October Gold

 It's that time of year for another Burlington memory harvest. The sights, sounds, tastes, aromas, and feelings are as fresh as this year's apple hrvest.

When an early autumn walks the land and chills the breeze

and touches with her hand the summer trees,

perhaps you'll understand what memories I own.

There's a dance pavilion in the rain all shuttered down,

a winding country lane all russet brown,

a frosty window pane shows me a town grown lonely.

In October 2008 I wrote the first of many revised editions of the story of the annual October closing of my family's "summer place" in West Virginia. It was nestled in the Patterson Creek Valley about twenty miles south of Cumberland, Maryland, and just under a three hour drive from my home in the Washington suburbs. Those who follow this blog likely know more about the Burlington campground than most current residents of that village. Still, it's an important story in my formative years and it's worth repeating, especially with revisions. The most recent change has been the loss of the magnificent two-story cedar pavilion that stood for nearly a century as the focal point of the property. For over 90 years it served as a Burlington landmark and with its loss a place that created so many memories has itself become one. And speaking of memories:

Repairing flood damage at the pavilion - classic outfit

In late October my mind floods with wonderful memories. From birth through my 27th year, the date marked an important event in my life. The story descends from my dad's membership in the Uniform Rank of the Knights of Pythias. The URKP was a military-style company within a fraternal organization born out of the search for national reconciliation following the Civil War. Every good military organization needed a campground with lodging, mess hall, recreation pavilion, and parade. The URKP built theirs in the small village of Burlington, West Virginia. It also served as a regional park, complete with playground, ball fields, and swimming in the creek. It was often rented for the day for family reunions, company picnics, church functions, and other large gatherings.

It was legal...and tasty, about 1966

"Camp" at Burlington was paradise for a young boy. A creek bordering the camp offered hours of fun. You could explore the woods and fields forever. The frequent social events made the playground a great place to meet new friends. But "camping" at Burlington was by no means a wilderness experience. We were lucky to have a cottage that offered every comfort of home. There was a drive-in theater next door where I enjoyed the snack bar as much as the movies. Across the road was a small airfield with a few Aeroncas, Taylorcrafts and Piper Cubs, and a hangar that gave birth to many "homebuilts" over the years. I can say with confidence that Burlington was never boring. The drive-in and airport were owned and operated by Dave and Georgia Baker, an entertaining and endearing couple I came to love and respect as family.

Today, the sycamores along the river may be a bit taller, but they still explode in yellow this time of year along with my favorite walnut tree. And the young maple I climbed as a boy has matured into a massive Fall fire tree. In 1950, I watched when the men brought in their bulldozers to shape a new channel and level the bank of Patterson Creek. The stone beach they built was much safer for the generation of bathers who enjoyed it, but creeks have a way of remembering affronts. By the mid '70's, the creek's waters restored the original course and bank to a scene my grandfather enjoyed in the 1930s. Although time changed the place I called "Camp" it will never erase the memories of this childhood paradise.

1959

Hulling walnuts, 1967

Through the summer of 1974, I spent many annual family vacations at "camp" and in later years, several weekends of "cold camping" in the off-seasons where I wrote many college essays including a graduate thesis. Opening the cottage and grounds for the summer though exciting was not especially memorable. Freezing temperatures lingered into May, so the campground usually opened on Memorial Day weekend.

When it's 48 degrees at noon in a pouring August rain

On the other hand, winterizing the place was like saying "Goodbye" to an old friend. Thoughts of family, friends, the big - or small - fish, fireworks, that scary movie, the old biplane, all those memories accumulated over the past six months filled your mind. Amid the blazing gold sycamores, brilliant fire oaks and maples, the smell of wood smoke, and a harvest of black walnuts, we went through the years-old closing procedure until the last item - pouring anti-freeze into sink traps - was checked. At that point, it was time to load the car, proceed with all those repetitive tasks one does "just to be sure," then close and lock the big red door until Spring.

Radical days with Marti, 1970

As American society changed, the URKP fell out of fashion. Lodge members grew old and passed away. In 1974, the lodge itself and all its assets dissolved. I haven't locked that big red door for 48 years now, but I still have the key and a remarkably detailed mental picture of the cottage and landscape that I loved.

Closing weekend, 1972

In many ways, Burlington is with me every day for my experiences there helped shape my values, and define my career, hobbies, and general interests. The impact has been so profound that I have asked my children to do their best to provide the same opportunity for their own families.

1949

In weaving all of the memories about this weekend, I ask you, my readers, to do the same: Find a nearby paradise and escape to it often while your children are young. And when they are older and have children of their own, they can join you and make even more vivid memories. There will be no sorrow there.






Sources

Illustrations and Photos:
all photos from the family archive

Text:
song title, "When October Goes", and opening quote, "Early Autumn", lyrics, by Johnny Mercer, Johnny Mercer, The Complete Lyrics of Johnny Mercer, edited by Kimball, Day, Kreuger, and Davis; Knopf 2009

A Time When Dogs Seek Shade

 

Orion the Hunter

Back in the '70's and '80's I had the good fortune to live on the beach of a small barrier island at the mouth of the Savannah River. My house was a raised Caribbean-style cottage built in the 1920s. The porch overlooking the Atlantic faced southeast and was ideal for capturing the summer trade winds. At this time of year when I looked toward the horizon I saw a beautiful event unfold many times in the hour before dawn. Those hours and the imaginary music of the spheres evoke memories so vivid they seem to have occurred only yesterday.

First, Bellatrix, a blue giant star rose out of the Atlantic haze to be followed soon by the red giant, Betelgeuse. Soon the blue giants, Mintaka, and Rigel followed. At this point viewers saw a signature belt of three stars and a faint sword. Experienced sky watchers knew that Orion the Hunter was ascending. In minutes the belt stars pointed to shimmering Sirius, a binary star also known as the Dog Star. It was by far the brightest star in the sky but soon it and all the others would dissolve in the blinding light and heat of another summer sunrise.

Sirius the Dog Star

In the Nile and other valleys of the ancient Middle East, all eyes turned to the summer dawn anticipating the appearance of Orion and Sirius. They signaled the coming of the floods, of water for life and eventually for civilization. To the ancient Greeks the rising of these stars with the sun signaled the peak of summer heat when even dogs chose not to leave shade. They came to call this time of year hemerai kynades, a phrase that translates directly to "dog days." We have come a long way in time since scribes first recorded Sirius rising from the damp mud along the banks of the Nile. But we still experience the Hunter and the Dog, now both lost in daylight, one awaiting his turn to rule the autumn sky, the other to remind us that his days, the sultry dog days, are still with us.

While some people dread them I look forward to the coming of the "dog days." The heat makes me thrive and my arthritis becomes a memory. Atlanta's climate data tells us that on average the warmest days of 2023 will be behind us in a few weeks. The sun is already casting ever longer shadows as it arcs lower across the southern sky. Leaves hang limp on trees catching more and more of that light giving the woods a golden hue even at midday. The aging summer has also brought this year's acorn crop closer to maturity. I can tell because the squirrel community in our woods is starting to work overtime on an early and ripening harvest.

Calm days and high temperatures also lead to popcorn thundershowers that meander across the region waiting to die out as fast as they arise. So far they've brought powerful lightning, the positive strikes that start fires, several inches of rainfall, high winds, and pea sized hail. With that said it's time to envision sitting comfortably on the screened porch where a big ceiling fan quietly generates a steady breeze and your sweating sweet iced tea feels good even to the touch. The forest surrounding me is a still landscape interrupted by an occasional bird or squirrel. If you stay there long you witness the yellowing light of day giving way to the twilights, the lightning bugs, the cicadas, then the katydids and a chorus of north Georgia tree frogs.

I love all of those twilight sounds but I love the katydids most. They remind me of long summer vacations and drifting to sleep in my bed next to a cottage window that opened wide to both their chatter and a comforting breeze moving down the West Virginia mountainsides of my childhood. It was there I first developed a passion for forests, for flowing water, for a clear sky I felt I could almost touch. Over sixty year later that passion leads me to waken before the sun to witness a pattern of stars rise out of an unseen ocean and bring me summer. Bring it on!

The First Full Day Of Summer

About ninety minutes before midnight last night the s astronomical event we know as the summer solstice introduced the season on the East Coast of the US.  Today, the first full day of summer, the sun reached its highest point in the sky in the northern hemisphere producing the longest day and shortest night of the year.

Summer solstice sunrise at Stonehenge, Wiltshire, England

Although the sun begins its daily descent from that highest point tomorrow, insolation from our star will continue to raise atmospheric temperatures until late July. As this day marks the end of the season of renewal and the beginning of the season of growth and flower, I am reminded of this quote by the renowned American novelist, essayist, and critic, D. H. Lawrence:

The greatest need of man is the renewal forever of the complete rhythm of life and death, the rhythm of the sun's year, the body's year

There's plenty of interesting and appropriate music for the day including this 13th century English round:

Middle English

Sumer is icumen in

Lhude sing cuccu!

Groweþ sed and bloweþ med

And springþ þe wde nu,

Sing cuccu!

Awe bleteþ after lomb,

Lhouþ after calue cu.

Bulluc sterteþ, bucke uerteþ,

Murie sing cuccu!

Cuccu, cuccu, wel singes þu cuccu;

Ne swik þu nauer nu.

Pes:

Sing cuccu nu. Sing cuccu.

Sing cuccu. Sing cuccu nu!

Modern English

Summer has arrived,

Loudly sing, Cuckoo!

The seed grows and the meadow

blooms

And the wood springs anew,

Sing, Cuckoo!

The ewe bleats after the lamb

The cow lows after the calf.

The bullock stirs, the stag farts,

Merrily sing, Cuckoo!

Cuckoo, cuckoo, well you sing,

cuckoo;

Don't ever you stop now,

Sing cuckoo now. Sing, Cuckoo.

Sing Cuckoo. Sing cuckoo now!

Here is a tone poem, A Song of Summer, written some 700 years later by Frederick Delius and transcribed and arranged by Eric Fenby:

And then there is summer as the season of youth, the school break, the summer job, of free time and good friends, and for many what the renowned mythologist Joseph Campbell called "friendship set to music."

May your summer living be easy and wonder-filled.











Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
photo, nasa.gov

Text:
thoughtcatalog.com

May Day 2025: On The Coming Of Summer

To be fair we could be talking about workers of the world, the joys of collectivist thought, and even the "fruits" of Communism on this day. I would rather speak of a more ancient and far happier theme, the arrival of the season of warmth and growth.

May 1, 2023, in Glastonbury, United Kingdom

The Gaelic festival day, Beltane ("be-EL-ten-a" in Irish, "BEL-tayn" in English)) occurs on May 1 and is a cross-quarter day marking the beginning of summer in their ancient calendar. It is one of two "turning" days of the year and exactly six months apart from the other, Samhain (saa-wn), marking the beginning of the dead season of winter. In the United Kingdom and other places with Gaelic heritage Beltane celebrations began last night with the lighting of bonfires, dancing and feasting long into the night.

 

The fun continues with the welcoming of the sun, the selection of the May Queen or earth goddess representing fertility, and the May King or Green Man - the latter first appeared in the 12th century -  representing vegetation and growth. The partying includes a Maypole dance - once an ancient fertility rite - and the decoration of houses, farms, and livestock; and more feasting.

Here in the United States there isn't much associated with the day unless there's an opportunity to sell something under the May Day Sale label. Even schools show little interest in May Day but it was a day-long festival at my elementary school in the 1950's. Actually the day was a big event for the whole community. It was so important that I recall the teachers having us outside days in advance to practice the May Pole dance until the lattice pattern on the pole was perfect. I wonder how enthusiastic they would have been had they known we were practicing a fertility rite. Aside from a few New Agers all religious associations with the activities have been left to an ancient past. These days it's simply good fun. Or at least a happy memory.

Maypole Dance, Bascom Hill, Wisconsin, May 1, around 1917

May you have a most festive celebration of the arrival of a time of warmth and new life





Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
Photograph: University of Wisconsin Digital Collections

Spring 2025

An hour or so before sunrise in the eastern US the plane of our planet of our planet pass through the center of the sun. That means today is an equinox day: the sun is directly overhead on the equator at midday and the the length of light and darkness are just about equal anywhere on the planet. This year I don't care to get more technical about the facts. What really matters is it's the first day of Spring in the northern hemisphere. Metro Atlanta could use better weather to mark the arrival. Cloudy skies, gusty 30mph winds, and a temperature flirting with 50 degrees feels far nore like midwinter. No need to fret though as clearer skies and 75 degree temperatures ill be with us by Saturday

When it comes to calendars and changing seasons, I'm always reminded of the French Revolutionary Calendar (1793-1805) teasing us with the warmth and color of Spring. The calendar itself wiped away all references to the past, the old French regime, and a return to an Edenic world. For starters the spring equinox marks the first day of the month of Germinal. Every day had a name appropriate for the season. A revolutionary idea, I'd say. So here is the revolution's personification of Germinal and her fecund thirty days (March 21 - April 19):

1. Primevere - Primrose

2. Plantane - Plane Tree

3. Asperge - Asparagus

4. Tulipe - Tulip

5. Poule - Hen

6. Bette - Chard Plant

7. Bouleau - Birch Tree

8. Jonquille - Daffodil

9. Aulne - Alder

10. Couvoir - Hatchery

11. Pervenche - Periwinkle

12. Charme - Hornbeam

13. Morille - Morel

14. Hetre - European Beech Tree

15. Abielle - Bee

16. Laitue - Lettuce

17. Meleze - Larch

18. Cigue - Hemlock

19. Radis - Radish

20. Ruche - Hive

21. Gainier - Judas Tree

22. Romaine - Lettuce

23 Marronnier - Horse chestnut

24. Roquette - Arugula or Rocket

25. Pigeon - Pigeon

26. Lilas - Lilac

27. Anemone - Anemone

28. Pensee - Pansy

29. Myrtille - Blueberry

30. Greffor - Knife

Wonderful imagery about the season of renewal in those thirty words. The remaining eleven months are equally impressive. Alas, even the best elements of most cultural revolutions are apt to fail. The French Revolutionary Calendar, introduced in 1793, disappeared along with the First French Republic in the early days of the Napoleonic Era beginning in 1805.

Enough with history for now. May your first day of spring be the harbinger of warm weather and wind in your sails. Here is some beautiful imagery in sound to help you on your way.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations: Allegory of Germinal, public domain, wikipedia.fr, French National Library and Bureau of Measures, Paris

It's Old Man Winter's Favorite Season

Today is the first day of Winter and the shortest day - less than twelve hours of sunshine -  of the year in the Northern hemispere That event as well as the coot evening temperatures will be more than enough to awaken thoughts of sub-freezing temperatures, howling winds and depths of drifting snow measured in feet. 

In Henry Purcell's 1671 semi-opera, King Arthur, the spirit of Winter is depicted as Cold Genius, a frozen old man who much prefers dormancy under snowdrifts to an invitation to celebrate the coming of Spring.

What power art thou Who from below Hast made me rise Unwillingly and slow From beds of everlasting snow See'st thou not how stiff And wondrous old Far unfit to bear the bitter cold I can scarcely move Or draw my breath I can scarcely move Or draw my breath Let me, let me, Let me freeze again Let me, let me Freeze again to death Let me, let me, let me Freeze again to death...

Much of the nation won't have long to wait Cold Genius's favoite weather. Personally I don't look forward to cold temperatures, ice, assorted freezing slop, and black snow lining city streets for the next three months. On the other hand, the thought of lengthening days that arrived with today's solstice brings a big smile to my face. This rebirth of the sun has brought happiness to humans for quite a long time.

The Newgrange Tumulus in County Meath, Ireland, is a nice illustration of this long-standing respect for the rebirth of light and warmth to a culture. The burial mound has a passage that aligns perfectly with the winter solstice sunrise. People have observed the illumination of the keystone at Newgrange for over 4500 years. That's long before Stonehenge and the Giza pyramids existed.

The winter solstice is also know as Midwinter is some circles. Here is unquestionably the song of the day, In the Bleak Midwinter, a perfect blend of nature and the "coming of the light" in the celebration of the birth of Jesus.

In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter

Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him

Nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away

When He comes to reign:

In the bleak mid-winter

A stable-place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty,

Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim

Worship night and day,

A breastful of milk,

And a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels

Fall down before,

The ox and ass and camel

Which adore.

Angels and archangels

May have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim

Thronged the air -

But only His mother

In her maiden bliss

Worshipped the Beloved

With a kiss.

What can I give Him,

Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd

I would bring a lamb;

If I were a wise man

I would do my part;

Yet what I can, I give Him -

Give my heart.

For the next six months the sun will climb a bit higher every day in the Northern Hemisphere. We won't notice heat from the "rebirth" of the sun until a month or so into this cycle. While the lengthening days can give us hope that the "dead season" will soon come to an end, we can still enjoy the experience of a world at quiet rest.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:

Newgrange aerial photo, gaia.com
Newgrange plan and section, public domain illustration, William Frederick Wakeman, Wakeman's Handbook of Irish Heritage (1903), archives.org

October: What Memories I Own

It's that time of year for another Burlington memory harvest. The sights, sounds, tastes, aromas, and feelings are as fresh as this year's apple hrvest.

When an early autumn walks the land and chills the breeze

and touches with her hand the summer trees,

perhaps you'll understand what memories I own.

There's a dance pavilion in the rain all shuttered down,

a winding country lane all russet brown,

a frosty window pane shows me a town grown lonely.

In October 2008 I wrote the first of many revised editions of the story of the annual October closing of my family's "summer place" in West Virginia. It was nestled in the Patterson Creek Valley about twenty miles south of Cumberland, Maryland, and just under a three hour drive from my home in the Washington suburbs. Those who follow this blog likely know more about the Burlington campground than most current residents of that village. Still, it's an important story in my formative years and it's worth repeating, especially with revisions. The latest "revision" was the demolition of the cottage I enjoyed for countless summers and weekends in the first third of my life. After new owners used it as a residence and storehouse for several years it was abandoned. Weather and slow decay reduced the place to an eyesore, then a pile of debris, and finally a memory. A few years earlier the magnificent two-story cedar pavilion that stood for nearly a century as the focal point of the property fell to a similar fate. 

And speaking of memories:

Repairing flood damage at the pavilion - classic outfit

In late October my mind floods with wonderful memories. From birth through my 27th year, the date marked an important event in my life. The story descends from my dad's membership in the Uniform Rank of the Knights of Pythias. The URKP was a military-style company within a fraternal organization born out of the search for national reconciliation following the Civil War. Every good military organization needed a campground with lodging, mess hall, recreation pavilion, and parade. Beginning in 1925, the URKP built theirs in the small village of Burlington, West Virginia. It also served as a regional park, complete with playground, ball fields, and swimming in the creek. It was often rented for the day for family reunions, company picnics, church functions, and other large gatherings.

It was legal...and tasty, about 1966

"Camp" at Burlington was paradise for a young boy. A creek bordering the camp offered hours of fun. You could explore the woods and fields forever. The frequent social events made the playground a great place to meet new friends. But "camping" at Burlington was by no means a wilderness experience. We were lucky to have a cottage that offered every comfort of home. There was a drive-in theater next door where I enjoyed the snack bar as much as the movies. Across the road was a small airfield with a few Aeroncas, Taylorcrafts and Piper Cubs, and a hangar that gave birth to many "homebuilts" over the years. I can say with confidence that Burlington was never boring. The drive-in and airport were owned and operated by Dave and Georgia Baker, an entertaining and endearing couple I came to love and respect as family.

Today, the sycamores along the river may be a bit taller, but they still explode in yellow this time of year along with my favorite walnut tree. And the young maple I climbed as a boy has matured into a massive Fall fire tree. In 1950, I watched when the men brought in their bulldozers to shape a new channel and level the bank of Patterson Creek. The stone beach they built was much safer for the generation of bathers who enjoyed it, but creeks have a way of remembering affronts. By the mid '70's, the creek's waters restored the original course and bank to a scene my grandfather enjoyed in the 1930s. Although time changed the place I called "Camp" it will never erase the memories of this childhood paradise.

1959

Hulling walnuts, 1967

Through the summer of 1974, I spent many annual family vacations at "camp" and in later years, several weekends of "cold camping" in the off-seasons where I wrote many college essays including a graduate thesis. Opening the cottage and grounds for the summer though exciting was not especially memorable. Freezing temperatures lingered into May, so the campground usually opened on Memorial Day weekend.

When it's 48 degrees at noon in a pouring August rain

On the other hand, winterizing the place was like saying "Goodbye" to an old friend. Thoughts of family, friends, the big - or small - fish, fireworks, that scary movie, the old biplane, all those memories accumulated over the past six months filled your mind. Amid the blazing gold sycamores, brilliant fire oaks and maples, the smell of wood smoke, and a harvest of black walnuts, we went through the years-old closing procedure until the last item - pouring anti-freeze into sink traps - was checked. At that point, it was time to load the car, proceed with all those repetitive tasks one does "just to be sure," then close and lock the big red door until Spring.

Radical days with Marti, 1970

As American society changed, the URKP fell out of fashion. Lodge members grew old and passed away. In 1974, the lodge itself and all its assets dissolved. I haven't locked that big red door for 50 years now, but I still have the key and a remarkably detailed mental picture of the cottage and landscape that I loved.

Closing weekend, 1972

In many ways, Burlington is with me every day for my experiences there helped shape my values, and define my career, hobbies, and general interests. The impact has been so profound that I have asked my children to do their best to provide the same opportunity for their own families.

1949

In weaving all of the memories about this weekend, I ask you, my readers, to do the same: Find a nearby paradise and escape to it often while your children are young. And when they are older and have children of their own, they can join you and make even more vivid memories. Nepenthe! Nepenthe! There will be no sorrow there.






Sources

Illustrations and Photos:
all photos from the family archive

Text:
song title, "When October Goes", and opening quote, "Early Autumn", lyrics, by Johnny Mercer, Johnny Mercer, The Complete Lyrics of Johnny Mercer, edited by Kimball, Day, Kreuger, and Davis; Knopf 2009

Hunter's Supermoon Rising Tonight

Tonight we usher the full Hunter's Supermoon into the twilight of a mid-October evening. From Angle-European traditions many say the moom takes its name from the beginning of hunting season. It's a logical progression from last month's Harvest Moon - also a supermoon - when farmers could gather their crops under the moonlight. This month they could hunt a variety of game feeding on remants in the empty fields.

The Moon

by Robert Louis Stevenson

The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;

She shines on thieves on the garden wall,

On streets and fields and harbour quays,

And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,

The howling dog by the door of the house,

The bat that lies in bed at noon,

All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day

Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;

And flowers and children close their eyes

Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.

I always enjoy the Hunter's Moon because its arrival also means that the constllation, Orion the Hunter, rises out of the eastern horizon around midnight and domininates the southern sky until dawn.

You may recognize Orion even better without all the imagination. You won't be alone as Orion is the by far as the world's best known constellation. It's hard to miss the belt and scabbard.

October also brings us three important meteor showers. The Draconid shower peaked about a week ago. The waning Hunter's Moon coincides with the peak of the  Orionid shower on October 21 when you can expect to see up to twenty meteors per hour. The Taurid shower - actually two overlapping showers - is slowly building to a peak from late October to early November. The moon will have a minimal impact on viewing so you have a good opportunity to see some fireballs expected this year.

Into late October northern hemisphere sky viewers have an opportunity to see Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS (also known as C/2023 A3 or simply as Comet A3) which hasn't been seen from Earth for 80,000 years. It's at its brightest now and will be easy to spot as a naked eye object by looking toward the western horizon about about 45 minutes after sunset.

Hope you enjoy this double treat tonight. It's going to be a long wait to see this event again. 

Northern Autumn Begins

A new season crept over Atlanta today. It began with the usual soft breeze, dry air, and beautiful sky. The big difference this year is an expected high temperature of 92 and its persistence deep into the  coming week.  It's what I call the beginning of our endless Fall and it's one of the events I most enjoy here in north Georgia. It usually stays with us well past Thanksgiving which means Christmas has a tendency to sneak up on you. I had an even harder time with it in Savannah where fall colors usually "peaked" in January if at all. In any case I'm already thinking about the possibility of Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners on the patio, events that have occurred more often than you'd expect during my 47 years of living in Georgia.

With an unblemished week of beautiful weather behind us we expect it will continue into October. Other than shortening days and cooler nights about the only sign of seasonal change on the patio and around the house is the singular blooms that have replaced summer's clusters of color.

As we enter the harvest cycle I am reminded of the bounty of nature we enjoy regardless of the season. And that reminds me of the calander and in particular the Napoleonic Calendar born in the spirit of the French Revolution and the romantic movement that followed. It's composed of ten day weeks, twelve months of thirty days, and assorted extra days to add up to the essential number, 365/6. Yes, it was a confusing time piece. On the other hand, using seasonal events, plant and animal names, and farming implements to label the days and months made the calendar a work of art. This day may be a Sunday in Atlanta but in 1800 in Paris the day was Raisin.

Here in the next 29 days is a vivid picture of the season:

Safran (Saffron)

Chataignes (Chestnut)

Colchique (Autumn Crocus)

Cheval (Horse)

Balsamine (Yellow Balsam)

Carrotes (Carrots)

Amaranthe (Amaranth)

Panais (Parsnip)

Cuve (Tub)

Pommes de terre (Potatoes)

Immortelle (Strawflower)

Potiron (Giant Pumpkin)

Reseda (Mignonette)

Ane (Donkey)

Belle de nuit (Marvel of Peru)

Citroville (Summer Pumpkin)

Sarrazin (Buckwheat)

Touresol (Sunflower)

Pressoir (Wine-Press)

Chanvre (Hemp)

Peches (Peaches)

Navets (Turnip)

Amarillis (Amaryllis)

Boeuf (Cattle)

Aubegine (Eggplant)

Piment (Chile Pepper)

Tomate (Tomato)

Orge (Barley)

Tonneau (Barrel)

I think Vendemiaire provides us a comforting association with a different time and place, a pre-industrial existence where we can easily recognize ourselves as part of nature and not separate from it. That's as it should be. This is the season to be close to the earth and its harvest that sustains us through the cold and dark months to come. Welcome to Fall and the grape harvest. Let us enjoy it whether it be early or late.








Sources:

Photos and Illustrations:
Wikipedia entry: Vendemiaire, author unknown, National Library and Bureau of Measures,

Text:
Fondation Napoleon, www.napoleon.org

The Hunter Rises From The Sea

Orion the Hunter

Back in the '70's and '80's I had the good fortune to live on the beach of a small barrier island at the mouth of the Savannah River. My house was a raised Caribbean-style cottage built in the 1920s. The porch overlooking the Atlantic faced southeast and was ideal for capturing the summer trade winds. At this time of year when I looked toward the horizon I saw a beautiful event unfold many times in the hour before dawn. Those hours and the imaginary music of the spheres evoke memories so vivid they seem to have occurred only yesterday.

First, Bellatrix, a blue giant star rose out of the Atlantic haze to be followed soon by the red giant, Betelgeuse. Soon the blue giants, Mintaka, and Rigel followed. At this point viewers saw a signature belt of three stars and a faint sword. Experienced sky watchers knew that Orion the Hunter was ascending. In minutes the belt stars pointed to shimmering Sirius, a binary star also known as the Dog Star. It was by far the brightest star in the sky but soon it and all the others would dissolve in the blinding light and heat of another summer sunrise.

Sirius the Dog Star

In the Nile and other valleys of the ancient Middle East, all eyes turned to the summer dawn anticipating the appearance of Orion and Sirius. They signaled the coming of the floods, of water for life and eventually for civilization. We have come a long way in time since scribes first recorded Sirius rising from the damp mud along the banks of the Nile. But we still experience the Hunter and the Dog, now both lost in daylight, one awaiting his turn to rule the autumn sky, the other to remind us that his days, the sultry dog days, are still with us.

While some people dread them I look forward to the coming of the "dog days." The heat makes me thrive and my arthritis becomes a memory. Atlanta's climate data tells us that on average the warmest days of 2023 will be behind us in a few weeks. The sun is already casting ever longer shadows as it arcs lower across the southern sky. Leaves hang limp on trees catching more and more of that light giving the woods a golden hue even at midday. The aging summer has also brought this year's acorn crop closer to maturity. I can tell because the squirrel community in our woods is starting to work overtime on an early and ripening harvest.

Calm days and high temperatures also lead to popcorn thundershowers that meander across the region waiting to die out as fast as they arise. So far they've brought powerful lightning, the positive strikes that start fires, several inches of rainfall, high winds, and pea sized hail. With that said it's time to envision sitting comfortably on the screened porch where a big ceiling fan quietly generates a steady breeze and your sweating sweet iced tea feels good even to the touch. The forest surrounding me is a still landscape interrupted by an occasional bird or squirrel. If you stay there long you witness the yellowing light of day giving way to the twilights, the lightning bugs, the cicadas, then the katydids and a chorus of north Georgia tree frogs.

I love all of those twilight sounds but I love the katydids most. They remind me of long summer vacations and drifting to sleep in my bed next to a cottage window that opened wide to both their chatter and a comforting breeze moving down the West Virginia mountainsides of my childhood. It was there I first developed a passion for forests, for flowing water, for a clear sky I felt I could almost touch. Over sixty year later that passion leads me to waken before the sun to witness a pattern of stars rise out of an unseen ocean and bring me summer. Bring it on!

Summer 2024 Has Arrived

Today's astronomical event we know as the summer solstice arrives on the East Coast of the US shortly before 5:00pm this afternoon. On this day the sun reaches its highest point in the sky in the northern hemisphere. It's also the longest day and shortest night of the year.

Summer solstice sunrise           Stonehenge, Wiltshire, England

Although the sun begins its daily descent from that highest point tomorrow, insolation from our star will continue to raise atmospheric temperatures until late July. As this day marks the end of the season of renewal and the beginning of the season of growth and flower, I am reminded of this quote by the renowned American novelist, essayist, and critic, D. H. Lawrence:

The greatest need of man is the renewal forever of the complete rhythm of life and death, the rhythm of the sun's year, the body's year.

There's plenty of interesting and appropriate music for the day including this 13th century English round:

Middle English

Sumer is icumen in

Lhude sing cuccu!

Groweþ sed and bloweþ med

And springþ þe wde nu,

Sing cuccu!

Awe bleteþ after lomb,

Lhouþ after calue cu.

Bulluc sterteþ, bucke uerteþ,

Murie sing cuccu!

Cuccu, cuccu, wel singes þu cuccu;

Ne swik þu nauer nu.

Pes:

Sing cuccu nu. Sing cuccu.

Sing cuccu. Sing cuccu nu!

Modern English

Summer has arrived,

Loudly sing, Cuckoo!

The seed grows and the meadow

blooms

And the wood springs anew,

Sing, Cuckoo!

The ewe bleats after the lamb

The cow lows after the calf.

The bullock stirs, the stag farts,

Merrily sing, Cuckoo!

Cuckoo, cuckoo, well you sing,

cuckoo;

Don't ever you stop now,

Sing cuckoo now. Sing, Cuckoo.

Sing Cuckoo. Sing cuckoo now!

Here is a tone poem, A Song of Summer, written some 700 years later by Frederick Delius and transcribed and arranged by his amanuensis, Eric Fenby:

And then there is summer as the season of youth, the school break, the summer job, of free time and good friends, and for many what the renowned mythologist Joseph Campbell called "friendship set to music."

May your summer living be easy, wonder-filled, and set to music.






Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
photo, nasa.gov

Text:
thoughtcatalog.com