Up on Hawthorn Hill: Early Winter Musings By Richard DeRosa A light coating of snow now blankets our hillside, snow shovels at the ready. The new snow blower waits quietly for its first call to duty. Life is now lived more inwardly, more reflectively. Books having piled up for some months now await their turn in line. Thoughts that have incubated for some time seem riper for reflection, perhaps a temporary resolution of what have been conflicting possibilities. Few would…
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Up on Hawthorn Hill by Richard DeRosa Life Trails A good friend gave me a book several days ago, convinced that I too would enjoy it: On Trails: An Exploration by Robert Moor. It is wonderful when several pages into a new book one feels right at home and looks forward to the journey. This book is about the journeys that constitute each of our lives. Our lives can be tracked, just as an experienced hunter can track a deer.…
Up on Hawthorn Hill by Richard deRosa Apple picking provides outlet for discussion, reflection This year’s apple harvest on the hill was one of the best, despite several trees having taken a year off. In past years we have dried, canned, frozen and made delicious varieties of apple breads, muffins, etc. Actually, my contribution is working the apple peeler and doing a fair amount of the drying. Sandy is the master baker, freezer, and canner. This year we picked together.…
Up on Hawthorn Hill by Richard deRosa Finding a retreat from totalitarianism We are beginning the process of bedding down most of our gardens for the winter. I am reminded of what Robert Frost so sagely stated in his poem “After Apple-Picking,” that there comes a time when the harvest we so looked forward to has run its course and a new desire has arisen: to step aside, rest up a bit, and move on to other tasks — or…
Up On Hawthorn Hill Walking unveils a world of hidden wonders Two days ago, after visiting a friend in the village, I walked home, a jaunt of about five miles. I am a walker by nature, but it has been a while since I have taken a walk of any substantial length. Most of our walks around here are two to three miles. That, coupled with working in the gardens and doing chores up here on the hill, usually serves…
Up On Hawthorn Hill Looking at language changes with displeasure Despite knowing all too well that language is always evolving, there are some aspects of its constant evolution that stick in my craw. My wife is the unfortunate recipient of my constant grousing about things I hear people say on the radio every morning. If I were to compile a list it would be long and, well, possibly annoying to some (especially the guilty!) and characterized as pretty nitpicky. So…
Up on Hawthorn Hill Garlic harvest is one of my favorite routines William Cobbett published his classic on gardening, “The English Gardener,” in 1829. I turn to it often not so much for its gardening advice, but for Cobbett’s often curmudgeonly, sometimes philosophical, comments about certain plants and how to go about dealing with them. Interestingly, his section on what he describes as “garlick,” is short and to the point; plant it, dig it up when ready and hang it…
Up on Hawthorn Hill Wondering where have all the bluebirds gone Ever since we moved into our house on the hill, there have been recurring natural patterns that have enriched our lives. One of those is the annual return of at least one pair of bluebirds. Some summers we have been lucky enough to share the place with two nesting pairs. If my notes are accurate (trusting notes more than memory these days!) normal bluebird behavior is to hang out…
