“Until nostalgia has smothered my fury.”

The 2016/17 season of Project FeederWatch opened Saturday. Monday and Tuesday are my usual count days, and one of this weekend’s to-do items was to build a better checklist, one that mirrors my typical sightings but leaves room for infrequent backyard visitors (like the Eastern Wild Turkey or the Hermit Thrush). Once I was satisfied with the new design, I pulled out my clipboard, to which last season’s checklists were still attached. In the margin of one was scrawled, “Until nostalgia has smothered my fury.”

I could not recall the origin of this wonderfully apt quote, but a quick search led to a declaration by Maggie Smith’s character in Downton Abbey. You know, I was all in for the first two seasons of DA, but by the third, I had grown a bit bored. I did catch much of the final season, though, even if with only one eye and mostly for the moments Smith was onscreen. If this checklist marginalia was my takeaway, then it was certainly time well spent, as I can think of at least two inquiries to which this is the perfect response.

Ahem.

In addition to the nearly seventy hours I served as an election judge during early voting, I put in 15.5 hours on Election Day. The remainder of last week was devoted to focused music practice, phone time with my daughters, paperwork, and reading. By Friday morning, I was back to my daily walk, and over the weekend, we finished winterizing the forever home between walks, talks, and errands. Can the month be half-over already? We will soon enjoy a nine-day autumn break, then, during which we will see Electra at the Court, visit a museum (or two), spend a day at the zoo (maybe), hike in the woods, and play a number of games (including the expansion pack for Exploding Kittens).

Before the break, though, I will move on from Haydn’s “Serenade” and accept my next solo piece, and I will finish reading Life Reimagined (Barbara Bradley Haggerty), I Hunt Killers (Barry Lyga), The Couple Next Door (Shari Lapena), and Plutona (Jeff Lemire). Cara Hoffman’s Running, an ARC, is being nibbled until those four are done.

Where have I been? Where am I going?

img_8474Early voting, and, oh, have I ever learned a lot as an election judge — about myself, my town, and, yes, even the world. The stories I could tell, too! But that seems indiscreet, so I will confine myself to a confession: I have not made a bit of progress on my ornithology studies since the post in which I asserted that I would bring the book to my assignment. On the morning of my first day as an election judge, I rightly guessed that I would not have much time for reading, so I left the tome at home. As it turned out, I did not move from my ePollBook until 2:15 p.m. that first day, and the subsequent days allowed no time for attentive study or deep reading. During the storms last week, though, I was able to read the newspapers, and on other days, I caught up on some of my magazine subscriptions and finished the last few pages of a graphic work. That’s all right. Once the election is decided, I can (re)turn my attention to the birds – both Project FeederWatch, which begins November 12, and the course.

On my free days these last couple of weeks, I’ve been practicing my music, winterizing the forever home, lavishing attention on the cats (who are not accustomed to spending eight- and ten-hour days without a human lap; thank goodness my husband is working from home this week!), and slurping down fast-paced thrillers like Dark Matter (Blake Crouch) and The Strain (Guillermo de Torro and Chuck Hogan). The first novel might appeal to fans of The Martian, although Matter is light on the science and problem-solving that make Martian a brainier book. As for the second novel, twenty minutes of a television series reminded me that I already owned the book, the first in a trilogy. Over the weekend, curled under a blanket in my capacious-bottomed Adirondack chair in the backyard, I enjoyed the butter-yellow light, the decidedly not-November weather, and the somewhat predictable vampire tale. I’m undecided about finishing the trilogy.

At this writing, then, I’ve completed 109 books, which is five above my goal in a year of reading slowly. Twenty-six of those are graphic works; sixteen are non-fiction. If those numbers were flip-flopped, I would have met one of my objectives: to read more non-fiction. Seven or so weeks remain in the year, and I am knee-deep in the delightfully informative Life Reimagined (Barbara Bradley Hagerty), so there is still (some) hope of meeting that objective. Similarly, inspired by my work in the six-week MOOC “Literature and Mental Health: Reading for Wellbeing,” I am hopeful about meeting another of my objectives: to read more poetry.

Speaking of bibliotherapy, in a neat bit of serendipity / synthesis / synchronicity, I ran across the subject last week while catching up on my magazine subscriptions. From “Read a Novel: It’s Just What the Doctor Ordered” (Time, October 27):

Even the greatest novel cannot, by itself, cure clinical depression, erase posttraumatic stress or turn an egomaniac into a self-denying saint. But it might ease a midlife crisis or provide comfort in a time of grief.

The MOOC I completed – led by Jonathan Bate and Paula Byrne and featuring excellent interviews and discussions with Stephen Fry, Ben Okri, Ian McKellen, and Mark Haddon, among others – focused on the way that literature, particularly poetry, can illuminate certain aspects of the human condition and proffer insight or succor during times of emotional upheaval. More, quite apart from the subject, the cadence or form of a poem might also speak to the reader, serving as an incantatory emotional salve. To me, the MOOC provided a responsible and fascinating way to apply reading. The Novel Cure, on the other hand, a book in my TBR and one featured in the Time article above, seems like embarrassingly oversimplified application of the ideas – as in, Feeling blue? Read this. As Bate and Burns and the doctors, writers, professors, actors, etc. they featured pointed out, though, it simply doesn’t work that way. Literature may prove powerfully effective for some people experiencing emotional distress, but the works cannot be prescribed.

Other reading notes… After a long hiatus, I accepted three ARCs: The Lion in the Living Room: How House Cats Tamed Us and Took Over the World (Abigail Tucker) was released last month; Running (Cara Hoffman) will be released in February; and The Jersey Brothers: A Missing Naval Officer in the Pacific and His Family’s Quest to Bring Him Home (Sally Mott Freeman) is due out in May. Already familiar with Hoffman’s novel Be Safe I Love You, I was engaged by the opening pages of Running, so it has secured a place in my knapsack this week along with the last two weeks’ worth of comics. (Darn this brief stint of working! It’s wreaking havoc on my reading life.)

Speaking of comics, I finally succumbed: I created a pull list at Comixology and linked it to the shop partway between home and my husband’s work. The owner not only most reliably carries copies of the titles I read, he recommended titles based on my buying patterns, including one I took – Eden’s Fall. (I know some of you think I should just get the issues electronically, but I am still hopelessly in love with hard copies.)

More when this election is (finally!) behind us. In the meantime, what are you reading?

Falling back

img_5459Plan accordingly: We “gain” an hour this weekend. From “The Case for and Against Daylight Saving Time” (National Geographic):

Scientists have examined DST’s impacts on human health, and the conclusions have been mixed.

The article continues:

Two studies, conducted in the United States and Sweden, found that heart attack risk increased by up to 25 percent on the Monday after we move the clocks ahead. The same researchers found that the risk dropped by 21 percent when the clocks fall back.

Till Roenneberg, a chronobiologist at Ludwig-Maximilians University in Munich, argues that our bodies’ circadian clocks never entirely adjust to the shift in daylight hours. So while more morning light helps jump-start our bodies, the extra evening light leads to a lag.

“The consequence of that is that the majority of the population has drastically decreased productivity, decreased quality of life, increasing susceptibility to illness, and is just plain tired,” Roenneberg previously told National Geographic.

Project FeederWatch

jaysThe 2016-2017 season of Project FeederWatch begins November 12, so there is still time to register for this wonderful program.

From the Project FeederWatch website:

Project FeederWatch is a winter-long survey of birds that visit feeders at backyards, nature centers, community areas, and other locales in North America. FeederWatchers periodically count the birds they see at their feeders from November through early April and send their counts to Project FeederWatch. FeederWatch data help scientists track broadscale movements of winter bird populations and long-term trends in bird distribution and abundance.

Anyone interested in birds can participate. FeederWatch is conducted by people of all skill levels and backgrounds, including children, families, individuals, classrooms, retired persons, youth groups, nature centers, and bird clubs. You can count birds as often as every week, or as infrequently as you like: the schedule is completely flexible. All you need is a bird feeder, bird bath, or plantings that attract birds.

If you plan to participate, set up your feeders now and commit to keeping them filled throughout the season. Use a variety of feeders and seed to attract a greater variety of visitors. For more information, check out this site.

Nine years ago

ornithology-abashedMore than nine years ago, on May 1, 2007, I posted the image above to my old site. Since then, I’ve started and stopped my work on the Home Study Course in Bird Biology at least a dozen times. For nearly a decade, something more pressing regularly presented itself, and I took comfort in the website note that while some folks finish the course rapidly, there is no completion deadline; in fact, one student took ten years to finish! (I should be so lucky.)

Even so, at the eight-year mark, last summer, I called the Cornell Lab to ensure that my course materials were still valid and was patched through to Kevin McGowan. (Insert my daughters and I mime-squealing with nerdish delight at my encounter with a birding world rock star.) He kindly assured me that my text and test materials were fine, although the new edition would be out in 2016. His warm encouragement nearly jumpstarted my efforts, but other cares, concerns, and pursuits soon supplanted my studies, and the Handbook was reshelved. Again.

And here we are, about seven months from the ten-year mark. The new Handbook has been released, and mine still looks brand new. Well, color me recommitted. I have been assigned approximately sixty-four hours during early voting, and I have vowed that the Home Study Course in Bird Biology will be my sole companion (apart from my fellow election judge, of course).

Maybe this time, eh?

In which ten days pass

img_8091■ In anticipation of Banned Books Week (September 26 through October 1), I reread Slaughterhouse-Five earlier this month. I must have known I was entering a reading slump, during which I touch books; I think about books; heck, I even acquire books. But read them? Meh. Not so much. My mind has been restless, and regaining the required focus has felt a bit like bathing two cats at the same time — messy and misguided. I am glad I reacquainted myself with Vonnegut’s charms, though, because he reminded me that, slump or not, I am a reader.

■ I am also something of a watcher, and I’ve not had any difficulty focusing on that pursuit. Heh, heh, heh. After catching up on the sensational Mr. Robot, I chose The Americans as my next small-screen obsession. Terrific stuff.

■ Speaking of watching… Despite a strong cast and some stagecraft wizardry, the performance of Julius Caesar we saw at the Writers Theatre this week was missing… something. I’d have put it down to simply being an off day, but the Trib sensed a lack, too.

Our next theater adventure is part two of the Chicago Shakespeare Theater’s bard binge, Tug of War. (Reviews here and here.)

“Science fiction was a big help.”

imageHas is it really been two weeks since my last post?

■ Only a few pages in the Rubank Intermediate book remain, so I was advised to bring Advanced, Vol. 1 to my October lessons. I’ve been assigned Haydn’s “Serenade” as my new solo piece, and one of my instructor’s colleagues has suggested that two of his students and I form a trio jointly supervised by the two instructors. A year ago, this idea would have made me shudder. Now? I am excited to begin!

■ In forty-eight days, I will be an election judge at a nearby precinct. Earlier this month, on a whim, I looked over our county’s website, made a call, emailed an application, and registered for training. What a lot to remember! Fortunately, the training included several hands-on exercises, and if I am chosen to work early voting, I will gain experience prior to the big day.

■ This is Week 3 of the University of Warwick’s rerun of “Literature and Mental Health,” and it has been every bit as compelling as I had hoped.

■ Like any over-fifty, my husband and I make a number of annual health appointments, and this year, we decided to schedule all of these in September and October. Waiting rooms have this to recommend them: They give one time to finish a couple of books.

From Slaughterhouse-Five:
p. 4

And even if wars didn’t keep coming like glaciers, there would still be plain old death.

p. 101

So they were trying to re-invent themselves and their universe. Science fiction was a big help.

From The Code of the Woosters:
p. 221

“You can’t be a successful Dictator and design women’s under-clothing.”
“No, sir.”
“One or the other. Not both.”
“Precisely, sir.”

Because I only include cover-to-covers, ninety-three titles appear on my list to date. In these years of reading slowly, my goal is usually a minimum of two books per week, and I am positioned to exceed that next month.

What am I reading today? A Fair Maiden (Joyce Carol Oates) and the poetry volume, Stressed, Unstressed. My husband and I will see Julius Caesar at the Writers Theatre later this month — our first just-us theater adventure in thirty years — so I am also rereading that, one of my favorite works of Shakespeare. (“Would he were fatter!”) And I am savoring Kij Johnson’s The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe, which features an over-fifty woman with a “never-absent pain in her back.” I think I may love the fictional Vellitt Boe as much as love the non-fictional and now ninety-eight-year-old Diana Athill, whose latest memoir is winging its way toward the forever home.

■ Speaking of the forever home, how much I love it! Although my daughters regularly contributed to its care, over the last two years, they had increasingly less time for all of the tasks that ensure a property doesn’t succumb to “kipple,” so I often worked solo, on the yards, for example. And now that they are at university, it is generally me alone performing the daily, weekly, monthly, seasonal, and annual home rituals. When he can, my husband helps, of course, as when he made the end-of-season inspection of the crawlspace. And we have services for some tasks — for example, soil aeration; tree care; furnace, air-conditioning, and appliance maintenance; and critter control. But often, it is just the cats and I, which means that the rituals take a bit more time and that I must perform more of them (including pet care, which was once the exclusive domain of my older daughter). What I had thought might prove annoying, though, has mostly represented only a slight tempo change in my life’s regular rhythms. In fact, I find that being needed in these new ways is oddly comforting, as if the forever home is enveloping me while I continue to adjust to my latest “new normal.”