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“Quality of Life, Spirit of Place”

 

Vermont Views Magazine

Home Page

New Features, Articles & Columns


Urban Naturalist

Nighthawks

Lloyd Graf


SCREENplay

Wind River

Lawrence Klepp


Old Lady Blog

A Cross By The Sea

Toni Ortner


Love In Action

A Man Named Shin

Elizabeth Hill


Guest Article

Highland Fling

A series of articles, part 3

Tyndrum

Alan Rayner


Meanderings

Full Circle Meander

Charles Monette


Selected Letters

A Rational Solution to our Dilemma in Afghanistan.

Offie Wortham


An A-musing Life

Charlottesville

The Heart of the Serpent

Nanci Bern


Monkey’s Cloak

Malvern Hill

Charles Monette


SCREENplay

Dunkirk

Lawrence Klepp


Open Mind

So Who Came

To Your Funeral?

Offie Wortham


Monkey’s Cloak

Cicero’s Hands

Mike Murray


Open Mind

2030 — a short story

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

How To Fold A Presby Cap

Elizabeth Hill


Meanderings

A July summer’s midday morn

Charles Monette


in between

Reflection

Julia Ferarri


An A-musing Life

The Art of Flight

Nanci Bern


Vermont Diary

For The Birds


Special Feature

Malory Lake 1950-2017

An appreciation


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Jumping Through Time

in My Life

Jeri Rose


Love In Action

Baby Buddha

Elizabeth Hill


Open Mind

A Transcultural Awareness Experience

Offie Wortham


Old Lady Blog

A Blackbird with Snow Covered Red Hills 1946

for Georgia O’Keefe

Toni Ortner


Monkey’s Cloak

overflowingly so

Charles Monette


The First Glass

John Dante’s Inferno,

A Playboy’s Life -

by Anthony Valerio

Vincent Panella


Love In Action

From the Hands

of Our Fathers

Elizabeth Hill


As I Please

The Black Place II 1944

Georgia O’Keefe

Toni Ortner


SCREENplay

Their Finest

Lawrence Klepp


As I Please

The Langlois Bridge at Arles, 1888

Charles Monette


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Rights and privileges 

Jeri Rose


Open Mind

Does Lifestyle Matter more than Race?

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

Robin in the rain

Elizabeth Hill


As I Please

Bansky

Robert Oeser


The First Glass

Luck

Vincent Panella


Vermont Diary

Change of Season


Selected Letters

Immigrants in Vermont

Philip B. Scott, Governor


Old Lady Blog

The language I speak

is a language of grief

Toni Ortner


As I Please

Homage to Milton Avery

Elizabeth Hill


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Tarnished Gold

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

Other voices

Charles Monette


SCREENplay

Elle

Lawrence Klepp


An A-musing Life

The Great Exodus-Salamanders and Passover Crossings

Nanci Bern


An A-musing Life

One Sip at a Time

Nanci Bern


Love In Action

This Land

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

The British Aren’t Coming — Alas


Open Mind

But The Goalposts Keep Moving!

Offie Wortham


Meanderings

‘Beware the ides of March’

Charles Monette


Write On!

Grey Tower

Phil Innes


The First Glass

Writing like a Painter

Vincent Panella


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Racism vs Sexism

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

Ice floes slow

Charles Monette


Urban Naturalist

The Sanctuary in Late Winter:

a Long-Deferred Visit to Hogle Offers Rewards and Raises Concerns

— part 2 —

Lloyd Graf


Love In Action

Mein Yertle

Elizabeth Hill


SCREENplay

Lion

Lawrence Klepp


Urban Naturalist

The Sanctuary in Late Winter:

a Long-Deferred Visit to Hogle Offers Rewards and Raises Concerns

— part 1 —

Lloyd Graf


100 Years Ago

Births Jan-Jun 1917


With Prejudice

With Prejudice — 4 topics

Elizabeth Hill


O Citoyen!

Four Pennies

Robert Oeser


With Prejudice

Flesh of My Flesh:  Reflections on Prejudice & Love

Shanta Lee Gander


With Prejudice

Finding America

Vincent Panella


Story Page

Matinicus The Marvelous Cat

MM Kizi


Meanderings

White as Snow

Charles Monette


Love In Action

People Power in Pink

Elizabeth Hill


Open Mind

Populism

Offie Wortham


Meanderings

White Buffalo in the Sky

Charles Monette


Monkey’s Cloak

Venus Smiled

Charles Monette


An A-musing Life

A resolute spirit

Nanci Bern


StudioTWO

The Owens


The First Glass

For the Birds

Vincent Panella


Chess

“The Mating Game”

Phil Innes


Overheard

Literacy

part 1, the USA


Love In Action

New Year’s Reflections on

“Charlotte’s Web”

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

Spiritual Theft in the

Year of the Monkey


SCREENplay

Manchester by the Sea

Lawrence Klepp


Meanderings

White Mountain

Charles Monette


The First Glass

San Diego, Ocean Beach – November 17, 2016

Vincent Panella


SCREENplay

Allied

Lawrence Klepp


Monkey’s Cloak

Oh, Holidays

Nanci Bern


Old Lady Blog

Gone/ All Gone

Toni Ortner


An A-musing Life

Mushroom Soup with John

Nanci Bern


in between

FEAR

Julia Ferarri


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Racism vs Sexism

Jeri Rose


Meanderings

Last leaves leaving

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Braveheart

Elizabeth Hill


Urban Naturalist

Hogle in Fall:

a Subdued Sanctuary Hunkers Down for Winter

Lloyd Graf


Vermont Diary

Quality of Life


An A-musing Life

11/12 and Counting

Nanci Bern


World & US Energy News

Nov 15 Just one day in the energy life of the planet

George Harvey


Meanderings

As if

Charles Monette


Open Mind

What Will Become Of The Trump Faithful?

Offie Wortham


Monkey’s Cloak

Clouds

Charles Monette


Write On!

Castle Dor


Vermont Diary

Words or Deeds


SCREENplay

Sully

Lawrence Klepp


Love In Action

Living in the Twilight Zone

Elizabeth Hill


100 Years Ago

Births

in 1916


Chess

Susan Polgar:

Little Known Feminist Icon

Alicia Colon


Natural Inclusivity

What is ‘Natural’ Science?

Alan Rayner


Meanderings

Evil frog monsters

Charles Monette


SCREENplay

The Girl on the Train

Lawrence Klepp


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Who Sleeps Daily in S.C.?

&

S.C. City Council

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

Why just now

Charles Monette


in between

After a Fire Puja

Julia Ferarri


Vermont Diary

Out of the closet


Old Lady Blog

LESBOS, GREECE

Toni Ortner


The First Glass

Journal Entry –

October 3, 2016

Vincent Panella


Meanderings

Another way up

Black Mountain

Charles Monette


SCREENplay

The Light Between Oceans

Lawrence Klepp


Love In Action

Déjà Vu at Asteroid Chasm

Elizabeth Hill


SCREENplay

Café Society

Lawrence Klepp


An A-musing Life

A Snow Bunny in Summer

Nanci Bern


Meanderings

The mountain was soft

Charles Monette


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Malaise

Jeri Rose


Meanderings

Black Mountain

Charles Monette


Vermont Diary

Out of time


The First Glass

Who Art In : Moment : Youth

Vincent Panella


Urban Naturalist

THE HOGLE PANORAMA

Lloyd Graf


Love In Action

The Pony Man

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

Lots of words to it


Monkey’s Cloak

Beyond the pale

Charles Monette


Monkey’s Cloak

North York Moods

A series of observations and poems by Alan Rayner, part 7

‘Bridestones’


Love In Action

“The Missionary of Water”

Dr. Masaru Emoto

Elizabeth Hill


Selected Letters

Marbles

Offie Wortham


Old Lady Blog

from a forthcoming work...

Toni Ortner


in between

A QUIET RAIN FALLS

Julia Ferarri


Open Mind

The power of “Instant” News in producing stress and anxiety

Offie Wortham


An A-musing Life

Frost in the Summer

Nanci Bern


Vermont Diary

Birthday boy


Love In Action

Neptune and Jupiter

Elizabeth Hill


Monkey’s Cloak

North York Moods

A series of poems

by Alan Rayner, part 5

Howard’s Castle


Selected Letters

In Memoriam

Dorothy M. Rice, 1919 - 2016


Open Mind

Malcolm and Ali

Offie Wortham


Vermont Diary

SHOCK of the Present


Open Mind

Can we bite the bullet until after November?

Offie Wortham


Monkey’s Cloak

SHAVUOT

Nanci Bern


Monkey’s Cloak

five directions, five fingers, five roots

Charles Monette


Vermont Diary

US Politics for Forns from Yurp [part deux]


Monkey’s Cloak

UP NORTH

Phil Innes


Write On!

Women of the Mounds

Charles Monette


Open Mind

Colleges where your child can earn a Degree for Free

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

SEND IN THE CLOWNS

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

Ticks and Tourism


World & US Energy News

Just one day’s news

in early May

George Harvey


Old Lady Blog

Lights out or the weather of the apocalypse

Toni Ortner


Write On!

Daniel Berrigan

Charles Monette


Vermont Diary

Over the Mountain


Love In Action

The First Lady of the World

Elizabeth Hill


Monkey’s Cloak

May I

Charles Monette


Vermont Diary

Is the experiment with republics now over?


Post Oil Solutions

Tipping Point

Tim Stevenson


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

“How Drumpf wins”

Jeri Rose


Vermont Diary

WEIRD WYOMING — A LETTER TO ENGLAND


OVERHEARD

O say can you see...

A test severe of on-line language translators


Vermont Diary

QUINTISH


Love In Action

THE DANCING FOOLS

Elizabeth Hill


REAL FOOD !

Parsnip Soup


Vermont Diary

PC, Euphemisms, including death and toilets


Urban Naturalist

AMPHIBIANS AND OTHER CRITTERS COPE WITH EQUINOCTAL CONFUSION

Lloyd Graf


Selected Letters

Tennessee Tensions

Rob Mitchell


Vermont Diary

Couple pointers

for President Trump


Old Lady Blog

Call from a Scientologist friend

Toni Ortner


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

The Hinge of Perception

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

Bird of transcendence

Matti Salminen


Vermont Diary

FLIGHT PATH OPTIONS


Monkey’s Cloak

Tibetan dream song

Charles Monette


in between

One hundred and twenty six years

Julia Ferarri


CURIOUS TOPICS

Gull Summit — Prime Minister concerned over Hitchcockian behavior


View From A Bridge

Golgonooza

Brian D. Cohen


Love In Action

SUMMER, 1947

Elizabeth Hill


Weekly Feature

In conversation with

Archer Mayor


Overheard

“REVENANT”

Which turns out to be very old


Overheard

Honkie Dilemma

A quiz


100 Years Ago

Major Literary Events


Monkey’s Cloak

Einstein’s Eyes

Charles Monette


Chess

The Silence of the Pawns

Paul Truong


100 Years Ago

A chronological overview of the year 1916


Natural Inclusivity

A new understanding of the evolutionary kinship of all life on Earth.

Alan Rayner


Vermont Diary

Featuring the numbers 7, 40, 911, 12, respectively


Write On!

Faery Stories 6,000 years old


World & US Energy News

Just one day’s news

in early February

George Harvey


Vermont Diary

Paint, peeling; plus more news of White Men


Monkey’s Cloak

Momentarily

Charles Monette


Love In Action

HOME

Elizabeth Hill


Urban Naturalist

Season of the Fox [part 3 of 3]

Lloyd Graf


in between

“There comes a moment in life when the dead outnumber the living.”

Julia Ferarri


CURIOUS TOPICS

No screaming — we are the police!


Open Mind

“Who would Dr. King support in 2016?”

Offie Wortham


Monkey’s Cloak

Entering a moonlit forest

Charles Monette


Chess

Saudi’s, Satan and so on


Vermont Diary

The British Aren’t Coming


World & US Energy News

Just one days news in the life of the planet

George Harvey


CURIOUS TOPICS

We shouldn’t laugh


Selected Letters

Robert Oeser with Fire Chief Mike Bucossi


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Attempts at Transport

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

What Do We Want?

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

Awoke in the starless hour

Charles Monette


CURIOUS TOPICS

All washed up — Global trash


Monkey’s Cloak

Okay, we’ve looked there

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Reflections on Grandpa Ross Turning The House

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

A strange accounting


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Inklings of Immortality

Jeri Rose


Curious Topics

Raining Cats and Dogs

& Jack the Psycho Rabbit


Vermont Diary

Come to think of it


Vermont Diary

Notes from underground


An A-musing Life

The Hebrew Month of Kislev and Chanukah

Nanci Bern


Old Lady Blog

Omyra Sanchez

Toni Ortner


REAL FOOD !

Secret History of the Pasty


Monkey’s Cloak

Looking back dark

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Dear England, Please Send Me A Redheaded Boy

Elizabeth Hill


Write On!

Castle Freeman, Jr. 

The Devil in the Valley.

A review by Laura C. Stevenson


Vermont Diary

Hunger’s Ground-Zero

in Our Town


Monkey’s Cloak

The Back-up Bird

Charles Monette


Guest Article

The Angels of Reinca

A Compleat Graphic Novel Story

M.M. Kizi


Chess

Madonna vs. Julia Roberts

and other matches


Vermont Diary

On Aggression


Write On!

Singing with Bobby Fischer

Patti Smith


Urban Naturalist

Introducing...

Lloyd Graf


Selected Letters

Qi Gong on Black Mountain

Ken Masters


Old Lady Blog

Strike out

Toni Ortner


Love in Action

“All is Very, Very Well.” ~Eileen Caddy

Elizabeth Hill


An A-musing Life

Draped in Time

Nanci Bern


Open Mind

The New Israel

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

Boy With Many Hats

Elizabeth Hill


OVERHEARD

Have no truck with


An A-musing Life

A Penne for your thoughts

Nanci Bern


Vermont Diary

Something wonderful just happened


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

The Incense of magic

Jeri Rose


Chess

Review of The Immortal Game: A history of chess

Lawrence Klepp


in between

Developing trust

Julia Ferarri


Love In Action

The Language of Form

Elizabeth Hill


Studio3

Strolling with Bernie

Photographic Essay





Vermont Views Magazine


A unique community supported cultural magazine exploring Quality of Life and Spirit of Place in our bio-region, with extraordinary photographs, 22 regular columnists plus feature articles, galleries & essays, new articles and photos every day. 100s more articles in the Archive.






Contact the magazine HERE


Major Sponsors


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"The Blind Masseur"

 

In Passing

publisher’s notes

on current contributions

with extracts





Lloyd Graf

Nighthawks

Urban Naturalist




Winged bug zappers of the Goatsucker persuasion help usher in the Fall  migratory season while throwing a scare into Hogle Sanctuary's insects.


Greetings from a somewhat lapsed Vermont Views' nature contributor.  I last weighed in as Urban Naturalist a half-year ago to report end-of-winter stirrings as wildlife returned to Brattleboro's Hogle Sanctuary amid major trans-boardwalk flooding, 11th hour ice fishing, and seemingly ominous real estate signage near the Eaton Ave Sanctuary entrance. 


I've continued to visit the Sanctuary semi-regularly since that posting, dashing off copious field notes about sightings, but not managing to file completed stories.   The reasons for my siege of writer's block fall under the dreary umbrella of life-stage challenges, residential move-associated fatigue and old fashioned neurotic procrastination.  I offer a crestfallen “mea culpa” and the assurance that my love of subject matter and desire to share experiences with you have not waned in the least.  


I'm writing now in response to an unexpected and highly evocative Labor Day weekend  aerial visitation by a squadron of  Common (so-called) Nighthawks.   For an all-too brief span of days these endearingly zany winged acrobats staged dusk air shows over Hogle Sanctuary's waters and the Eaton Ave/Putney RD corridor.  Beyond entertainment value,  the nighthawk visit was also a probable harbinger of the Fall migratory season, and it brought my urban naturalist past (in which nighthawks galore plied their trade around the city medical centers where I plied mine) into register with my recent focus on the less megalopolitan (sic) environs of Hogle Sanctuary. 


Read the entire article >>>>



Lawrence Klepp

Wind River

SCREENplay




Wind River is a good suspense movie pervaded by an elegiac mood and an unforgiving landscape, the wintry, mountainous landscape of the Wind River Indian Reservation in Wyoming. The suspense starts right away, with a dark-haired teenage girl (Kelsey Asbille) seen running barefoot through the snow at night, clearly running for her life, but who or what she’s running from isn’t shown.


Cory Lambert (Jeremy Renner), a solidly built, laconic man whose family has been in Wyoming for generations, works for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and is first seen carefully aiming his rifle and picking off a wolf as a pack approaches a flock of sheep he’s protecting. All the equations are pretty stark out here, and soon he has a more dangerous kind of predator to go after. As he’s out on his rounds in a snowmobile, he finds the body of the girl, frozen, in the snow.


She’s Natalie, the daughter of his Native American friend Martin (Gil Birmingham), and he visits him to break the news. Stoic at first, Martin finally breaks down. Cory can understand. He was married to a Native American woman, and they lost their own daughter under somewhat similar circumstances a few years ago—she was found dead in the snow after a party that took place while he and his wife were away. It broke the marriage. We see him visiting his ex-wife, Wilma (Julia Jones), polite but distant, to pick up their young son and take him out for some lessons in handling horses. Martin, however, lacks even that consolation. His only other child, a son, seemed to have some promise but has moved in with some local troublemakers who are in and out of jail.


Read on>>>>



Toni Ortner

A Cross By The Sea

Old Lady Blog




Here is an excerpt from Toni Ortner’s MSS for a book on Georgia O’Keefe.

        


It has always been there

arms outstretched.

                                    It could be another country or this.

There is no sign of a ship.

A gray day neither morning nor afternoon.

                                    It could be any season.

A high wind whips the waves into whitecaps.

                                   It could be today or yesterday.


Read on >>>>



Elizabeth Hill

A Man Named Shin

Love In Action





A hug from him is an unforgettable experience. He’d take me into his arms with his heart pressed to mine, and continue to hold on until our breathing synchronized. His soothing embraces felt safe, like those bear hugs my beloved Grandfather gave me when I was a child.


Shin-ichiro Terayama was born in Tokyo in 1936.  He grew up to be a workaholic physicist who ran a successful consulting business. At the age of forty-seven, he was diagnosed with kidney cancer. In spite of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, his cancer metastasized, and he was eventually put into hospice care.


It was during this time in hospice that he decided to try healing himself. He told me that he had gone out of a window of the hospice and climbed up on its roof. There, he made a promise to himself to watch the sun rise every day for as long as he would live.


He sold his business, and returned to playing his cello daily after a twenty-five year hiatus. He intuited that the music might help to raise the frequency of his body’s cells, allowing the deceased cells to receive more oxygen in an effort to slow the abnormal overgrowth of the more dense cancer cells. He changed his diet to vegetarian macrobiotic, which he thought would help his body to be more alkaline that might also inhibit cancer growth. He drank only select mineral water as well to rid his body of toxins.


Read the complete article



Charles Monette

Full Circle Meander

Meanderings




It’s been roughly a year since our publisher, Phil Innes, challenged me to write a column in witness of continuous visits to one site to get a sense of place.  He suggested that I try a hybrid prose/verse style of writing to enhance the telling.  I liked the idea and began walking Black Mountain and writing a column to chronicle these experiences.  This is my twelfth entry. The writing has brought me to the mountain more often than usual, and I am grateful for that.  It has also made my senses more keen, my mind thoughtful, and perhaps even improved my written expression. 

                                    Thanks Phil.


                   today’s jaunt had me thinking Change

    Arctic warming twice as fast than other points on earth

                     much faster than here in Vermont

          permafrost thawing causing more warming to come 

                            Life once wild disappearing


Funny to think of warming when a cool hint of summer’s end greeted my face and arms as I stepped onto the trail from Black Mountain road.  Crisp and cool and clean, the air was invigorating.   Looking about, I thought… Change is slow on Black mountain.


Although subtle signs were beginning to show, autumn’s approach was slowly accelerating.   I noticed lime greenish acorns spore radically strewn about.  Actually, they seemed to have dropped just recently, free-falling gently to the forest floor… perhaps a little roll downhill upon landing.  Two were pocketed for later scrutiny.


While walking, I realized that stopping to notice, to jot a few notes, had made my ascent effortless…seemingly faster than just trekking straight uphill.  Curious! Mindfulness bred mindlessness.  


Read on >



Offie Wortham

A Rational Solution to our Dilemma in Afghanistan.

Selected Letters




“Waist deep in the big muddy, and the big fool said to push on.” Does this remind you of anyone in particular? It’s the chorus of a song Pete Seeger wrote in 1967. The song was considered symbolic of the Vietnam War and President Johnson’s irrational policy of escalation, which was widely seen as pushing the country, and the world, deeper into a losing war.


Is our president really getting ready to make the same mistakes this country made in Vietnam? If it is widely accepted that this war will never be won by the United States on the battlefield, why are we getting ready to sacrifice hundreds, if not thousands of American troops in a losing battle? Not to mention the countless numbers of civilians who will be crippled and killed by our hundreds of mindless drones guided by an individual from a cornfield in Kansas.


The United States should begin a massive worldwide refugee resettlement program for Afghan citizens who want to leave the country, now, before it is taken over again by the Taliban. Arrangements should begin with any country that is willing to take in a specific number of refugees. The United Nations should coordinate this effort, and the US and other developed nations could be responsible for transportation, food and supplies.


Vietnam was a shameful time in our nation’s history, and the weekly body count of Americans being killed in the war was the major factor in turning people against the war, even more so than the massive anti-war demonstrations. It took eight more years, after the publication of “Waist Deep In The Big Muddy,” and hundreds of thousands of people on both sides killed, before the United States was forced to admit defeat in April of 1975 when the last two American soldiers died in a tragic helicopter crash trying to escape.


Such a resettlement program will save billions of dollars for the United States, and save thousands of lives. If the Taliban is destined to take over the country, why should we continue to attempt to “sweep back the tide?”  


Offie C. Wortham, PhD

125 Vermont RT 100C


Read on >>>>



Nanci Bern

Charlottsville

The Heart of the Serpent

An A-musing Life





Walking home from school in 4th grade, I was hit with rocks because I am Jewish. As I turned to see who had thrown them, two boys from my class laughed and ran down the hill to their homes. I will never forget the sound of their self-satisfied churls of hate.


One year before, we had moved to this more stable and better school-systemed NJ suburb from Newark, NJ. We moved there six months before the race riots occurred. Jews leaving Newark was an exodus encumbered with feelings of survival and remembrance, and for many of us, empathy. We saw, up close, the burgeoning tensions and pain that were painting the social landscape with a new layer of anguish.


It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that we had to uproot, yet again, to a place that was clearly not free of anti-Semitism. It wasn’t fair that those remaining were bound by economic and social default because of the lack of prosperity on soul damaging and economic levels. They were still being subjugated and abused.

My rabbi marched with Martin Luther King. He wrote and rallied and made us all think and act. Social justice is part of the deep breath of Jewish thought. Inhale the Divine and exhale Tikkun Olam-Fixing the World.


I became aware of this at a young age. I was aware that we had to leave because our synagogue was bombed…again. We had to leave because of what was happening to the social matrix. But it was never because of the people. This was a system that was hurting those who had never known not being hurt. We know about this. Jews do not get to be racist. We did not leave because we hated.


My first best friend was black. I remember the look that passed between my mother and Cheryl’s mother as I asked if we could have a sleep over when I was picked up after an afternoon of play in the Newark project housing, not the one family house that we lived in. It told me everything.


Read on >>>>



Charles Monette

Malvern Hill

Monkey’s Cloak




It was the sixth and last of seven days

The battle for Malvern Hill, July 1st, 1862

McClellan and Lee locked horns in Herrico County

Virginia… up a piece from Poindexter’s farm

Disjointed assaults on the nearly impregnable Union position

Yanks up on Malvern Hill, the favorable ground

Slopes cleared of lumber, greater visibility downhill

Lee orders attacks directly… instead of flanking…

Artillery would clear the way…

Tragic miscalculation

Deadly fire rained thunder down on the Confederates,

Slaughtering them in their charge

5,300 rebel casualties without gaining an inch of ground

Blue bled too… 8,500 in all

Despite the victory, McClellan withdrew

To Harrison’s landing on the James River

Gunboats now protected his army

Malvern Hill lay soaked in blood, pockmarked

Bodies lying there still


[The image: Watercolor by Sneden]


Read On >>



Offie Wortham

    So Who Came To Your Funeral?

Open Mind




I went to a really great funeral last week. Everybody in the family seemed to be there. It was in sharp contrast to one I had attended less than a year ago. This recent funeral was for an uncle. The previous one had been for a first cousin.


At the large church funeral for my uncle, there had been a genuine sense of loss expressed by hundreds of people, relatives and old friends. At the funeral for my cousin (at the funeral parlor) fewer than 10 people came to pay their final respects.


Same family, quite different funerals. "Why ... ",I asked myself, " ... do so many people feel moved at the passing of one person, but are totally disinterested in the death of another?" How do we decide if we will attend a wake or a funeral? What kind of a life must a person have lived to actually move people away from their busy schedules for a day, or even an evening?


The uncle was a very quiet, gentle, and giving man, who had lived in the same small town in the same house, with the same wife - for almost 50 years! The cousin, who had spent many happy summers with the uncle and his family, was raised only 20 miles away in the center of Harlem, the infamous ghetto in New York City. He became a high school drop-out, an alcoholic, a drug addict, and, finally, a convicted criminal. (It was well known that he had actually spent time in prison; something unheard of in this very middle-class family.) He was one of the few "Black Sheep" in the family, and was actually quite an embarrassment to many of his relatives.


He was not "successful". He did not live in a very nice neighborhood. He had never had a steady job, and he had no education to speak of, and he was supposed to have had a number of children all over the place from various women he had lived with.


As we get older, we tend to get more realistic about the transitory nature of our own existence. We are no more equal at death, than we are at birth. "Who ... "I found myself asking" ...would come to my funeral?" As my relatives and former friends pass judgment on my life, how many will take the time or energy to even pick up the phone, or send a card, much less actually attend my wake or funeral?


Read on >



Julia Ferrari

REFLECTION

in between



 

This week I had a dream in which I encountered several mirrors. This led me to contemplate the meaning of Reflection…and what that word may encompass? When we reflect, we pause to understand the reasons, cause, effect or results of something…we examine or “turn things over” in our mind at length, until we understand it. But we are also a source of reflection. Every day, knowingly or unknowingly, we reflect the status of our inner life and attitude to others and ourselves.


    A mirror is both static and changing because it is a tool of reflection. What we see in it is often the result of our inner voice and opinions as much as it is of what is actually there in front of us. We sometimes decry our abilities, our looks, our value and our accomplishments (at times even our very significance) when we gaze into a mirror, flinching at its imperfect image. Yet it is likely not the image but our opinion of ourselves that causes us to see beyond it to more negative thoughts. We participate in the acknowledgement of our accomplishments and beauty to the degree that we are able to stay open to a non-judgmental self view, refraining from unnecessary negativity. Often our thoughts reflect back inner fears that have nothing to do with reality. If so, it becomes time to step away from the critical, debasing self-reflection, and find instead a more tolerant gaze through to ourselves. 


   The Latin word for "mirror" is "speculum," which originally meant scanning the sky. When we speculate, we scan the future for hints of what will come. We speculate about our prospects of getting a new job, on the results of a relationship, or on the outcome of a presidency. That state of reflection upon certain sets of circumstances is fed by our own fears and motivations. Even if we want the job, or the relationship, we can find ways to undermine or spoil its prospects if we keep focusing on the negative, instead of actively participating in building something stable. through small efforts.


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For The Birds

Vermont Diary




Having driven down to New Haven to set my wife on a train for a road trip holiday down to the Carolinas by car, train, car again, I retreated from the 92 degree coastal heat and pollution already at evil level by 10:00am to a remarkable 62 back here in Vermont at noon.


Next day I attended the community kitchen at 6:30 and on coming home noticed that my wife today would be traveling through an area around the Chesapeake Bay where severe thunderstorms and tornados were forecast.


I also noticed that the cats were attendant on the wood-stove, cool this past couple months. In fact a flashlight and careful listening did reveal there was something in it, and being a rational person I deduced it was either a bird which had fallen down the chimney, a mouse or giant vampire rat that had done the same, or a Northern White Gator just waiting for someone to open the door so it could snap a bit before easing itself under the fridge.


As I said, we Vermonters are sober, sensible people, so I waited an hour and a half before rationally concluding that it was in fact a bird, and concocting a plan of how to get it out and not let it loose in a house with 3 cats.


3 Cats now angrily banned upstairs while I tested the tall garbage bag in front of the woodstove so I could open the stove through the bag, and the bird would, grateful for fresh air, drop into the bag, and Bob’s your uncle!


It went off perfectly, I bagged the stove, opened the door of stove, bird came out in two seconds and in two seconds more was flying around the kitchen — hitting one window, then across the room to crash against the other side, then residing puzzled on the draining board. It let me get up close with the garbage bag, used like gloves, and I got it, put it outside on the porch rail.


It cheeped a bit for five minutes, seemed okay and safe, and I went to do something, on return it was gone.


What is the moral of this tale? It has no presidents in it! Whatever this episode might mean to me was gained locally, and with engaged body mind and soul as alternative orientations.


It is just a Vermont Diary entry, and likely more qualified by where one did not put one’s attention, so that ‘just’ is worth a mild emphasis.


Read more Vermont Diary >>



Alan Rayner

Highland Fling

A series of articles - Part 3

Guest Article




Sunday 11th June


We explore the local area around Tyndrum of woodland, moorland and fast-flowing rivers, enchanted by the calls of Wood Warblers and a misty gathering of Wood Horsetails.


Wood Warblers and Horsetails


The sound of a spinning coin

Making its mind up

Whether to settle for heads or tails

Issues from branches in tall, straight trees

With carpets of Rhytidiadelphus

Sprawling at their feet

Opens the way for a day

Beside rushes of peaty water

From rain-soaked hillsides


A misty gathering of horsetails

With delicately branching sprays

Whorled around tubular stems

Brings to the woodland floor

That same kind of atmospheric drift

Which coats the upper reaches

Of mountains hiding their faces


A black liquid mirror

Fringed by sweet gale

Is the legendary repository for Bruce’s discarded Claymore

It hides its past

While reflecting its present

Gathered together

Standing on ceremony


Read On Here >>>



Jeri Rose

Jumping Through Time in My Life 

Archetypal Hippie Speaks





<extract>  The gecko has climbed up the empty bottle and is trying to glean something from under the cap. I move slowly to remove the cap and give it access to all the goodies within because though it is empty to me, the bottle is replete with drops that would fill a gecko’s desire. The gecko jumps away even though I move slowly. I get the top off and wait. The gecko returns, but having learned that the bottle is shut, it does not check again to learn that I removed the top. It jumps into my waste can looking for what I have tossed there. I am sorry I did not leave the top off in the first place.


                I think my regrets are a waste of emotion. When I was three, a medical doctor came when I had a cold and gave me an injection. He did not tell me what he was going to do. He put me face down over the bed and dropped my pajamas and stabbed a needle into my buttock. I naturally clenched and there was a silence. He and my mother were staring at his needle in horror because the needle had broken inside my body. I did not know. Then my mother took me to a place. I did not know what the place was. She removed my clothes in this strange place and put me in pajamas. She pointed out that the pajamas were like my own. They were white cotton with cartoon characters. They had feet at the bottom of the legs and a flap over my butt and they closed with snaps. They were exactly like the ones I wore at home. Then a woman came in with a chair on wheels. It had a tall back and seat that were of woven cane. I was told to sit in the chair.


                I said that I could walk. She thought otherwise and recruited another woman to help pick me up and carry me. I struggled mightily and kicked one in the face and they got a couple more to hold me and put me in a crib in a room with lots of other children. They put stuffed animals in the crib with me. I saw that another girl had books. I wanted the books. Another girl said she wanted the dolls a different child had. Everyone wanted to switch what they had. One of the children had been there a long time and a woman came in and wheeled her around the room once in a while to give her a change of pace. I arranged for everyone to give the girl their toys in order and to make exchanges so everyone got the toys they wanted.


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Vincent Pinella

John Dante’s Inferno, A Playboy’s Life - by Anthony Valerio

The First Glass




            HELL AND BACK


 In A Playboy’s Life, Anthony Valerio tells the story of an ordinary man who, almost without effort, finds himself in an extraordinary situation. This lively and skillfully written biography takes as its subject John Aimola, a son of Italian immigrants who renames himself John Dante and begins an intense relationship with Hugh Hefner, founder of the Playboy brand. The fascinating part of this book is the way Valerio relates John’s life to the great epic poem of his literary idol, Dante Alighieri, whose Inferno is based on the concept that the punishment for sin would resemble the sin itself.


 John was born to immigrants who settled in Chicago in the early 1900’s. The family wanted their son to avoid the street gangs and mobsters in the Italian section where they lived and sent him to a boarding school run by Benedictine monks. The monks taught The Divine Comedy, the poem about a pilgrim – Dante himself – who must journey through Hell’s inferno before he can attain Paradise. At the school one monk would read the poem in Italian while another used a pull down screen to flash Gustav Dore’s famous illustrations of sinners in the circles of Hell.


 As John grows older he never forgets the monks’ lessons while at the same time he becomes aware after some early sexual encounters that he is attractive to women. John is handsome and good natured and smart and easy to like. After a brief stint in organized crime, and a short career as a bartender, he opens a night club in a poor area of Chicago and calls it Dante’s Inferno. He decorates the walls with Doré reproductions and places ads in Playboy – a magazine he read and collected. One night a curious Hugh Hefner arrives at the club and John Aimola introduces himself as John Dante. Hefner likes him at once and the meeting begins a decades-long friendship which ends when the two men grow older and the Playboy phenomenon subsides.


Read on >>>>



Phil Innes

Grey Tower

Write On!




The same guy was sitting on his plastic chair to the right of the main doors as he had done for 15 years. It cost him 35% to beg there, and all due to the dude in the big tower. It was worth it, since people going in and out didn’t nickel and dime, they dropped fives, sometimes fifties.


He saw some characters going in, Indians, he thought, one older guy in a so-so suit and the other in native dress, blue jeans, sneakers but beaded around the neck with couple tattoos too. He didn’t press the alert button.


Inside the guilt foyer this pair showed their papers and were directed to a guarded elevator where one other person waited — he in a suit, grey-to-white, and wearing a cotton tie also in shades of cream and grey, with prismatic tinges.


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MM Kizi

Matinicus — The Marvelous Cat

Story Page




A full graphic novel

in slide show format


   Read On >>>

 

Passages

Edward Hopper

Sponsored by the oldest furniture store in New England 

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Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.


The greatest discovery of my generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitudes.


Be not afraid of life. Believe that life is worth living, and your belief will help create the fact.


The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another.


A great many people think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices.


The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook.


The great use of life is to spend it for something that will outlast it.


The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be appreciated.


Most people never run far enough on their first wind to find out they've got a second.


Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.


Not Quite The Thing

See more MM Kizi at  Story Page & https://mmkizi.org


International Caption It Competition




Series Thirteen Images by MM Kizi

are “PIFs” Pictures Inspired by Films

and sponsored by




If you like MM Kizi consider buying her new books

Lily the Cowboy and L & the Bell Gang HERE




Poem of the Day

Richard j Heby




Richard j Heby

tulip blooms


tulip blooms

pebbles cemented into sidewalk

we notice neither



Image Notes — Sep 12

Covent Garden





Covent Garden is a district of Westminster, in Greater London, on the eastern fringes of the West End, between Charing Cross Road and Drury Lane. It is associated with the former fruit-and-vegetable market in the central square, now a popular shopping and tourist site, and with the Royal Opera House, which is also known as "Covent Garden". The district is divided by the main thoroughfare of Long Acre, north of which is given over to independent shops centred on Neal's Yard and Seven Dials, while the south contains the central square with its street performers and most of the historical buildings, theatres and entertainment facilities, including the London Transport Museum and the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.


The area was briefly settled in the 7th century when it became the heart of the Anglo-Saxon trading town of Lundenwic, abandoned at the end of the 9th century. By 1200, part of it had been walled off by Westminster Abbey for use as arable land and orchards. Referred to as "the garden of the Abbey and Convent", and later "the Covent Garden", it was seized by Henry VIII and granted to the Earls of Bedford in 1552. The 4th Earl commissioned Inigo Jones to build some fine houses to attract wealthy tenants. Jones designed the Italianate arcaded square along with the church of St Paul's. The design of the square was new to London and had a significant influence on modern town planning, acting as the prototype for new estates as London grew.[3]

By 1654 a small open-air fruit-and-vegetable market had developed on the south side of the fashionable square. Gradually, both the market and the surrounding area fell into disrepute, as taverns, theatres, coffee-houses and brothels opened up. By the 18th century it had become a well-known red-light district. An Act of Parliament was drawn up to control the area, and Charles Fowler's neo-classical building was erected in 1830 to cover and help organise the market. The market grew and further buildings were added: the Floral Hall, Charter Market, and in 1904 the Jubilee Market. By the end of the 1960s traffic congestion was causing problems, and in 1974 the market relocated to the New Covent Garden Market about three miles (5 km) south-west at Nine Elms. The central building re-opened as a shopping centre in 1980 and is now a tourist location containing cafes, pubs, small shops, and a craft market called the Apple Market, along with another market held in the Jubilee Hall.


Art & Soul

Notes on Creating by Audrey Flack


Exhibiting Work

  




QUESTION: How Can I get my work out?


ANSWER: Find new sources for exhibiting. Don’t rely on the old power structure. Find new sources in the community. All artists cannot exhibit in New York City. Where you are is good. Build up your own area, particularly if there is a weak cultural community. They need you for their vision. All Italian artists did not go to Rome. There were Venetians, Florentines, Umbrians, Sienese. Regionalism is important.


    —From a lecture at

        University of South Florida,

        Tampa.


Now, here, this!  Aug 22


Short & Long-term forecasts





BRATTLEBORO VERMONT

...SEVERE THUNDERSTORMS


A useful on-line resource tracking real-time lightning strikes

http://www.lightningmaps.org/

 

Photos of the Day

The last of the Snow, Cairngorms Scotland

&

Snapping turtle, Route 30