"The Pumpkin"

verse by John Greenleaf Whittier

Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun,

The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run,

And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold,

With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold,

Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew,

While he waited to know that his warning was true,

And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain

For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain.

On the banks of the Xenil the dark Spanish maiden

Comes up with the fruit of the tangled vine laden;

And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold

Through orange-leaves shining the broad spheres of gold;

Yet with dearer delight from his home in the North,

On the fields of his harvest the Yankee looks forth,

Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit shines,

And the sun of September melts down on his vines.

Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,

From North and from South come the pilgrim and guest,

When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board

The old broken links of affection restored,

When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more,

And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before,

What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye?

What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie?

Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling,

When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling!

When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin,

Glaring out through the dark with a candle within!

When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune,

Our chair a broad pumpkin,—our lantern the moon,

Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam,

In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team!

Then thanks for thy present! none sweeter or better

E'er smoked from an oven or circled a platter!

Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine,

Brighter eyes never watched o'er its baking, than thine!

And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express,

Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less,

That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below,

And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow,

And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky

Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie!

How About A Feast Pig?

"The first piggy banks were part of European children's preparations for Christmas. The children were taught to save their coins in earthenware "feast pigs," which were to be opened as part of the Christmas Day celebrations. A modern version of this tradition could encourage the family to save money for Christmas. The collected coins might be used for a special Christmas offering or sharing project. Rinsed-out bleach bottles or papier-mâché layered over an inflated balloon, can be transformed into great "feast pigs." Adding cork legs and decorating with acrylic paints or scraps of felt or calico will give each pig its own personality!"

from Celebrate the Wonder: A Family Christmas Treasury 

Here's a "feast pig" made from a plastic milk jug. Your pig need not be pink; a Christmas pig could be red and green, or blue and covered with snowflakes. Glitter will make him—or her!—shine. The money raised could be donated to Toys for Tots or some other children's charity. 

Martinmas

Celebrated on November 11, "Martinmas" is the feast day of St. Martin of Tours, a Roman shoulder who showed kindness to a barely-clad poor man by giving him half of his voluminous Roman cloak. In a dream, Martin found out the "beggar" he had helped was Jesus Christ in disguise, who had baptized him as a Christian. He later became a bishop.

Martinmas was originally the beginning of a fasting season that lasted from November 11 through the Epiphany (forty days, like Lent, with Saturday and Sunday as free from fasting). This period has been known as "Old Advent." Later, Advent was shortened to the four-week period it holds now, although some Christian churches are calling for a return to the forty-day fasting period as in Lent.

A traditional food for Martinmas is roast goose. It was said Martin, a modest man, did not feel himself worthy to be a bishop, so he hid from the elders sent to inform him of the appointment by secreting himself in a goose pen. However, the honking and chattering of the goose gave him away.

St. Martin is traditionally shown riding a white horse (probably a dapple grey horse that has grown white with age), and the saying "St. Martin is coming on his white horse" is used in some European countries to indicate that it is going to snow. Agriculturally, St. Martin's Day represents the first day of winter, so the saying is very apt.

Martinmas is still celebrated extensively in Europe, especially Germany and eastern European countries. The Germans light bonfires in his honor. Beef can also be a traditional meal on Martinmas since, as the beginning of winter, you would have to dispassionately calculate how many animals you could support during the cold season, so cows, pigs, sheep, and other livestock might be slaughtered and preserved at Martinmas so others would survive and so the humans would have food to eat during a time of year when crops did not grow.

Armistice Day

Today in the United States we call this date Veterans Day as it celebrates the veterans who have served in all the armed forces (Memorial Day is our day for all those who died in performance of their duty). The British celebrate this day as Remembrance Day and have an annual ceremony at the Cenotaph, their memorial to the dead of the first World War.

This year, of course, is special as it is the 100th anniversary of the armistice that ended "the Great War." At "the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month," the rifles and grenades and artillery went silent. I had the great pleasure of being able to watch the British ceremony at the Cenotaph this morning via Britbox. It was lovely, a beautiful day with no rain, and after all the dignitaries and various service groups and associated service groups marched, 10,000 people who are "just folks," not famous at all, followed marching for an ancestor who was involved with the war, just to commemorate them. So touching.

I walked the dog this morning under a beautiful sky, able to do so because of the people who have served, and continue to serve, their country in military service. Yesterday I bought a poppy from a veteran, who thanked me for buying it. I didn't do anything but sit around on my fanny. THANK YOU.

Armistice Day Definition

"The Day The Guns Fell Silent"

How it might have sounded when the guns went silent.

British Remembrance Day Ceremony in Pictures

All About Hallowe'en: Nonfiction Books

Halloween: An American Holiday, an American History, Lesley Pratt Bannatyne
This seems to have become one of the definitive historical texts about Hallowe'en in the United States; Bannatyne was interviewed for the History Channel's A Haunted History of Halloween.

Hallowe'en originated in the combined customs of the Celts, who celebrated Samhain (pronounced "sow-wen") as autumn turned cold and darkness approached, and of the Romans who invaded the British isles. When Christianity appeared, instead of disposing of pagan rituals, Pope Gregory asked that the church find some way to incorporate the old rituals into the new so that people might be gently persuaded to accept the way of Christ. Both beliefs incorporated the concept of an afterlife; the Celtic philosophy stated that on certain nights (like Samhain), the barrier between the physical world and the spiritual world was at its "thinnest," allowing spectral figures to come through (Christmas Eve is another of these events, which is why ghost stories like A Christmas Carol were once popular at the holidays). This combined Celtic/Roman/Christian fall festival was imported to the U.S. with the British colonists, but it was not until Irish immigrants arrived in the 19th century that other elements, like the jack o'lantern, came to the fore. In succession, Hallowe'en became a holiday for divination of fortunes, for costumes and increasingly childlike parties, for pranks that grew increasingly malicious, and finally for trick-or-treating.

Bannatyne's brisk, good-natured narrative is supported by magazine excerpts and illustrations from vintage magazines and books, a great basic primer on the haunted holiday.

Halloween: From Pagan Ritual to Party Night, Nicholas Rogers
There is little overlap between the Bannatyne book and this book, which concentrates on certain aspects of the holiday; for instance, was human sacrifice at Samhain as prevalent in Celtic times as folklore indicates, or was this Roman propaganda (touching on the stories of the Wicker Man)? He also goes into detail on Hallowe'en celebrations among the Irish in which customs later became incorporated into the British Guy Fawkes celebration, keeping Hallowe'en as a latecomer holiday in England; how a night of fortunetelling for girls and women was also a night for "innocent" mischief by boys and men that was instead often malicious and damaging, which communities turned into a less damaging evening of fun by the acceptance of the trick or treat custom (and how scare stories like razor blades in apples almost drove trick or treat away); how horror films taking place at Hallowe'en set the stage for bloodier frights in costumes and haunted houses; about the Day of the Dead customs and how some Mexicans feel that the American Hallowe'en has diluted (or polluted) their Day of the Dead; and how the LGBTQ community has embraced the holiday. Since Rogers is Canadian, he also brings a perspective on Canadian Hallowe'en celebrations. A great companion volume to the Bannatyne text.

The Halloween Encyclopedia, Lisa Morton
This is an A-to-Z history of the holiday, from acorns (a fall symbol and also a means of divination) to zoos (which often incorporate Hallowe'en exhibitions, and everything in between, including cross references between holidays which once had rituals that are now exclusive to Hallowe'en (trick or treat, for instance, resembling the "ragamuffin" custom so lovingly narrated by Betty Smith in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn where the children dressed in costumes and were given outdated baked goods and old candies by the local merchants, while also tied back to the custom of "souling" for All Souls Day, or the customs shared by both Guy Fawkes Day/Bonfire Night and Hallowe'en in the British isles.

The nice thing about this reference is that Morton doesn't just mention old tales (like "Tam Lin" and "Tam O'Shanter") and rhymes, she summarizes the tales and prints the verses, and she doesn't just briefly chat about all the old fortune-telling methods, but mentions all of them and compares one to the other. The other quarter holidays, like Lammas and Beltane, are given entries, and even Christmas customs like mumming which resemble "guising" on Hallowe'en is included. She also mentions modern customs both good (the gay community's embracement of the holiday) and bad (Devil's Night in Detroit and other cities in which fires are set and property destroyed). The text is liberally illustrated with vintage woodcuts and old Hallowe'en postcards (sadly, however, in black and white rather than in color). This is a great text reference to all symbols and customs Hallowe'en and should be in every spook lover's library!

Here are more items you can read online:

The Book of Hallowe'en by Ruth Edna Kelley is a classic text from 1919.

The first account of an American Hallowe'en party was written by Helen Elliott for "Godey's Lady's Book" (the bestselling women's magazine of the 19th century). Here is "Hallowe'en" in its entirety.

Here is the story of a boys' Hallowe'en party in Hallowe'en at Merryvale by Alice Hale Burns from 1916.

Souling and Other Old Hallowe'en Customs

Today Hallowe'en is best known for children "trick or treating" door to door or possibly going to a community center or church event, and adults having costume parties. The trick or treat tradition goes back centuries when the poor went door to door begging for food and were given "soul cakes." In exchange, the poor person would pray for the soul of someone who had passed on.

Soul Cake Recipe

Ingredients:

• 8 cups flour
• 2 cups milk
• 4 yeast cakes
• 8 egg yolks
• 2 cups sugar
• 1 teaspoon grated orange rind
• 1 teaspoon grated lemon rind
• 1/2 cup soft butter
• 1 teaspoon salt

Dissolve yeast cakes in 1/2 cup of the milk. Make thin sponge by mixing yeast with rest of milk and 1 cup of flour. Mix thoroughly, sprinkle top lightly with flour and set aside to rise. Add salt to egg yolks, beat until thick and lemon-colored. Add sugar, rinds, and mix with sponge. Add two cups of flour, alternating with the milk, and knead for half-hour

Add remaining flour and butter and continue to knead until the dough comes away from the hand. Set in warm place to rise until double in bulk. Separate dough into four parts, roll into long strips and braid into loaf. Brush top with lightly beaten egg yolk and sprinkle with poppy seed. Let rise. Bake in 350° oven for one hour.

From The Holyday Book by Francis X. Weiser, S.J.

Soul cakes were also given out near Christmas on December 21st, which was formerly St. Thomas' Day.

While everyone now associates hollowed-out pumpkins with frightening faces as "jack o'lanterns," the original "jack" was a huge, hollowed-out turnip that looked like this. The jack o'lantern custom was brought from Ireland, where pumpkins did not exist at that time. Photos of carved turnips from that time were quite creepy!

At Hallowe'en parties in the late 19th and early 20th century, it was almost de rigueur to perform fortune-telling games. Tea leaves (back before the days of tea bags) were read, hot lead was melted and dripped into cold water to form shapes, women walked backward with mirrors in order to see their future husbands, and more. Read about these games here!

Rudolph Day, October 2018

"Rudolph Day" is a way of keeping the Christmas spirit alive all year long. You can read a Christmas book, work on a Christmas craft project, listen to Christmas music or watch a Christmas movie.

Autumn makes me nostalgic for days gone by: going to the Scituate Reservoir to gather autumn leaves, taking a yearly trek to New Hampshire on Columbus Day weekend to "see the colors," buying fresh-picked apples at Highland Orchards, putting the summer clothes in the attic and retrieving the winter ones from the same place, your winter coat needing airing because it reeked of camphor. Autumn was new school shoes, and a new skirt and/or jumper or two (no pants allowed on girls back then!) and a blouse or sweater or two to go with them, and new knee socks for when the snow began to fly. By the time Thanksgiving was over it was time to seriously think about Christmas: what you could get mom and dad with your meager allowance, what you wanted to ask Santa Claus for (and was he real, anyway?), dreaming about decorating the tree and putting up the Nativity set and dinner with the relatives.

So I picked up this book I found in an antique shop a few years ago and started to read.


Merry Christmas, Mr. Baxter, Edward Streeter
Perhaps you had to read it when it was published.

This humorous Christmas-themed novel was written back in 1956 by Streeter, who wrote two books which were later made into the much-remembered classic films Father of the Bride and Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation. I've never read any of his books, but if the description of them holds he seems to write about good-natured businessmen who like their lives to proceed in orderly fashion, nice fellows who love their wives and their children, but who are sometimes bewildered by them and the fuss that goes on around certain events. In this case, George Baxter is once again overwhelmed by the Christmas season. He wishes to spend less money and have less fuss, but there are traditions to uphold and people you don't want to forget, even if you can't make out their signature on a Christmas card or don't want to attend that one more office Christmas party.

So George pretty much just goes with the flow—or perhaps the inexorable tide or flood—as October leads into November, thence to December and finally to Christmas Eve.

Streeter makes some funny commentary on the Christmas rush we push ourselves into because it's "traditional," including the tipping of service employees (who apparently multiply at the holidays), going to office parties where they're just waiting for the boss to leave, and leaving one's shopping until Christmas Eve and coping with hysterical crowds in packed stores while churchbells ring out "Silent Night." (There's also a bit of pointed commentary about salesladies who misconstrue Baxter's shopping for his wife as shopping for Someone Else.) He also paints a vivid picture of New York City's hustle and bustle and sheer claustrophobic feeling, interspersed with brief minutes of beauty, like choirboys singing carols at Grand Central Station. I guess I just kept waiting for something unexpected or heartwarming to happen. (Nothing sentimental or corny, mind you; it's not that type od humor, but more like Saki or Thurber.) It didn't. Christmas went on as usual, his wife was tired out, but somehow they loved it all the same. So I apologize to fans of this book if I didn't like it quite as well as you did, as it seems to be much beloved.

However, my favorite passages in this book were these, which I felt kinship with: "In New York the fall was to the year what morning was to the day and youth to a lifetime. It was a beginning time, a time of adventure, a period when the city became like ancient Bagdad—a place of mystery and romance where anything might happen.

"In the fall Mr. Baxter felt ready for the world, vigorous, as after a good night's sleep. He was always full of resolutions and determinations in the fall, unperturbed by previous failures. It was then that one renewed business connections and picked up the friendly threads of social intercourse. It was the time when new plays appeared, new books were published, football games were played, and the countryside burst into vivid reds and yellows. Elections were at hand. Then came Thanksgiving and before you knew it Christmas had caught  you completely unprepared as usual.

"Then, right in the middle of everything, came that thing called New Year's Day. What was new about it? Mid-year's Day perhaps if you had to have a holiday so soon after Christmas. Certainly it didn't mark the beginning of anything, except, possibly, that by the first of January everyone was beginning to pant slightly and to think of winter vacations. To call this New Year's Day was like firing a starting gun in the middle of a race."

Past Pursuits: Nutting

Judging by its appearance in old literature, "going nutting" was a prime pursuit for both boys and girls (while references usually peg this as a boy's sport, I have seen stories in which girls go nutting as well, although they are frequently left at a campsite to sort out the nuts) in the 19th century. Perhaps "city folk" could get nuts in the big markets that existed—Dickens mentions nuts being sold in the London markets at Christmastime—but others who went to the country or lived in rural areas with woods nearby preferred to find theirs fresh and free. Butternuts, a type of walnut, and walnuts themselves (also black walnuts, which are a different nut) were popular, as were beechnuts. In this poem, chestnuts were also harvested; once plentiful across the United States, the majority were killed by a chestnut blight that arrived via ships trading in Asia. There are such a thing as "horse chestnuts," but these are not the edible goodies that show up in the supermarkets in the fall. Those come from Europe, and there are still sold by hot chestnut vendors on the street, especially at German Christmas markets. Chestnut dressing to go in the Thanksgiving turkey used to be very popular before the blight, but is now fairly rare.

Once harvested, the nuts would be kept in an attic or root cellar and brought out as treats in the winter. As noted in this poem, the nuts provided pleasure twice, once by the gathering, then by the eating.

"Nutting-Time" is from the November 1883 issue of "St. Nicholas," its author listed merely as "H.I."

The month was October, the frosts had come down,
The woodlands were scarlet and yellow and brown;
The harvests were gathered, the nights had grown chill,
But warm was the day on the south of the hill.

'T was there with our bags and our baskets we went,
And searching the dry leaves we busily bent;
The chestnuts were big and the beech-nuts were small,
But both sorts were welcome to boys in the fall.

And when, in the ashes beneath the bright flame,
On eves of November, with laughter and game,
The sweetmeats are roasted, we recollect still
How fine was the day on the south of the hill.

Boo-Tiful

I haven't put up my Hallowe'en decorations in a while because we were either otherwise occupied (like hospitals), on vacation in October, or because I didn't have time. I decided I needed to cull out my stuff since I wasn't putting it up, to just keep what I loved. So that's done, and I have a nice, reasonable amount of decorations up without having to take all the autumn things down.

In the foyer.

The witch has a color-changing LED.

Hallowe'en tree. Mini-bat, Snoopy, owl, raven and big owl from Hallmark.

Kitchen pass-through. "I got a rock" ornament center, Harry at left, Renfield at right.

The glass pumpkin and friends. The lights are encased in plastic leaves.

Old vintage reproductions (cat, pumpkin goblin, cornucopia) with new (children at rear).

Autumn Lends Itself to Poetry

"Poem Beginning with a Line from It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown"
Maggie Smith

Just look—nothing but sincerity 

as far as the eye can see—

the way the changed leaves,

flapping their yellow underbellies

in the wind, glitter. The tree

looks sequined wherever

the sun touches. Does anyone

not see it? Driving by a field

of spray-painted sheep, I think

the world is not all changed.

The air still ruffles wool

the way a mother’s hand

busies itself lovingly in the hair

of her small boy. The sun

lifts itself up, grows heavy

treading there, then lets itself

off the hook. Just look at it

leaving—the sky a tigereye

banded five kinds of gold

and bronze—and the sequin tree

shaking its spangles like a girl

on the high school drill team,

nothing but sincerity. It glitters

whether we’re looking or not.


"Merry Autumn"
Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872 - 1906

It’s all a farce,—these tales they tell
      About the breezes sighing,

And moans astir o’er field and dell,

     Because the year is dying.

Such principles are most absurd,—

     I care not who first taught ’em;

There’s nothing known to beast or bird

     To make a solemn autumn.

In solemn times, when grief holds sway

     With countenance distressing,

You’ll note the more of black and gray

     Will then be used in dressing.

Now purple tints are all around;

     The sky is blue and mellow;

And e’en the grasses turn the ground

     From modest green to yellow.

The seed burrs all with laughter crack

     On featherweed and jimson;

And leaves that should be dressed in black

     Are all decked out in crimson.

A butterfly goes winging by;

     A singing bird comes after;

And Nature, all from earth to sky,

     Is bubbling o’er with laughter.

The ripples wimple on the rills,

     Like sparkling little lasses;

The sunlight runs along the hills,

     And laughs among the grasses.

The earth is just so full of fun

     It really can’t contain it;

And streams of mirth so freely run

     The heavens seem to rain it.

Don’t talk to me of solemn days

     In autumn’s time of splendor,

Because the sun shows fewer rays,

     And these grow slant and slender.

Why, it’s the climax of the year,—

     The highest time of living!—

Till naturally its bursting cheer

     Just melts into thanksgiving.

"October"

by Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow's wind, if it be wild
Should waste them all
The crows above the forest call;
To-morrow they may form and go
O hushed October morning mild
Begin the hours of this day slow
Make the day seem to us less brief
Hearts not averse to being beguiled
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away;
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes' sake along the wall.

"Autumnal Tints"

Walden Pond in autumn by Toby McGuire

This was Henry David Thoreau's final essay, edited during his last few days of suffering from tuberculosis. Published in "The Atlantic," October 1862.

Autumn: A Spiritual Biography of the Season

edited by Gary Schmidt and Susan M. Felch

This is a nifty collection of seasonal essays (there are also books on the other season), whether they touch on the beauty of the natural world or whether they ponder deeper about the ending of the year and its connection with dying (the E.B. White essay poignantly demonstrates this) and the descent into winter darkness (although at least one of these essays, noting that the falling of the leaves always leave a bud or a seed behind, state that autumn is actually a rebirth). I have to admit what called me about this book was the big colorful maple tree on its cover!

These are essays and excerpts and even some poetry about the autumn season, ranging from the Book of Ruth in the Bible to The Rural Life by Verl Klinkenborg to that piece by White. One of my very favorites was "Autumnal Tints," an essay about autumn leaves by Thoreau, which was the final essay he worked on, passing away from tuberculosis only a few days later; his contemporary Susan Fenimore Cooper also has a contribution here. Alan M. Young, Alix Kates Shulman, and Wyman Richardson all provide observations of nature's autumnal change. There's a wistful commentary about baseball season coming to an end and a piece from Tracy Kidder about the first week of school and Garret Keizer's fascinating tale of being the winder of a venerable town clock. Verl Klinkenborg provides an essay about October and there is also an excerpt from May Sarton's House by the Sea. And these are just a few of the delights within.

The only thing that surprised me was that there was nothing at all from Gladys Taber, as this appeared to be the perfect volume to highlight some of Taber's essays! Otherwise, pretty perfect; need to hunt up the winter volume!

Michaelmas Day

from "Legendary Dartmoor"

The feast of St. Michael the Archangel. Goose is the traditional main course of the big meal of the day and should be eaten on Michaelmas to ensure prosperity for the coming year. In the past, the fall term at British universities and public schools began on or around Michaelmas Day, and the period until Christmas recess was called "Michaelmas Term." Oxford University and Cambridge University still call the fall period the Michaelmas term.

There is also a lovely purple flower called a Michaelmas daisy, a member of the aster family.

Michaelmas Day, from Chambers' Book of Days (1869)

Michaelmas, 29th September, at Historic.UK

About Michaelmas, at Carrots For Michaelmas Blog

Why Do We Celebrate Michaelmas? at City of Lakes Waldorf School Site

St. Michael's Day in Old Ireland, from Irish Culture and Customs Site

Michaelmas, at Lavender and Lovage Site (recipes)

Autumn Poetry

"October"
Isabel Neill

Now gypsy fires burn bright in every tree,
Now countless vagrant birds are winging south;
The white roads beckon and, unsought, yet sweet,
Old songs of nomad days are in my mouth.

I burn with every tree, I fly with every bird,
And know some gypsy witch, with mystic skill,
Has traced her crooked pattern across my heart.


"Autumn"
Marjorie Marshall

Mellow sunlight, soothing, warm,
Ripened grains which gaily bloom on the hills,
Swaying stalks like graceful arms
There beneath the sun at noon, rough and bright.

Maple leaves turned richly brown—
Save where deep pink blush is seen near the edge—
Wafted gently, softly down
To cool stones, moss-brown and green, nestled there.

Russet apples braving cold,
Sulking 'neath protecting leaves from the sun;
Burnished skins hid hearts of gold,
Such enticing loot for thieves, fit for gods!

Knoll and copse now redly tinged,
Quivering in the amber air, yield their fruit.
Autumn's almoner, the wind,
Scatters them like blessings rare on the earth.

"Autumn"

a sonnet by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,
   With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,
   Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,
   And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,
   Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand
   Outstretched with benedictions o’er the land,
   Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!
Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended
   So long beneath the heaven’s o’er-hanging eaves;
Thy steps are by the farmer’s prayers attended;
   Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;
And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid,
   Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves!

Seeking Autumn...

Alas, summer's claws are still painfully entrenched...but there is hope, even after a dreadful few weeks when the weather decided it had not yet given us enough of stifling, appallingly heavy air pulled like thick lint into the lungs and sizzling rays that touched skin with tongues of fire, and laid upon us temperatures in the 90s to torture us further. Now storms are drifting in from the south, flattening temperatures into the tedious 80s and adding humidity to the mix.

Sadly, the only two singular things about this summer have been that I discovered a traditional "Scotch thistle" plant, with its unique purple head, blooming at the side of the main road, and that I have seen more butterflies this year than I have seen in this neighborhood in ages: big yellow butterflies that skirt the tops of cars as they dash by, saffron daredevils with gossamer wings; medium-sized brown butterflies with their upper wings tipped in white as if they have been skimming cream from the tops of unpasteurized milk bottles; and small black butterflies who dart in and out of backyards and around heads, and zoom by the nose of an uncurious terrier. Indeed, Tucker is not into botany or entomology, as evidenced when I noted a virtual exodus of caterpillars from flanking rows of overgrown cedar bushes alongside a neighbor's driveway, determined black creatures with fetching red "racing stripes" setting off down the sidewalk as if on a mission, and he studiously ignored them to pee on a weed.

Still, a few weeks ago, while once again walking the dog, I was astonished to see fallen leaves out under one of the trees at the front of our subdivision. Tall chocolate-trunked trees with small elliptic leaves and peeling bark had left a carpet of crunching brown and green-flicked-with-yellow scattered upon the concrete sidewalk, banking up against the compact bushes at the foot of the trees, caught between their shiny, waxy green leaves. I picked up one leaf that was ruddy-speckled and practically breathed "autumn" to me, despite the constant drone of the cicadas. Checking overhead I could see that the two spindly oak trees out front were already showing signs of browning leaves and on the opposite side of the entrance, insect-speckled maple leaves dotted the ground under their tree trunks.

And suddenly, within a day of the appearance of the leaves, the constant rising-and-falling sough of the cicadas went silent. I trod early in the morning on my long walk to avoid the heat, skirting the sun as a vampire does, but they did not return, leaving the morning sounds to the intermittent songs of the birds and, more constantly, the fiddling of the crickets. There seem to be two kinds of crickets, one group that sings the regulation, rhythmic song of individual chirps that can be counted, the others with a sweeter, higher-pitched hum that make a constant song like a lullaby. One longs to open the window and doze to their siren sound, but it's still too smothery, too sticky, too summer.

Now I can't turn to the right or left without spying some sign of an autumn valiantly trying to arrive, like the trio of trees up at the corner that have already lost their leaves, as if they are declaring, "Look, it's time we got some sleep. I don't care what temperature the sun has made it!" Or an entire empty lot scattered broadside with tossing gilded heads of goldenrod bobbing in the backwash of car exhaust. The view out the dining room windows that shows new yellow leaves popping out every day on the tulip trees. The slim leaves of the dogwood trees turning rusty as if they were left out too long in the rain. The heady scent of mulching leaves slowly accumulating under the trees trying to outdo the odor of broiling asphalt at midday.

It's so close, it's so close I can almost taste it: gingerbread, hot chocolate, apple cider. Almost feel it: soft sweatshirts, cold breezers, wind that makes you feel alive. Almost see it: leaves of gold and tangerine and bronze and scarlet, bare branches of trees, bright blue sky that hurts the eyes.

Go away, summer. You've had your miserable stinking sizzle. Let us have our joy back. Please?

Rudolph Day, September 2018

"Rudolph Day" is a way of keeping the Christmas spirit alive all year long. You can read a Christmas book, work on a Christmas craft project, listen to Christmas music or watch a Christmas movie.

Remember being a kid at Christmas, looking forward to gifts? Even if you weren't taught the Santa story, it was a special time. Even if times were tough, your mom and/or dad probably went without something else to get you a little treat, even if it was only a coloring book and crayons, or a little doll or a Hot Wheels car. When things got bad, maybe a relative or a church group filled in.

But as you got older, if you were lucky, you learned the real truth: You could be Santa, and make other people happy. Remember the words of the mail carrier Kluger in Santa Claus is Comin' to Town? At the end he addresses people who pooh-pooh Christmas and offers this: "But what would happen if we all tried to be like Santa and learned to give as only he can give: of ourselves, our talents, our love and our hearts? Maybe we could all learn Santa's beautiful lesson and maybe there would finally be peace on Earth and good will toward men."

This month's books are all about the joy of giving.


Chicken Soup for the Soul: Christmas Treasury for Kids, edited by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Hansen, and Irene Dunlap
Think of this as an Advent calendar in a book. The 25 stories can be read once a night through Christmas. They all involve children in some way, whether it's a story told by a child (about half the stories were written by tweens or teens) or by an adult reminiscing about an event that happened in childhood. They're all heartwarmers, including the one about the elderly dog, which didn't seem to fit with the theme, but was an "awwww" nevertheless. The book also contains little comic strips like "Dennis the Menace" and "Family Circus" that fit the holiday theme. Most of the stories are about kids learning it's better to give than to receive, and really touch your heart.

A Louisa May Alcott Christmas, edited by Raina Moore
Louisa May Alcott Christmas Treasury, edited by Stephen W. Hines
Back in the 1990s, Stephen Hines made a stir in the historical community by resurrecting Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Missouri Ruralist" farm wife columns in a set of books. In 1999, he rediscovered a Louisa May Alcott Christmas novella, "Patty's Place," about an orphaned girl looking for a family to love her, in an old children's magazine, and published it as The Quiet Little Woman, with two other Christmas tales, "Rosa's Tale," about a horse who tells her story to the female protagonist on Christmas Eve when animals can talk, and "Tilly's Christmas," about a poor girl who takes in an injured bird on Christmas Eve. Alcott was very much in the news at that point as one of her previously unknown adult "blood and thunder" stories had been found and recently published. A few years later, Hines published "Kate's Choice," another story with Christmas providing the pivotal scene (a story a bit akin to Eight Cousins) with two other Alcott Christmas stories, and finally a third book of three stories.

In 2002, the aformentioned six stories as well as some others, for a total of nineteen stories and poems, were published as Louisa May Alcott's Christmas Treasury. Two years later, Harper Festival paperbacks published A Louisa May Alcott Christmas with twenty stories and poems.

The two books have some overlap: the same ten stories appear in both. One story is known as "What Love Can Do" in the Hines book and "How It All Happened" in the Harper paperback, and the wording is slightly different. (Several of the stories are "adapted" by Hines, which I find irritating; I didn't need the original stories to be modified; the most egregious of these is "What Love Can Do," where Hines changes the name of a character—why?) The Harper paperback "cheats" a bit since the first two stories, "An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving" and "The Silver Party," are actually Thanksgiving stories, and there is a piece called "Cousin Tribulation's Story" taking place on New Year's Day, that recounts the real-life Alcott girls giving up their holiday breakfast to a poverty-stricken family, which later made its appearance in Little Women as a tale of the March girls giving away their breakfast, with the father character not appearing.

The collection in the Hines' book is slightly marred by his heavy-handed afterwards to several of the stories where he moralizes endlessly by explaining what Alcott was trying to get across and comparing the situations in her stories to her real-life. Very snooze-making and I don't think Alcott requires afterwards to explain herself! (In fact, I think she'd have been rather indignant.) One of the stories in the Hines' volume is the Christmas chapter from Little Women and "Becky's Christmas Dream" is curious in that it's the same basic story as "Patty's Place/A Quiet Little Woman," but shorter and with fantasy dream elements where Patty's story is played straight. "Gwen's Adventure in the Snow" is also misplaced, as it is not a Christmas story, but simply a winter story.

Together the books make a veritable feast of Louisa May Alcott Christmas goodness, either tales of wealthy girls (and one little boy) helping those poorer than themselves, or of earnest poor children trying to make a Christmas for younger brothers or sisters. The one exception is "Mrs. Podger's Teapot," the delightful story of a middle-aged widow and the bachelor partner of her deceased husband trying to "make Christmas" for a half-starved street boy, and finding something else altogether (it has an almost Dickensian touch). Both worth finding, or look for the stories online, most of them, including "Patty's Place," are on Gutenberg.org in Alcott's short story collections.

Our Autumn "Social Season" Begins

The first of our autumn events arrived today: the annual Yellow Daisy Festival. We arose early to eat a quick breakfast and so Tucker could have his dog walk before we set out on the 37 mile drive to Stone Mountain Park. Traffic, of course, was minimal for a Sunday morning, and we got there at nine o'clock with our early pass. It was nice and quiet for a while, but it was already warm and very sticky. I was perspiring profusely before we were halfway through. It was harder walking than DragonCon for me, and I almost missed one farmstand that we really wanted to buy from.

As always, the crafts are a mix of everything: cute kids' clothes, toys, lots of different types of jewelry (the person who I got the Doctor Who headband from had a Walking Dead headband this year), homemade clothing (one lady had beautiful hand-woven sweater/shawl type items I would have loved, but they were very expensive, and worth every penny of the work!), pottery, food items of all sorts (jams, maple syrups, soup and casserole mixes, nuts, sauces), tools to work with foods (barbecue forks, hand-carved wooden spoons, bread knives), metalwork items, the occasional furniture items, hammocks, textile crafts—well, name it, it's there. As usual, there are lovely things we'd like, but can't afford: weathervanes, yard decorations, hammocks...but we must pass them by. However, James did get a new leather wallet, and then we stocked up on food goodies for the rest of the year: Smack Yo' Mama barbecue sauce; MeadowCroft Farms sweet onion relish (we love this stuff on steak and pork and even lamb!) and also sweet pepper and onion relish for James and some blackberry jam for me (till we can get to Ellijay for the blackberry spread I love); First Sergeant products (bourbon pineapple and brandy cherry sauces for us, and medium hot salsa for his burritos); and the first of our two fudge dessert indulgences. I also bought another bar of dog soap.

I was exhausted when we got done and we'd only been there two hours. We are usually there longer, but I did not buy anything from Country Pick'ns this year. It made me a little melancholy, but I've kind of mined them out for my interests. I have Christmas, winter, fall, seashore, kitchen, and pet elements all over the house at various times of the year, and I made fall and Hallowe'en items into a Thanksgiving theme. Her other themes are camping (which I used for a wedding gift), beach, gardening, sewing, and cooking, and I don't do any of those. Would have loved to have seen them do art/painting, writing, etc. But it's sad to have to "abandon" them.

We came directly home, getting caught in a short shower which quit the minute we got the power chair in the house. Spent the afternoon enjoying the air conditioning. I even fell asleep.

James made pork chops for dinner with the bourbon pineapple sauce with a cucumber side, we caught up on Mad About You, and now we're watching stuff off the DVR. It's almost as "high" as the to-be-read piles.

Now Is the Time to Take It Slowly

Each year about this time, I pick up the following three books:

• Celebrate the Wonder: A Family Christmas Treasury by Kristin M. Tucker and Rebecca Lowe Warren
• Unplug the Christmas Machine by Jo Robinson and Jean Coppock Staeheli
• The Christmas Survival Book by Alice Slaikeu Lawhead 

These are three volumes about preparing for the holidays—not the shopping/cooking/crafting experience, but getting the most out of the celebration. While Celebrate the Wonder includes crafts and recipes and "Custom Inspection" check-ins to inspire to you to perhaps adapt a new tradition, all three books address common themes:

1. People expect too much from Christmas, based on commercials, idealized films, and photo spreads in magazines.
2. A belief if you don't spend lots of money and buy "appropriate" gifts, you are not celebrating properly.
3. People expect troubles (family, financial, etc.) to go away at Christmas, and everything will be perfect.
4. Your Christmas must be perfect or it's not really Christmas.
5. Too many people are overscheduled at Christmas, whether it be for family visits, church events, or Christmas experiences (like The Nutcracker, cooking certain foods, etc.).
6. Women do all the work at Christmas and men feel left out; sometimes children also feel left out.

Celebrate the Wonder and Survival Book have a strong, but not overpowering Christian flavor that will be negligible to people who celebrate the more secular side of the holiday, but all three advise similar things: if a tradition does not make you happy, consider dropping it or revising it (visit relatives at a different time of year or don't bake so much or bake early); spread Christmas festivities over the entire Christmastide season (December 25 through Epiphany, January 6) rather than cramming it into one or two days;  ideas for gifts that are ecologically or ethnically thoughtful or nonstandard (gifts of time, family gifts, nontraditional gifts like a museum membership, park pass, etc.); the idea that you cannot change others, you can only change yourself or your perceptions; scheduling events so that you, your spouse, and any children are not overwhelmed; and toning down the influence of television and media on Christmas expectations.

The Survival book also has an occasional tongue-in-cheek look at holiday excesses, like chapter one's vision of an idealized holiday vs. Christmas reality, and some humorous drawings. Both this book and Unplug the Christmas Machine have exercises you can do to improve your celebrations. Celebrate the Wonder has beautiful pencil drawings opening each chapter and an idea for an activity for every day leading up to Christmas to inspire you to think up events of your own.

I believe all these books may be out of print, but you may want to find them at a reasonable price. While not necessary to have all of them, the trio provide a nice overview of getting the most out of Advent, Christmastide, and Epiphany, and will prompt you to do more reading and less rushing.

The "Ber" Months Arrive

Labor Day is always a milestone at our house. DragonCon is over for another year, and we are looking forward to our "social season," which starts with the Yellow Daisy Festival, followed by Taste of Smyrna, the Georgia Apple Festival, the fall Jonquil Festival, Hallowe'en, Thanksgiving, Apple Annie [craft show], Christmas, and New Year's. The Christmas Movies and Music group I'm a part of calls these "the ber months." It means fall decorations followed by Thanksgiving decorations culminating in Christmas decorations everywhere, and finally winter finery early in the new year. It means gingerbread and "sweatshirt weather" and autumn leaves and craft shows and fresh-picked apples. It means the occasional game night, lighted homes with welcoming vibes, cool breezes that whisk leaves and straw into flight, migrating geese heading south, and warm cuddly wraps.

This autumn will be a little different for us, as James has surgery scheduled for October 4. We are hoping it will solve his problems so he can finally discard the foley catheter and be shut of UTIs and prostatitis. It's a little scary, and has put a bit of a damper on the joy of autumn arriving. It's difficult to talk about, so I won't. I'll just think about...autumn.

In the meantime, some autumn links:

⦿ Where can you find that classic Windows "Autumn" wallpaper scene?

⦿ How Much Do You Know About Autumn? a BBC Quiz

⦿ Autumn: The Cooling-Off Season

⦿ Classical music for autumn (1 hour 43 minutes)

An "Apple Tree" Autumn

"There is a smell in the air, the smell of autumn, a yeasty, damp, fruity smell, carrying a hint of smoke and a hint, too, of decay. It fills me with nostalgia, but I do not know for what. It is a smell I love, for this is and has always been my favorite season. They said that as I grew older I should recoil from it, the winding down of another year, the descent towards winter, the end of summer pleasures, that I would begin to shift my affections towards spring, when all is looking forward, all is blossoming and greening and sprouting up. But I do not do so. Spring so often promises what in the end it never pays, spring can cheat and lie and disappoint... But I have never been let down by autumn, to me it is always beautiful, always rich, it always gives in heaping measure... And I love the wild days of autumn, the west winds that rock the apple tree and bring down the leaves and fruit and nuts in showers, and the rain after the days of summer dryness. I love the mists and the first frosts that make the ground crisp..."

. . . . . . Susan Hill, from The Magic Apple Tree: A Country Year

Rudolph Day, August 2018

"Rudolph Day" is a way of keeping the Christmas spirit alive all year long. You can read a Christmas book, work on a Christmas craft project, listen to Christmas music or watch a Christmas movie. This month I've been reading two books of short stories.


A Christmas Memory, One Christmas & The Thanksgiving Visitor, Truman Capote
This slim volume collects all of Capote's famous holiday stories together. "A Christmas Memory," the most well-known, is the simple, joyful and slightly melancholy story of young "Buddy" and his best friend, his elder cousin Sook. Each year before Christmas she declares it "fruitcake weather" and together they bake for people they have met and liked. Later they hunt for a Christmas tree and make gifts for each other. This is a classic for a reason: it's a heartwarming story. In "One Christmas," Buddy visits his absentee father while being half homesick and half looking forward to his father buying him fabulous gifts. Sadly, the visit goes badly. "The Thanksgiving Visitor" returns to the familiar home in Alabama and Buddy's relationship with Sook. He is aghast when the kindly Sook, who knows the boy's mother, invites bully Odd Henderson to the family Thanksgiving dinner, then decides to take an epic revenge on his tormenter. It doesn't quite work out as planned. Sook, of course, is luminous, but if you were charmed by Buddy in the first two stories, he comes off less well in the final tale.

A New Christmas Treasury, edited by Jack Newcombe
The trouble with collecting books of Christmas short stories is that eventually there are stories that always repeat, including part or all of A Christmas Carol. This collection by Jack Newcombe tries to break that mold, but there are some repeats here: "A Christmas Memory," for one, Andersen's "Fir Tree," Washington Irving's "Christmas Eve," the poem "Christmas Trees" by Frost, such sweet repeats as Grahame's "Dulce Domum" and Potter's "Tailor of Gloucester," and of course Virginia assured there is a Santa Claus. However, Newcombe tries hard to avoid most of the cliches, and sometimes it works. Instead of A Christmas Carol, we join the Pickwick Club on a Christmas journey, and, less successfully, join a snowbound man at "The Holly Tree," an inn, a tale I found a bit pointless. John Cheever's "Christmas is a Sad Season for the Poor" has a touch of cynicism to it that is amusing, a collection of chapters from Thomas Hardy's Under the Greenwood Tree revisits the old custom of "the Waits" who sing carols along the country roads, and there are two nostalgic reminisces from Coffin ("Christmas in Maine") and Engle's "An Iowa Christmas." Instead of Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Mr. Edwards Meets Santa Claus," we get a grimmer Christmas during The Long Winter.

Some stories are just sad, like Ring Lardner's "Old Folks Christmas" in which a couple prepare a fabulous holiday for their college-age children, only to find the kids want to spend all their time with their fast-living friends, and "A Christmas Dinner," in which the only friendly face a South African white boy sees while visiting his family is a wandering black man who shows up after the family has left him home alone to do something else. Also noted: Shirley Jackson's "A Visit to the Bank," a classic Christmas ghost story "The White Road," and George Plimpton's funny tale of one-upsmanship, "The Christmas Bird Count." A selection of poetry, O'Henry's "Gifts of the Magi," essays, and short Christmas excerpts found out this volume well worth finding despite the occasional off piece.

Rudolph Day, July 2018

"Rudolph Day" is a way of keeping the Christmas spirit alive all year long. You can read a Christmas book, work on a Christmas craft project, listen to Christmas music or watch a Christmas movie. Once again, I'm reading a Christmas book (or, rather, books), this time for "Christmas in July." In fact, one of the books takes place during a "Christmas in July" celebration. All are cozy mysteries, and have a lot in common: they both take place in small towns where the industry revolves around Christmas, and involve local women who left home for bright lights in the big city, only to return home after romantic catastrophe to work in their hometowns.


Hark the Herald Angels Slay, Vicki Delany
This is the third, and I hope not the last, in Delany's "Year Round Christmas" Mystery series, set in the upstate New York town of Rudolph. I'll admit I was iffy about the first one, but Merry Wilkinson and her family and friends have grown on me. In this entry, it's Rudolph's annual "Christmas in July" celebration, and Merry, proprietor of the gift shop Mrs. Claus's Treasures, thinks her biggest problem is what to wear in the boat parade in which her father, who plays Santa Claus, will feature.

Then her ex-boyfriend Max walks back into her life. Merry used to live in New York City, working at the popular lifestyle magazine Jennifer's Lifestyle (think Country Living crossed with Bella Grace) and was engaged to Max until he dropped her for the new manager, Jennifer Johnstone's granddaughter Erica. Merry came home to Rudolph and is now happy running her shop and being in a developing relationship with woodworker Alan Anderson. She wants Max out of her life, but Jennifer's Lifestyle is planning to do a story on Rudolph, and spoiled Erica is part of the group.

A day later Merry runs back to her shop to pick up something she forgot, and finds Max strangled in her office, and her assistant Jackie missing. While Erica shrieks that Merry is the killer because Max "spurned" her, Detective Simmons makes Jackie the prime suspect, but Merry can't believe Jackie would do such a thing. So she'll have to prove her innocence.

I was pleasantly surprised by the story, which included a twist I wasn't expecting, even if it was a bit of a cliché. Even Merry's adolescent St. Bernard fits into the tale well, although he's portrayed by a Bernese Mountain Dog on the cover. If it is the last book in the series, it ended up in a good place.

Twas the Knife Before Christmas, Jacqueline Frost (and The Twelve Slays of Christmas)
I actually read the sequel to this "Christmas Tree Farm" mystery (Knife) before the first book. I'm not entirely sure if I would have read the second book if I'd read them in order.

In Twelve Slays, Holly White returned to her hometown of Mistletoe, Maine, from Portland after her fiancé dumped her fifteen days before their Christmas Eve wedding for a yoga instructor. Her parents run Reindeer Games, a four-generation Christmas tree farm, and Holly arrived home just in time for the annual Twelve Days of Reindeer Games events, and for everyone to be angry at Margaret Fenwick from the town Historical Society because she'd been badgering everyone to make the town comply to historical society parameters. The day before the Reindeer Games are to start, Margaret is found stabbed to death with one of the markers Bud White uses for his Christmas trees. New sheriff Evan Gray considers Holly's dad his prime suspect at first, and he's shut down Reindeer Games right before their biggest days of business a year. Holly feels the need to clear her dad and starts asking questions—and starts getting threats.

In the second book (Knife), Holly's wealthy friend Caroline West, who's started a cupcake business with "Cookie" Cutter, owner of the local Christmas craft shop, is accused of killing Derek Waggoner, who started to put the moves on her during a date arranged by her disapproving parents (they hate her working "in trade") after one of the monogrammed knives from her shop is found to be the murder weapon. Holly can't let her best friend take the rap, and once again starts asking questions. And once again starts getting threatening notes. Sheriff Gray—whose romantic status with Holly amped up in the first novel, but now appears to be off—tells her to stop asking questions.

Of course if she does, the mystery stops here.

I love the town of Mistletoe, Holly's parents, Cookie, Caroline, and even Cindy Lou Who, Holly's cat. I want to visit there during the Twelve Days of Reindeer Games, as they all sound like a blast. I like the fact that Holly's talent at making glass jewelry has borne fruit. I like the moody sheriff formerly of Boston. I love the people of Mistletoe; it's the ideal small town. It's Holly I'm not sure I like. Oh, I love her pluck, but, especially in the first book, she seems immature. I also am irritated that the romance between her and the sheriff took off so quickly; I would have liked to have seen it build. But to be honest I am tired of romances in cozies, especially with the male always being impossibly handsome and heroic. Plus she ends up in distressing danger at the end of both novels; her predicament in Knife is particularly creepy. But I'm a Christmas fan to the end and will be keeping Frost's next "appointment" in Mistletoe.

Something for Christmas in July

Why A Christmas Story is the Greatest Holiday Movie Ever Made.

(Not my choice, but fun reading!)

What is an American?

We're back with the Clark family of Vermont for a July read. Between 1947 and 1956, Vermonter Frances Frost wrote four "Windy Foot" books about a Vermont farm family that saw them around the year, starting at the late summer/early fall county fair, continuing at Christmas and in the spring, and ending on Independence Day. Read more about the Clarks in this post about Maple Sugar for Windy Foot.

As mentioned, I didn't know the fourth book in the series existed until a few years ago. Reading it today is half an exercise in nostalgia, but it's also still relevant to current events.

Toby and his younger sister come home on the last day of school excited: there is going to be an Independence Day parade in town and Betsy is going to be on a float honoring modern farm women with her bull calf Kris while Toby is going to be the flag-bearer in a recreation of the famous painting of George Washington crossing the Delaware. But Toby—who must be the most good-natured, friendliest kid in the world (unless you try to hurt Windy Foot)—has a bee in his bonnet: the eighth grade boy who was chosen to portray George Washington is an Italian boy who came to Vermont six years ago. His parents aren't even citizens, Toby protests, so why should he get to portray the First President of the United States? His family is disturbed by his attitude and his father tells him that until he thinks a little bit more about this business he won't be allowed to carry the flag in the parade. Toby is shocked, and even more shocked when all his friends think Pietro, the Italian boy, is a great choice.

As Toby helps his dad repair their house which was damaged in the spring by a flood, Jim Clark doesn't lecture Toby as they paint a room or even look at the stars together. He won't give him the answer; that would be too easy. Instead he asks Toby to think—with simply an occasional offhand question or remark that makes the boy rethink immigration and what makes an American. But when Pietro himself does the Clarks a kindness, can Toby use what he's learned to see the truth?

Fear not, the plot isn't all serious thought: there are band concerts, family fun, horse training, farm adventures, and a visit from Toby's best friend Tish Burnham. But it's Toby's revelation that makes this one special.

Rudolph Day, June 2018

"Rudolph Day" is a way of keeping the Christmas spirit alive all year long. You can read a Christmas book, work on a Christmas craft project, listen to Christmas music or watch a Christmas movie. Once again, I'm reading a Christmas book (or, rather, books).

It's not only Rudolph Day, but since it's June 25, it's also "Leon Day" (Leon = Noel spelled backward), with six months until Christmas. Garlands and bows are already appearing in craft shops. This brings the trappings of Christmas to mind: the candles, the carols, the special food, the special services at various houses of worship, the creche, the scents. There are many trappings of Christmas, and one of the most celebrated are the gift givers: Santa Claus, Father Christmas, St. Nicholas, La Befana, Grandfather Frost, the Three Kings, St. Lucia...

Santa Claus goes back many years, and Katharine Lee Bates, the woman who gave us "America the Beautiful," popularized the idea of Santa Claus having a wife (although stories mentioning Santa's wife were written earlier) in her 1899 Goody Santa Claus on a Sleigh Ride. But what about Santa's family? Does he have one aside from his wife? Two very different books explore this idea.


The Legend of Holly Claus, Brittney Ryan
Holly Claus is a lush fantasy in the style of 19th century writers like Frank Stockton and Abbie Farwell Brown, and stories like Burnett's Rackety-Packety House, Davy and the Goblin, and Baum's Queen Zixi of Ix, with touches of the Oz books and Andrew Lang's color-titled fairy tale collections. In Ryan's Christmas world, Nikolas, king of the Land of the Immortals, lives in a beautiful castle in a land where the famous names who live forever come when they gain immortality—Galileo, Cadmus, fairies, Roman and Greek gods, centaurs, artists, scientists, religious figures, and more—along with his wife Vivienne. Nikolas' greatest joy is his annual Christmas journey giving gifts to children, and every year he looks forward to their letters. Then one year a young boy named Christopher writes him an unusual letter. He asks for nothing; instead he asks what Santa Claus wants for Christmas. There is no question for Nikolas or Vivienne. What they want is the one thing that does not exist in the Land of the Immortals: a child. A year later, in the autumn, they become the parents of a daughter they name Holly. At her christening party she is showered with gifts both esoteric and practical.

But as with the Sleeping Beauty, there is one being who does not wish Holly well. The evil Herrikhan began his life as a boastful young man who became a cruel king, who then wished to be worshiped as a god. He was punished for his cruelty and his vanity, banished to a wasteland. The only thing that can save him would be a pure heart, given to him from the owner of thus freely. Herrikhan knows Holly will have that pure heart. He escapes his prison long enough to encase Holly's heart in ice. For the rest of her life, unless she gives her heart to him willingly, she will only be able to stay in cold places.

Holly lives an enchanted childhood, playing with her dear friends Tundra, the wise wolf; Alexia, a talkative fox; Euphemia, a snowy owl; and Empy, a little penguin, watching centaurs play games, entertained by fairies, tutored and protected by Sofya, her Russian godmother. But as she grows older, she learns she's not just "sick," she's cursed, and not only does she wish to overcome the curse, but she wishes what every growing young woman does: to go out to live her own life and do some good in the world. Her terrified parents wish that she wouldn't, but Holly knows she must go out into the world, to the place she calls the Empire City (New York City), because it holds the key to her fate.

This is not a fairy tale for younger children. This is based on tales like the original Grimm stories, with cruelty and death appearing. Herrikhan is the embodiment of pure evil and when he first comes to curse Holly he kills Tundra's beloved mate Terra in a terrible way, then curses Holly with no remorse. Ryan remains close to the 19th century fairy tale model by using language that would be appropriate in those stories. For those willing to accept those precepts, this is an amazing and magical tale. The text is accompanied by gorgeously-detailed pen-and-ink illustrations by Laurel Long.

(There is a children's picture-book version of the story, Holly Claus, the Christmas Princess, with the exquisite artwork hand-colored, but the flavor and the "teeth" of the story are lessened by gentling it for the picture-book crowd.)

Christine Kringle, Lynn Brittney
On the opposite side of the coin is this funny, fast, and enjoyable take on the Santa Claus legend. In Brittney's Christmas world, there isn't just one Santa Claus, there is an entity called The Yule Dynasty, a family comprised of all the gift-givers around the world. Each year they have a conference, and in Christine Kringle they are meeting in Finland. The American Santa Claus is nervous because he's about to propose a change to the Yule Dynasty rules. For years the Santa Claus mantle has passed from father to son, but Kris Kringle has only a daughter, Christine. Rather than have Christine marry and have her husband carry on the Santa tradition, he wishes that Christine be given the job when the time comes. He knows he will face opposition: the Yule Dynasty is very male-oriented, although there are female gift-givers in the Dynasty, and this will be a hard sell.

In the meantime teenage Christine makes two new friends, Nick Christmas, son of the British Father Christmas who really isn't all that excited about having to inherit the job (he's even allergic to gingerbread), and "Little K," the son of the Japanese Santa, Santa Kurohsu, who's a brilliant inventor. "Santa K," in fact, will be addressing the Yule Dynasty as well, about Little K's new invention, "Living Lights," Christmas tree lights that don't need to be plugged in and which automatically decorate whatever you throw them at in gorgeous festoons. When the two Santas make their proposals, sure enough there is a protest about "a girl" inheriting the Santa title, and worries about the makers of electric lights conflicting with Little K's new invention.

And then everything comes to a screeching halt when Sky News reports that a little town in England, Plinkbury, has banned Christmas. The Yule Dynasty is horrified; what if this custom spreads? And what has happened in Plinkbury? In a mad scheme thought up by Ma Kringle and the members of the Sisterhood (the female gift-bringers), Christine, Nick, and Little K are sent to Plinkbury to find out what's going on. They will be helped by Nick's mother, Zazu, who is a bit of a scandal in the Yule Dynasty world because she's a "tall elf" and kind of a ditz, but at the same time kind at heart, and  Zazu's brother, Egan, who runs a chain of Christmas stores and has a wild plan of his own.

Brittney takes this crazy idea and runs with it for a delightful romp. The whole Yule Dynasty idea is brilliant—it even includes the Germanic disciplinary assistants like Black Peter, Belsnickel, Schmutzli, etc. who run the convention and the security at the convention—and the Living Lights are fascinating and funny (even what they run on is humorous). The "Yules" are written as very human: they have a big party before the conference begins with karaoke and everyone getting a bit rowdy, the ladies plot against the implacable men, Nick has an aversion to Christmas. Several of the funniest gags are, alas, based on stereotypes: Babbo Natale, the Italian Santa, is in love with his Ferrari, has two sons who are bullies, and his elves are Mafioso-like; Pere Noel (the French Santa) has a chubby son who's a glutton; the Sisterhood is forever battling with the male-chauvinist members of the Dynasty, especially Grandfather Frost, whose mother is Babushka, the senior member of the Sisterhood. Brittney also pokes fun at news reporters and Christmas collectors who have to have everything.

Again, perhaps a young adult read, not a children's one, based on some behaviors and also the use of "Christmas Spirit" in gift chocolates to turn the tide. Fall into the fantasy and coast into this one for the fun of it. You'll have a big grin on your face by the time you come out.

Rudolph Day, May 2018

"Rudolph Day" is a way of keeping the Christmas spirit alive all year long. You can read a Christmas book, work on a Christmas craft project, listen to Christmas music or watch a Christmas movie.

At this time of year, with the temperature already having reached 90°F, my mind has drifted somewhere cold. Not cooler, as in New England or Minnesota, but really cold: Canada. We went to Canada on vacation several times when I was a child, before terrorists ruined the world for everyone and you could just drive over the border with an legal ID and an inspection on the way back. I remember the French signs in Quebec (and having to advise my dad what to do at a gas station, as you could still get leaded gasoline in those days; I remembered that sans was French for "without" and the scientific name for lead being "plumbium"—thank you, science class!—so it was safe to use "sans plumb" gasoline in our new unleaded gasoline car) and staring at the beautiful St. Lawrence River from the heights of the Citadel, having a great time at Canada's Wonderland amusement park, visiting the Canadian side of Niagara Falls and driving to Niagara-by-the-Lake (and eating luscious cherries direct from the orchard on the way). I fell in love with Canada quite early in my life and regret I don't live close enough any longer to make trips there. Some of my favorite television series have even come from Canada, like the spooky soap Strange Paradise, Doctor Simon Locke (filmed in Kleinberg, Ontario), the fun kids' series The Forest Rangers, Kevin Sullivan's Anne of Green Gables and its sequel, and of course the modern Murdoch Mysteries! (Plus the first two Addie Mills' specials were filmed with Ontario standing in for Nebraska.)

Since I already had a book to read for July, instead of celebrating Canada Day, I'm here celebrating Victoria Day (May 21) instead with some Canadian-style Christmas books.

 
Christmas in Canada, by the editors of World Book
This entry in the World Book Encyclopedia "Christmas in..." volumes will put you in a holiday mood immediately, with its cover of the glowing Citadel overlooking the old city of Quebec, and following with an introductory chapter on "Christmas Lights Across Canada," the first Thursday of December when each city in the country turns on its holiday displays with the capital of Ottawa leading the way. Since the first explorers of Canada were French, French customs, like réveillon and Pere Noёl are discussed first, then following in close order are British customs (which from the majority of Canada's national customs derive), German, First Nations tribes that were converted by the French, and Ukrainians who settled the Canadian plains, and who celebrate their Christmas and Twelfth Night in January, based on the Julian calendar. Of course, each province has its own customs: for instance Newfoundlanders still practice mumming, Ukrainian families' celebrations featured a sheaf of wheat called the didukh which represents the family, Inuits hold contests and snowmobile races, "belsnicklers" still roam in Nova Scotia, and everyone enjoys the Santa Claus Parade from Toronto, originated by the now-defunct Eatons Department Store.

Color photos and illustrations illustrate all these customs, and two crafts, recipes, and two traditional Canadian carols, including "The Huron Carol," are included in this volume.

A Pioneer Christmas: Celebrating in the Backwoods in 1841, Barbara Greenwood, illustrations by Heather Collins
This is a sequel to Greenwood's classic A Pioneer Story (A Pioneer Sampler in the U.S.) about the Robertson family, a family of Scots descent who live in the Canadian backwoods in the 1840s, in which the simple, liberally-illustrated family story is broken between chapters to provide projects for young readers and also facts about the historic events behind the story. Once again middle child Sarah (the family consists also of the Robertson parents, older siblings Meg and George, middle brother Willie, little Lizzie, and baby Tommy, plus Granny Robertson) is the focal character as she participates in simple Christmas preparations (helping stone the raisins for the plum pudding, knitting gifts, making pine branches into garlands and pomander balls, and also preparing for the visit of her cousins Andrew and Sophie, who are expecting a baby. But will the snow make the visit impossible? The family also participates in a school exhibition and a "Christmas frolic" where dancing and music are held.

A plum pudding recipe and also one for permanent cookie decorations, plus instructions for making a pomander apple and other typical pioneer gifts are included. A nice peek back into when Christmas was a simpler holiday! I also applaud the illustrator for putting little Tommy in a dress as all small children would have worn in those days!

Christmas With Anne and Other Holiday Stories, L.M. Montgomery
This is a sweet collection of seasonal short stories written by Montgomery for magazines between 1899 and 1910, plus two Christmas chapters from the Anne books: Anne's gift of the dress with puffed sleeves during her first Christmas at Green Gables, and Katharine Brooke's eventful stay at Green Gables from Anne of Windy Poplars. They are not "great art," just gentle, happy little stories about ordinary people overcoming obstacles and celebrating a merry Christmas (or New Year's, as in several stories) even if in just the simplest manner. Several stories are about families reuniting accidentally after years of feuding; others are about wealthy protagonists deciding to help less fortunate neighbors. In one tale an old-fashioned aunt deplored by her niece provides a merry Christmas when the unexpected happens, in another a group of wealthy children bored by Christmas instead do something nice for a struggling family, in a third travelers stopping by a farmhouse inadvertently provide a happy holiday.

Best read with a cup of hot tea or cocoa, with a pet snuggling on your lap whilst listening to Christmas music. (Afghans and fireplaces also work. 😊 )