Celsius scale, I should be able to harvest the crop I hope for. I am hopeful; it is a prerequisite for gardening. I’ve managed to nurse the plants through the drought, and have three shiny, green pumpkins to show for my efforts. The largest is impressive for the variety and beginning to lighten, though I’ve detected no hint of orange. The two smaller ones are darker, and swelling rapidly like the belly of a pregnant woman in the eighth month.
Just a moment ago, my son opened the door and let the silence out. Annie did not rouse. I guess I’ll go upstairs and see how his day went.
posted by Jimbo | 3:58 PM
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