Personal Traits of the Farmer
February 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
Success is most easily acquired in the line of work one loves best; and the first problem is to get into that character of work as soon as possible. Men cannot always advantageously estimate their own abilities, but so far as possible, one should engage in the occupation which he likes and for which he is best fitted by nature, experience and training. It is important for the young man to reach his decision as early as possible. While men are sometimes quite successful with no particular qualifications except strength and industry, this is no argument that they would not have succeeded even better with knowledge and the application of science in their occupation. A good executive may have fair success without doing manual work, but in farming the highest success is usually attained by those who combine executive ability with labor. Scientific knowledge, experience, business ability, manual and mechanical skill, and hard work make a combination that is successful.
-Frank D. Gardner, Traditional American Farming Techniques (originally published in 1916 as Successful Farming)
And this, our life
January 25, 2012 § 2 Comments
And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
-William Shakespeare, As You Like It
Thoughts on dirt
January 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
I have just started William Bryant Logan’s book Dirt: The Ecstatic Skin of the Earth and am already getting caught up in a sense of wonder and gratitude. This bodes well! This is the sort of thing we reader-types live for. Here’s an excerpt from the prologue:
How can I stand on the ground every day and not feel its power? How can I live my life stepping on this stuff and not wonder at it? […]
Recently, I have been reading Exodus, wondering about Moses and the burning bush. Moses, it is written, “turns aside to see a wonder,” a bush that burns but is not consumed. Throughout my life, I had thought this a ridiculous passage. Why should God get Moses’ attention by such outlandish means? I mean, why couldn’t He just have boomed, “Hey, Moses!” the way He would later call to the great king, “Hey, Samuel!”
Now I know why. The truth, when really perceived and not simply described, is always a wonder. Moses does not see a technicolor fantasy. He sees the bush as it really is. He sees the bush as all bushes actually are.
There is in biology a formula called, “the equation of burning.” It is one of the fundamental pair of equations by which all organic life subsists. The other one, “the equation of photosynthesis,” describes the way the plants make foods out of sunlight, carbon dioxide, and water. The equation of burning describes how plants (and animals) unlock the stored sunlight and turn it into the heat energy that fuels their motion, their feeling, their thought, or whatever their living consists of.
All that is living burns. This is the fundamental fact of nature. And Moses saw it with his two eyes, directly. That glimpse of the real world–of the world as it is known to God–is not a world of isolate things, but of processes in concert.
God tells Moses, “Take off your shoes, because the ground where you are standing is holy ground.” He is asking Moses to experience in his own body what the burning bush experiences: a living connection between heaven and earth, the life that stretches out like taffy between our father the sun and our mother the earth. If you do not believe this, take off your shoes and stand in the grass or in the sand or in the dirt.
A January poem
January 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
twinkling
snow: still and white.
beyond the roar and slush of the street,
past the fence, a pasture. blanketed.
four chocolate black horses
bend their necks to nuzzle for grass.
the sky grows night blue behind them.
and in a moment I am not in
this car, not post-holiday gray,
but brushing wet velvet noses,
a little girl with periwinkle mittens
who knows, after all, that
something so beautiful
must be fraught with magic.
An excerpt, to entice you further
January 7, 2012 § Leave a comment
So the spell of the West, cast already by Mr. Grey, settled about Swede like a thrown loop. There’s magic in tack, as anyone knows who has been to horse sales, and a rubbed saddled, unexpected and pulled from nowhere, owns an allure only dolts resist. Swede’s was a double-rigged Texan with mohair cinches, tooled Mexican patterns on fender and skirt, and a hemp-worn pommel. It was well used, which I believe gave all our imaginations a pleasing slap, and it had also arrived quixotically. Davy had bought it off a farmer who’d bought it off a migrant laborer who’d traded his horse for a windbroke Dodge truck on a dirt road north of Austin; the migrant had said good-bye to his loyal beast but kept the saddle out of sentiment. Days later under northern skies he understood that its presence in the pickup only made him heartsick and he unloaded it cheap to the farmer, who, though confused by Spanish, understood burdens and the need to escape them.
All this Davy told us with Swede astride the saddle in her bedroom floor. Davy’s work had brought the thing back to near perfection; the smell of soaped leather, which is like that of good health, rose around us. It was flawed only in the cantle, where the leather had split and pulled apart. Davy acknowledged with frustration that this must’ve happened years ago and he was unable to mend it. “But it doesn’t matter for riding,” he said.
“That’s true,” Swede said practically, just as if there were a pony out waiting in the yard.
Well, the day defined extravagance. Though wisdom counsels against yanking out all stops, Swede did seem joyously forgetful of recent evils, and we kept the momentum as long as we could: waffles for breakfast, sugar lumps dipped in saucers of coffee. I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, the air gold and so clean it quivers.
– Leif Enger, Peace Like a River
Leif Enger and the outlaw journeys
January 7, 2012 § 1 Comment
I must put in a word for Leif Enger. Not as if he needs a word put in for him, by me; his debut novel, Peace Like a River, established itself as a bestseller years ago. I actually am reading this one second – as many times as I stumbled across the book while going to college, working in a bookstore, generally hanging with literary sorts – I didn’t, for some reason, feel the need to dive in with everyone else. (Sometimes I am contrary and refuse to read what is most popular. I did the same with Angela’s Ashes. Years later I picked it up and scarfed it down with the right combination of sorrow and appreciation.)
Enger drew me in, instead, with So Brave, Young, and Handsome, a novel which, you might guess, got me with its title. But it wasn’t about dashing young cowboys as I suspected on first glance. Instead it follows a postman, a family man named Monte Becket who’s had a one-hit wonder of a book and is trying, and failing, to write another. He happens to meet an older, gentle, drifter of a man who turns out to be a former outlaw. And this man has a dream, and it is of the wife of his youth, and he feels that he needs to go and find her and apologize for the past. So our postman-narrator gets invited to accompany him, and what adventures follow!
As much as the plot is rollicking and suspenseful enough that it tugs you along, what I (having spent most of my twenties trying to understand and practice the craft of writing) kept feeling so terribly happy about were two other things: (1) that his characters are colorful, believable, unique, and endearing – you want to spend time with them; and (2) that he uses language with such understated skill as he goes about unfolding his story. Beautiful, as one who has read and listened and practiced and revised extensively can make a story – can structure phrases, sentences, and moments. All throughout I would find myself pausing and even catching my breath, because that is what happens when something goes beyond what you expect, even when you have high expectations, with the deftness and subtlety of the perfect extra detail, the unexpected observation.
So I went to the horse barn raving about So Brave, Young, and Handsome. My boss was about to go off for a trip and needed something to read, and in the airport she found Enger’s other book, Peace Like a River. She sent me a text after skimming the first few pages, telling me how excited she was to read it; when I ran into her next the first thing she said to me was, “Love the book!” And when she finished she lent it to me. And now I am reading with the same kind of reaction I had to the first – hunger for the story, gladness to be reading, thankfulness for the kinds of writers who remain true to their art and yet, somehow, have also managed to make their work accessible to the general public (a feat that seems to be trickier than one would hope, and a source of frustration for many writers, who are torn between writing something with meaning or writing something that will sell). This story follows a boy named Reuben, and his sister and father, as they head West looking for the brother and son who has become a 20th century outlaw. I love this family. I want to know them. I feel as if I do.
Read his books! That’s all I’m saying.
Here are links to where you can find them, or your library likely has them:
P.S. He’s a Minnesota writer. Which is even better.
What is to come?
January 6, 2012 § 5 Comments
The dogs are wrestling in the middle of the floor. I have Peace Like A River propped open on my right, next to Miss T’s leash, next to an almost-done scarf, on top of my favorite quilt, on top of the puppy’s kennel. On my left are two sweaters that got stripped off at some point yesterday, the hot day, the non-January day. And I am in the middle of these things, in sweats, in need of a shower, lingering yet with my half-drank cup of coffee.
This is a Friday when I am fending off anxiety. What is to come? Where I will live in February is undetermined. How I will pay my bills is uncertain. Transition, again, stares me in the face. Such is life for this girl, and has been for a long time. Partly my own fault, partly just the way things have happened.
But what unfolds in the next few weeks may interrupt this pattern. There may be settledness at last. I must say that I have found it a strengthening thing to fly by the seat of my pants. The years from high school graduation until now have brought about a series of events to cure shyness and timidity. They have drawn out bravery, confidence, and risk-taking, or at least sometimes the appearance of these things. There is truth to the statement Fake it till you make it. I am that proof, for I have pretended to be outgoing, unafraid, and competent so often when inside I was quivering with fear, until somewhere the pretending became reality. And with that, a bit of surprise at one’s self – and a bit of satisfaction.
Still, I have my moments of anxiety, of trepidation, of simply being tired. My life doesn’t look like so many others along the American timeline, and there are those who would criticize me for it. And I can criticize myself for it, but then, what good does that do? Every step along the way offers a chance to learn. Every place and position presents a chance for living one’s beliefs. These are small but important victories.
Today. It is today. The tomorrows will come, one after another, and I will work through the decisions they present as I always have, and I will hope to make the right choices – or if I make the wrong ones, that somehow they work around towards being the right ones.
Breathe deep, self. To the rest of you – stay tuned! Interesting things are sure to happen.
Riding the Neighbors’ Horses – Ebook Release!
December 13, 2011 § 8 Comments
Hey everyone! My juvenile fiction novel is available as an ebook as of today!
You can purchase it here:
The book will also be available in hard copy, hopefully later this month or early next year. Updates and excerpts to come!
Synopsis:
When twelve-year-old Susan Abbot befriends Nan and Ralph Whiting, the children of the horse trainer down the road, she has the chance to ride some of the best horses in Minnesota. But her desire to ride conflicts with her father’s distrust of horses – and the next-door neighbors who own them. In a golden 1920s summer, Susan reaches for independence, and finds she must weigh her relationships alongside her dreams.
On tamaracks, and late fall
November 30, 2011 § 2 Comments
The leaves are gone from the hillside and the glory of the red maple and of the yellow aspen and birch is strewn upon the ground. Only in the protected swamps is there any color, the smoky gold of the tamaracks. A week ago those trees were yellow, but now they are dusty and tarnished. These are days of quietly falling needles when after each breath of wind the air is smoky with their drift.
-Sigurd F. Olson, Into the Singing Wilderness
Small comforts
November 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
The November issue of Country Living – British Edition is in my house, with features like “Cosy Knits for Autumn Nights” and “Decorating Ideas for Rustic Rooms.” This room isn’t quite rustic, but everything has been cleaned and put in its place, and there is that peace of a well-organized home. I have finished one scarf (all knit stitch) and am nearly finishing another (all purl stitch). Such satisfaction comes with learning a new skill! And it has been good to remember how to learn, not expecting perfection but allowing yourself mistakes and time.
As I sit on my roommate’s couch with my computer and plans for tracking down that Right Job, and smile occasionally about how tricky life can be – still there are these things. These home comforts.
Dear readers! What are some of your home comforts? Comment on this post and you will be entered into a drawing to receive your own copy of Country Living British Edition – the December issue!
Also, the “Where do you create?” photo drive is still going on! Send a photo of where you create and you’ll receive a packet of blue pumpkin seeds as well as a chance to win a copy of Storey’s Country Wisdom Almanac!
Kinds of Honey 