Fall is here

The leaves have finally started to change color in earnest.  I had to smile ruefully when I spotted a "leaf peeper" bus a week or so ago.  They definitely picked the wrong week.  The weather over the last month has been a study in contrasts.  Cool with heavy rain, but then the sun comes out and the temperature rises quite high (up to the 80s sometimes).  Incy-wincy spider weather in fact.  Today we experienced the lowest temperature for a while (43) while back on 9/25 the high was 88.  In the photo (above) of the Greenough pond, you can see the mist rising from the water as the day began to warm up. And if you look very carefully, you may see a Great Blue Heron perched on top of a wood-duck nestbox (the left and further one of the two).

I'm so glad they got those miners out in Chile (actually they're still working on it)!  69 days, 690 metres underground!  Amazing.

The day I began this blog, a week or so ago, I noticed the phoebes were back.  I'm not sure where they'd been the previous couple of months: perhaps I just hadn't noticed them.  In any event, they'll be fattening up for the migration South.  I noticed something particular about their endearing habit of wagging their tail.  It seems to coincide always with a rotation of the head.  In this light it appears to be a reflex reaction.  More research is going to be required, as Sibley has nothing to say on the physiology or motives of the behavior.

Meanwhile, the tomatoes have stopped ripening.  Guess it's going to be fried green tomatoes for us!  Why is it that however smart we think we are, we always have to make mistakes before we can learn.  In this case, I neglected the tomato plants and, after pinching off the suckers early, I've not continued that through the summer.  Result: lots of branches, lots of (green) tomatoes.  Not much fruit available for good eating for about four weeks or so now.

Hands up those of us who are bothered, nay infuriated, by the modern trend of bringing smelly food into confined spaces such as trains, planes, bridge clubs, offices, theatres, etc.  It's part of the general reversion to selfishness that is all too prevalent among the younger set, rant, rant...  I heard a story from my mother the other day that made me realize why we have to suffer this now.  It's because of "fast food" outlets.  Back in the day when you had to go on a long journey and might not have food available (or it might be too expensive), you took sandwiches.  By definition, sandwiches are cold.  Yes, I know the American food industry has revised the meaning of the term to include hamburgers and the like, but in the original form, named after the Earl of Sandwich, it was cold meat positioned between two slices of bread.  This is what legions of commuters have taken to work for maybe a hundred years.

Anyway, my mother's story made me suddenly realize that it's the temperature of the food that is the essential issue.  As we know, the speed of chemical reactions increases with temperature according to the Arrhenius equation and I'm sure that this same equation relates to the energy levels (and velocity) of the molecules which cause food aromas (note the use of the word aroma: the Italians very sensibly have two words for smell, one for good: aroma, one for bad: odore).  But note also that soon after it's introduced, an aroma can become an odor.  Life is cool so as long as people bring cold food into confined spaces, or if we are all eating the same thing at the same time (as on a plane, at least in days gone by when they served food on planes) or, to some extent, in a restaurant where even if we aren't eating the same thing, at least we're eating or about to eat.  These are acceptable situations.

But when we are not eating (maybe we are actually hungry) and someone else brings hot food near us, then it's very anti-social. My pet peeve is microwave popcorn.  Ycch!   End of rant.

We went with Miranda and one of Kim's friends to see David Sedaris on tour in Worcester.  We had a great dinner beforehand but left our getaway a little late and arrived at the theater exactly at show time.  It took me 20 minutes to park and join my fellows inside.  He was funny. But not quite as funny as I was expecting. He didn't read for very long.  I thought he was about to take a break when he said "Thanks for coming."  Apparently he now lives near my old stomping ground in West Sussex (UK).  Although I do enjoy his stories, his earthy/bathroom style can be a little embarrassing to sensitive souls and there's no doubt that it is not the kind of humor appreciated by either my mother or my mother-in-law.  Let them be warned: the following may not be suitable reading - now would be a very good time to quit.

I suspect he may have been reading Chaucer lately, in particular the Summoner's tale in which the summoner pokes fun at the Friar.  A Friar dies and ends up in hell whereupon the devil claims to have "in his arse" no fewer than twenty thousand friars that apparently can come and go at will.  In Sedaris' new story, the Friar is a Great Horned Owl, the Devil is a Hippopotamus at the zoo (Sedaris uses the term rectum) and the friars are leeches. Now, is that plagiarism according to the modern obsession?  Or it just one writer showing his respect for another?

My new mission

The view shown here is the view from my new office.  Well, almost.  My office actually looks through another office to this view.  But it's very fine and is going to be especially lovely once the leaves turn (see photo below which is from the other side of the reservoir looking back this way, taken 10 years ago). This is the Cambridge Reservoir in Waltham which was created in 1910 by damming Hobbs' Brook.  I work in a beautiful office park with plenty of parking, some of it covered and generally a great place to work.  The only snag is that there is literally only one road into the complex in which, as a complete guess, 20,000 to 50,000 people work.  There have been road works on the highway interchange and access road for at least two years.  There are huge traffic jams in the mornings.  Fortunately, there is another way out (but not in).

In any case, I'm already having a lot of fun and there is a huge amount of important work to be done.  What a marvelous opportunity to do something that will improve people's lives!  I'd love to talk more about what I'm working on beyond "health care", but I really can't in such a public forum.

There's one other minor snag at the office which is that next-door-neighbors' phone conversations can be loud.  I combat this distraction with music from my iPod or iPhone (and headphones).  One of the pieces I've been listening to lately can justly claim to be one of the greatest of bassoon pieces of all: Il Trittico Botticelliano by Ottorino Respighi.  I just missed playing it with SPM 21 years ago.  Maybe we could do it again.  It also happens to be a brilliant composition, even by the standards of the exceptionally gifted (but typically under-appreciated) Respighi.  Incidentally, one of my lifetime ambitions (a bucket-list item perhaps) is to publish a book (most likely electronic) which talks about all the wonderful bassoon music that people so easily miss.

Meanwhile, I managed to pass the ACBL (bridge) director's exam so I am now a qualified director.  Of course I no longer have any time to direct games, but it could be done in theory!  I'm already suffering a little from bridge withdrawal (but only a little).

I have another blog in draft mode which I'm planning on getting ready soon, but I thought I'd better at least send something out or you would all give up on me.

Two early fall hikes

Concord River looking South

Concord River looking North

Last weekend, we took advantage of the very dry summer to walk the "dry season" river trail from the Greenough Land here in Carlisle along the Concord River as far as the National Wildlife Refuge (which doesn't allow dogs).  As expected it was incredibly easy and very satisfying.  The river along this stretch is completely unspoiled.  Apart from probably a more substantial bridge on the Nashua Road, the vista no doubt looks today much as it did when Henry David Thoreau and his brother John navigated it in 1839 as described in his A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers.  I now have that book as an "ebook" on my iPhone and am planning on finding out what Thoreau was thinking as they paddled from one Concord to another.

From Mt. Pisgah looking East

From Mt. Pisgah looking towards the reservoir

Yesterday we drove to Southwestern New Hampshire for a more substantial hike: to one of our favorite places – Pisgah State Park.  See previous blogs Darwin and Newts and  Basking in an Indian Summer.  We hiked from the Reservoir Road access point to the top of Mt. Pisgah.  Well, almost to the top.  I didn't have my GPS loaded with topo maps and there were a lot of trees and not fantastically good visibility.  We actually missed the summit by about 1000' horizontally and 60' vertically.  Oops!  We did have a lovely view (see left and below) from where we were sitting eating our lunch though, just East of what we thought was the summit.  We could see Mt. Monadnock quite clearly (although in the photograph, it is obscured by a branch of a nearby tree, on the extreme left).  
The wonderful thing about this view is that, except for a couple of distant antennas and, I suppose, the reservoir (see photo on right), there is nothing in the entire view that is man-made.

Normally when we hike in this park we are entirely alone, apart from our dogs that is.  But on this particular day, there was a cross-country race through the park.  The distances were significant (23k and 45k) but most of the runners seemed to be at least 40 and many were 50+ I'd say.

If you'd like to see our actual track and more detail, go to Early Fall Hike to Mt. Pisgah.

Pixie, wait!

OK, but do try to keep up.

Pixie likes to hike at the head of the column, going forward like a scout.  Sometimes she wanders off on her own and can't be found.  This happened yesterday and delayed us for about half an hour while we blew the whistle and called "Pixie....".  Fortunately, we got her back, though through no effort of hers.  Here she is on the Concord River walk.  In the first picture (left) she hears "Pixie, wait".  In the second, she turns to wait for us to catch up.  Most of the time she's well-behaved like that.  Hopefully, she just needs a bit more training.

Drug testing and the chain of custody

Warning: this blog alludes to a certain bodily function.  Sensitive readers should skip it.

I had a new experience today.  I thought I'd share my thoughts with you.  I dare say that David Sedaris (whom we shall be seeing live in a month or so) could make this experience incredibly humorous – meanwhile, I'll simply try to keep your interest to the end.

I reported to the testing facility in Lowell this morning for the drug test required by my about-to-be new employer, just a couple of blocks along Route 38 from I-495.  After waiting less than five minutes, I identified myself with my driver's license, and was asked to empty my pockets into a lock box (it was never locked as far as I can tell).  The lab technician then handed me a sample container, pointed to the line that I was required to fill to and shown the bathroom.   "I have to turn the water off while you're in there, so you won't be able to wash your hands," she said.  "Oh, and don't flush or we'll have to start all over again."  That sounded ominous.  I knew there was no way I would be able to produce two samples.

In I went, blessing the accident of nature that gave me a Y chromosome and prepared to perform my duty.  Do other people find this as tricky as I do?  I don't usually have any problems but somehow when you're required to produce a certain amount into a container, the brain goes into a kind of mini-rebellion.  It's similar to the experience we men sometimes suffer when flow is just about to begin and another guy comes and stands at the next urinal.  The entire waterworks can so easily be shut off at that instant.  "Let your mind go blank," I told myself.  It did the trick.

So, I went out and handed her the container and she flipped a switch and said "OK, you can go back in, wash your hands and flush."  But not in that order, I thought to myself.  She didn't go in for an inspection, so if I had put something in the loo, she wouldn't have known anything about it.  But what kind of thing might I drop in?  If I'd smuggled in a phial of pure stuff, wouldn't I just put it back in my pocket on the way out?  She never actually checked my pockets before or after.

I closed the bathroom door when I went back in (I'm not sure why) and I cleaned up.  I went back out and she started on the paperwork.  A sample container which certainly looked like mine (it was filled to the exact same level) was sitting on the counter.  I signed to the effect that she was now sealing it up in my presence (the "chain of custody"), took my copy and bade her adieu.  It was all over remarkably quickly.

But can I be sure that the container that is now about to be processed in my name is really mine?  Could she have substituted another while I was washing my hands and flushing?  I'm not sure just what incentive she might have to make the substitution but, still, it does seem to be a weak point in the process.  I suppose they think that I'm more likely to want to do the old switcheroo than the lab technician.

Meanwhile, they're also doing a "background check".  Who knows what might turn up there!  So, I decided to pay for my own background check.  I'm sure that my employer's agent will be much more thorough but still I was curious to see what information about yours truly can be bought for a mere $35.  Perhaps I should hire Kim's cousin Julia to do a more thorough preemptive check.  I did discover some interesting stuff.  Did you know for instance, that I had lived in Pasadena, CA?  Neither did I.  But somebody who until recently had the same name as me did live there and it shows up in my record.
I'm not on any FBI (or equivalent) lists.  But there are a couple of bankruptcies associated with my first and last name.  Fortunately, the middle part of the name is different and they're in states that I've never lived in.  I do hope that whoever evaluates the check on behalf of my new employer isn't going to be fazed by any of this.

So, when you see in this blog that I am actually starting my job, you will know that I have passed these two tests.  I'm looking forward to it very much!

Summer is drawing to a close

Still, we're having day after day of beautiful weather.  But the evenings and, especially, the mornings have a definite chill these last few days.

We're proposing to do the "river trail" tomorrow which is impassable at all times except when the ground is very very dry.  Like now.

We had a preview of what it will be like this morning when we joined the Search for Gracie in the woods of North Billerica.  Gracie is a Sheltie (Shetland Sheepdog) who's been missing since May when she was chased out of her own yard by a coyote.  Her "mom" has worked incredibly hard to try to find her and to begin with there were many sightings (although one wonders how reliable some of these were).  But nobody has seen her now for about a month.  Today, ten of us met at the McDonalds in North Billerica to comb through the woods on the East side of the Concord River between the Boston Road bridge and the River St. bridge.  See below for our track.  We covered about 2 miles in as many hours.  We weren't in a hurry: we were looking for possible dens and/or paw prints.  We didn't see anything and neither did any of our fellow searchers.  But it was certainly an interesting way to spend a morning!  We are very sad for Gracie and her family -- we just wish that they could get her back.



View Search for Gracie in a larger map

Meanwhile, football season is upon us!  The Patriots will host the Cincinnati Bengals tomorrow, one of last season's surprise contenders.  Tom Brady has a new contract worth $18 million annually.  You'd think that with all that money he'd be able to buy himself a really fancy car.  But no.  Some charity he works with bought him a really fancy car so he doesn't need to.  This all came out earlier this week when he was involved in a crash in Boston (not his fault).

And, today being the anniversary of 9/11, we've been threatened all week with a completely outrageous act of racial intolerance down in Florida.  Let's hope that cool heads prevail.

Separating the sheep from the goats

Earlier this week, I went to the last of the summer sings of the Paul Madore Chorale at the Old Town Hall in Salem, MA.  It was another sultry, not to say stifling, evening.  The program this time was the Verdi Requiem, one of the truly great pieces of music.  There was an accompanist, a small, volunteer orchestra, a somewhat under-staffed chorus and four absolutely fantastic soloists.  To say that running the whole piece without rehearsal and with such a motley crew (no oboes, or double basses and the entire brass section consisting of one paltry trumpet) was ambitious would be a serious understatement.  But because the soloists can pretty much carry the entire piece on their backs, it actually turned out to be a magnificent musical experience.

Surprisingly, there were three of us bassoons (only one part missing, therefore).  I was lucky to get to play the first part, and therefore to enjoy all the wonderful solo passages, particularly in the Quid sum miser and Ingemisco sections of the Sequentia (Dies Irae).  Verdi really created a wonderful score for the bassoon section.  I was reminded of the first time I played the piece (as 4th bassoon) in Peterborough Cathedral (UK) in 1973 (or 74).  Now, that was a fantastic experience: the off-stage trumpets echoing around the nooks and crannies of the magnificent edifice during the Tuba mirum section.  Truly unforgettable.

So, I was curious to take a closer look at the words of the requiem mass.  I've always been surprised at just how different the words can be in the different settings (and how they are frequently grouped together).  I looked up the Missale Romanum on the web and it certainly is confusing.  This is a good source of the text.

I hadn't really noticed before how the Sequentia is divided into 19 stanzas of rhyming triplets. To me there is something quite magical about these words, and I'm not even Catholic.  For example:

Tuba mirum spargens sonum Per sepulcra regionum, Coget omnes ante thronum.
Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth, Through earth's sepulchres it ringeth, All before the throne it bringeth.

One of my favorite triplets is:

Inter oves locum praesta, Et ab haedis me sequestra, Statuens in parte dextra.
With Thy favored sheep, oh, place me; Nor among the goats abase me, But to Thy right hand upraise me.

But, I wonder, what is it about sheep that is so wonderful? And what's wrong with goats? Haedis (sometimes spelled hoedis), by the way is perhaps better translated as kids. Perhaps there's an element of age discrimination, too.  I will develop that theme in my latest Letter from Europa.