Archive - Staff Blog
July 20th, 2015
Celebrating 100 Years of Middlebury Language Schools
Can I say a word I haven’t said before,
speak in a field’s blossoming tongue?
Pledge to keep my pledge, speak
only in the school I’m in? To learn one
phrase more, to sound as if I was born there
and not here among (oh, I’m saying it)
the world of Vermont’s girosoles.
“I am so bored. I’m bored to death!” moans my 7-year-old daughter.
It can be humbling to write a bi-weekly newspaper column: Few things more effectively highlight one’s capacity for change – or inconsistency, denial, and flip-flopping. I’m not convinced that this is a bad thing; isn’t the point of individual human existence to grow and change? Isn’t it natural that the ideas expressed in a column should evolve along with the human writing that column?
This column will be published immediately following the last day of Addison County’s 2014-15 school year.
The older I get, the more I love gardening.
I have commented previously in this column about my ambivalence towards gardening -- the result of a childhood spent watching my parents slave away each weekend in their garden -- and the unfavorable gardening conditions in my own rock-infested, tree-shaded yard. One could quite rightly characterize my current relationship with my garden as "rocky."
Grandparents get to do whatever they want -- that's my philosophy.
We are starting to move outward now. The turning point came a few days before Easter, when I looked outside one morning and saw that there was more bare ground than snow visible through the window.
More stories published this issue