A sunstruck afternoon in February — I opened the windows and aired out the house. The kids jumped off the back deck, ate potato chips, planned building projects we needed to start right away.

A trustee signed off on an email to me, Happy sap run. These are the intimations of sugaring season, the beginning of the thaw and freeze, thaw and freeze. When we first began sugaring, twenty years ago, I believe the thaw would come in a rush and stay. Not so. Thaw and more thaw, studded with bursts of hard cold, slowly melts the frost down deep.

(I had) a revelation the first time I ever flew in an airplane as a kid: when you break through the cloud cover you realize that above the passing squalls and doldrums there is a realm of eternal sunlight, so keen and brilliant you have to squint against it, a vision to hold on to when you descend once again beneath the clouds, under the oppressive, petty jurisdiction of the local weather.

— Tim Kreider, We Learn Nothing: Essays


Good News for Friday?

After a hellacious week involving, among other things, painful injury, dire disease, divorce, despair, and unforeseen car repairs, I find myself reading my horoscope in the local paper, looking for good news.

There are potentially important messages you’re not registering and catalytic influences you can’t detect…. Now here’s the good news: You are primed to expand your listening field. You have an enhanced ability to open certain doors of perception that have been closed. If you capitalize on this opportunity, silence will give way to revelation.

That advice is some of the best I’ve received in quite a while. Children, quiet, please; I’m listening for revelation. While I’m doing that, please go pick up your socks or something.


Greensboro, Vermont