I enjoyed being a guest for a couple of days at a house with a Burmese mountain dog, a big friendly hairy creature who sat by my side with her head on my knee, but I had no wish to own her, and she should be grateful for that.
Bernese mountains of Switzerland. Bern is the capital. The dogs are older than the St. Bernard, historically used to pull milk carts and for gentle herding- I’ve had 7. Wonderful family pets. 😊
I have read and taught Thoreau for years, and tried to impress upon my students that, had they met him, they would have enjoyed Henry's company. Reading his work requires more intellectual patience than most high school students can muster. With his best friend Ellery Channing, he played a game called the Beeline Race, wherein each had to run a straightline course the fastest and the least deviating. This caused Thoreau to run through a slough, through some woods, and, because it was in the beeline path, in the front door and out the back door of a cabin, the inhabitants of which were seated at lunch. A rumor of a wild, yeti-like creature in the Concord area arose as a result, which, I'm sure delighted Henry and Ellery.
I'm from Concord and lived there until I went to graduate school at age 22. My three siblings still live there, but my nephew and four nieces can't afford it. We didn't study Thoreau's (or other Concord authors') works in high school - I don't know whether the teachers thought we wouldn't appreciate them or if they just assumed we had already read everything.
One benefit I had was that lots of professors and administrators from Harvard and MIT established a large development in the southern corner of the town in the early 1950s and their children comprised about 20% of my classmates from first grade on. They all were extremely intelligent and competitive (their parents could help them with their schoolwork - mine barely made it through high school and I had no older siblings, so I was on my own), so although I didn't go to an Ivy League or Seven Sisters school like most of them did, I found myself well-prepared for college. I placed out of Freshman English even though I never got above a B in it beyond the 6th grade.
As I suffer the oppressive heat of yet another Deep South summer’s day, the cause of which is laid directly at the feet of my generation, I think of childhood days splashing in cool New England ponds unaware that someday someone might carve only my first name on a stone in a swamp-side graveyard of seditionists.
We (Concord and Lincoln residents) had swimming lessons in Walden Pond in the 1950s and 1960s - $2 per child for four weeks. There were school buses that took us there and we always sang during the rides in both directions. I learned the songs for the branches of the armed services since we were all children of WWII veterans. We also sang patriotic songs and old songs like "You Are My Sunshine".
Walden is an extremely deep spring-fed kettle pond with no inlets or outlets and in late June the water was still quite cold. We also used to go ice skating on it, although it didn't freeze over solidly enough during warmer winters. I don't think had been possible to skate on it for years, thanks to global warming. The Thoreau Lyceum museum (including model cabin) is there now - it used to be near the train station in the center of town. Once when I was in there the woman who ran it asked me if I wanted to see the pressed birds.
Thank you for a lovely evening in Peekskill last Sunday evening. I loved the singing, especially the Hymn of the Grand Army of the Republic. There are still New Yorkers who heard stories of Grandma's great uncle Alois who served under Sheridan. We are proud of our Union and our part in it.
My dear Mr. K -- I assume the dog was a Bernese Mountain Dog, not a Burmese. :-) I am not a dog person (I have aspirations to be a cat person -although, as an older woman, not in the derogatory sense of the term- but my husband dislikes pets in general so...) but Bernese Mountain Dogs are lovely creatures.
The go-to pet that comes to mind for adventure and companionship is always a dog, but I’d recommend a cat. If you haven’t, check out the story of Dean Nicholson of Scotland. He rescued a kitten, Nala, and bikes around the world with her as his companion. He documents their travels on YouTube.
Actually, we did have 2 cats for about 9-10 years. They were "hand-me-downs" from our son & daughter by turns, as each moved into different living arrangements in college & no longer could keep their pets. Husband tolerated them both but once they were gone (old age, medical complications) he asked that we have no more pets. Wanted to be free to travel, etc.
Nala's world sounds excellent; I'll see about getting a copy - our library has it on audio. I have read A cat named Darwin : how a stray cat changed a Man into a human being, by William Jordan. They, too, toured exotic lands.
Hey Carol, you can go to YouTube and type in the search box “Guy Finds A Stray Kitten, Bikes Around the World With Her For Two Years”, it should take you directly to a summery of his story on the Dodo Soulmates channel (they feature companion animal stories).
In addition to our two rescue dogs, my wife and I have two cats, an orange heavyweight tabby named Finnegan and a little gray striped and spotted kitten named Spurr. I sometimes lament how difficult it is to travel due to the cost of their care while we’re gone, but it is what it is and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I will look into A Cat Named Darwin and thank you for the recommendation!
Many of our greatest writers and thinkers have said that that their best ideas have come to them on a long walk. I am neither a great thinker nor writer, but I agree with them. Today I determined to walk a mile, but Jesus said, "whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain," so I upped the ante and decided to go two. It was only uphill half the way.
A long walk is its own reward, beneficial to both body and mind, but the best walks offer additional perks and bonuses. Even on this road where I have lived for nearly thirty-five years, a way I have walked hundreds of times, there is always something of note.
Today, at the top of the hill there was a new, tiny chicken coop blasting red with a vibrant blue roof. In front there was a wee yard fenced with, that's right, chicken wire. A coppery rooster was sunning himself with his three-hen harem.
Rooster crowed at me as I passed. It may have been coincidental, but I think it was directed specifically at me because he cock-a-doodled his dooooo as I went by in both directions. You may say it was still coincidental, but I believe it was because he saw a hot chick strolling down the avenue. Or maybe he just thought he recognized a crazy old bird.
As fellow midwesterners, when my wife and I found ourselves living in Cambridge Mass, we spent many a lovely hour on the walking trails in and around Concord and nearby Lincoln.
Concerning Concord’s Sleepy Hollow Cemetery: If you have a chance try to see it in October. Each year when we were there each grave in the enormous cemetery was marked with a small-ish (5 in) pumpkin.
(We never did find out what this was all about, but it really was quite striking.)
O Henry, my Henry! Perhaps the best in life are only in the secrets known only to those with cold noses that touch a solitary hand hovering over a gravestone. Or, perhaps, a long suffering mate from whose company you may have fled in that quest for solitude from that life of quiet desperation.
I sat down with Thoreau's The Maine Woods and traced his steps, and paddles, with the Maine Atlas and Gazetteer. It was an amazing journey. The lake and river drainage patterns in Maine are amazingly complex and cannot be appreciated until one traces a path through it. I cannot imagine wondering into this place without maps and navigation aids. And of course his descriptions of the wilderness were breathtaking. The Maine Woods is a great book.
"Few minute or not," I'd take the plural of it. Thoreau paints the woods and hills like no other. And it's like an almost free gift unable as we are to walk with him, for a few bucks you've got a friend to light it all whenever. Thanks for the memory.
As someone who grew up near Boston in the 50s and 60s the shadow of Thoreau, Emerson and the Transcendentalists, I love that you made this visit. Despite the area having been built up so quickly in the last 2-3 decades, it is moving to go to these places, and feel the inspiration of nature of the writings of these people. There is a sense of place, yes, but it becomes a universal experience of nature if one chooses to look.
Also, as I assume others will mention, the dog's ancestors come from the Alps in Switzerland: Bernese Mountain dogs who were farm dogs in Alpine pastures in the high mountains. Thus, they do not do well in hot weather. But they are very sweet and friendly dogs!
My first wife was an archaeologist, and my favorite line from the journals comes from a short essay on arrowheads: "No disgusting mummy but a clean stone". I also like the fact that he one started the woods on fire by accident, cooking fish on a campfire.
I lived Thoreau's life for my first 17 years of life, spending all my free time wandering in the woods and fields, observing the creatures and plants. I still love nature, but no longer have the time for rambles that I had in my youth. I'll have to check out his journals, they sound like my cup of tea.
Burnese Mountain dogs are wonderful creatures, true gentle giants - the only sad thing about them is that they only get six to eight years of life....
I enjoyed being a guest for a couple of days at a house with a Burmese mountain dog, a big friendly hairy creature who sat by my side with her head on my knee, but I had no wish to own her, and she should be grateful for that.
That is a Bernese Mountain Dog?
Burmese is a breed of cat.
Thanks for your response.
Bernese mountains of Switzerland. Bern is the capital. The dogs are older than the St. Bernard, historically used to pull milk carts and for gentle herding- I’ve had 7. Wonderful family pets. 😊
I have read and taught Thoreau for years, and tried to impress upon my students that, had they met him, they would have enjoyed Henry's company. Reading his work requires more intellectual patience than most high school students can muster. With his best friend Ellery Channing, he played a game called the Beeline Race, wherein each had to run a straightline course the fastest and the least deviating. This caused Thoreau to run through a slough, through some woods, and, because it was in the beeline path, in the front door and out the back door of a cabin, the inhabitants of which were seated at lunch. A rumor of a wild, yeti-like creature in the Concord area arose as a result, which, I'm sure delighted Henry and Ellery.
I'm from Concord and lived there until I went to graduate school at age 22. My three siblings still live there, but my nephew and four nieces can't afford it. We didn't study Thoreau's (or other Concord authors') works in high school - I don't know whether the teachers thought we wouldn't appreciate them or if they just assumed we had already read everything.
One benefit I had was that lots of professors and administrators from Harvard and MIT established a large development in the southern corner of the town in the early 1950s and their children comprised about 20% of my classmates from first grade on. They all were extremely intelligent and competitive (their parents could help them with their schoolwork - mine barely made it through high school and I had no older siblings, so I was on my own), so although I didn't go to an Ivy League or Seven Sisters school like most of them did, I found myself well-prepared for college. I placed out of Freshman English even though I never got above a B in it beyond the 6th grade.
Oh Henry
Sweet
As I suffer the oppressive heat of yet another Deep South summer’s day, the cause of which is laid directly at the feet of my generation, I think of childhood days splashing in cool New England ponds unaware that someday someone might carve only my first name on a stone in a swamp-side graveyard of seditionists.
There is yet time to return to those cool ponds. But there are seditionists everywhere now, not only in the South.
We (Concord and Lincoln residents) had swimming lessons in Walden Pond in the 1950s and 1960s - $2 per child for four weeks. There were school buses that took us there and we always sang during the rides in both directions. I learned the songs for the branches of the armed services since we were all children of WWII veterans. We also sang patriotic songs and old songs like "You Are My Sunshine".
Walden is an extremely deep spring-fed kettle pond with no inlets or outlets and in late June the water was still quite cold. We also used to go ice skating on it, although it didn't freeze over solidly enough during warmer winters. I don't think had been possible to skate on it for years, thanks to global warming. The Thoreau Lyceum museum (including model cabin) is there now - it used to be near the train station in the center of town. Once when I was in there the woman who ran it asked me if I wanted to see the pressed birds.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walden_Pond
https://www.mass.gov/locations/walden-pond-state-reservation
Thank you for a lovely evening in Peekskill last Sunday evening. I loved the singing, especially the Hymn of the Grand Army of the Republic. There are still New Yorkers who heard stories of Grandma's great uncle Alois who served under Sheridan. We are proud of our Union and our part in it.
My dear Mr. K -- I assume the dog was a Bernese Mountain Dog, not a Burmese. :-) I am not a dog person (I have aspirations to be a cat person -although, as an older woman, not in the derogatory sense of the term- but my husband dislikes pets in general so...) but Bernese Mountain Dogs are lovely creatures.
You're right of course. A Swiss mountain dog, having nothing to do with Burma.
The go-to pet that comes to mind for adventure and companionship is always a dog, but I’d recommend a cat. If you haven’t, check out the story of Dean Nicholson of Scotland. He rescued a kitten, Nala, and bikes around the world with her as his companion. He documents their travels on YouTube.
Actually, we did have 2 cats for about 9-10 years. They were "hand-me-downs" from our son & daughter by turns, as each moved into different living arrangements in college & no longer could keep their pets. Husband tolerated them both but once they were gone (old age, medical complications) he asked that we have no more pets. Wanted to be free to travel, etc.
Nala's world sounds excellent; I'll see about getting a copy - our library has it on audio. I have read A cat named Darwin : how a stray cat changed a Man into a human being, by William Jordan. They, too, toured exotic lands.
Hey Carol, you can go to YouTube and type in the search box “Guy Finds A Stray Kitten, Bikes Around the World With Her For Two Years”, it should take you directly to a summery of his story on the Dodo Soulmates channel (they feature companion animal stories).
In addition to our two rescue dogs, my wife and I have two cats, an orange heavyweight tabby named Finnegan and a little gray striped and spotted kitten named Spurr. I sometimes lament how difficult it is to travel due to the cost of their care while we’re gone, but it is what it is and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I will look into A Cat Named Darwin and thank you for the recommendation!
“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.” Which explains why you keep walking onstage.
My beloved is trying to get me to stand up more often. She is right, of course.
Many of our greatest writers and thinkers have said that that their best ideas have come to them on a long walk. I am neither a great thinker nor writer, but I agree with them. Today I determined to walk a mile, but Jesus said, "whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain," so I upped the ante and decided to go two. It was only uphill half the way.
A long walk is its own reward, beneficial to both body and mind, but the best walks offer additional perks and bonuses. Even on this road where I have lived for nearly thirty-five years, a way I have walked hundreds of times, there is always something of note.
Today, at the top of the hill there was a new, tiny chicken coop blasting red with a vibrant blue roof. In front there was a wee yard fenced with, that's right, chicken wire. A coppery rooster was sunning himself with his three-hen harem.
Rooster crowed at me as I passed. It may have been coincidental, but I think it was directed specifically at me because he cock-a-doodled his dooooo as I went by in both directions. You may say it was still coincidental, but I believe it was because he saw a hot chick strolling down the avenue. Or maybe he just thought he recognized a crazy old bird.
Good morning, Garrison.
As fellow midwesterners, when my wife and I found ourselves living in Cambridge Mass, we spent many a lovely hour on the walking trails in and around Concord and nearby Lincoln.
Concerning Concord’s Sleepy Hollow Cemetery: If you have a chance try to see it in October. Each year when we were there each grave in the enormous cemetery was marked with a small-ish (5 in) pumpkin.
(We never did find out what this was all about, but it really was quite striking.)
A memorial to the Headless Horseman, perhaps?
I believe that's related to the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Tarrytown, NY
Ah ha! For some reason I always thought Washington Irving was from Massachusetts. Thank you for the education!
Also a very interesting old cemetery
I think Thoreau wrote that he'd rather sit on a pumpkin than on a velvet throne.
There are lots of maple trees in Concord, so the fall foliage is beautiful. There used to be many elms, but they were wiped out by Dutch Elm disease.
we live across the street from the cemetery and I wander there daily...
no pumpkins have been placed at the gravesites in October (since 2008 when we moved here), but that does sound like an interesting project ;-)
O Henry, my Henry! Perhaps the best in life are only in the secrets known only to those with cold noses that touch a solitary hand hovering over a gravestone. Or, perhaps, a long suffering mate from whose company you may have fled in that quest for solitude from that life of quiet desperation.
I sat down with Thoreau's The Maine Woods and traced his steps, and paddles, with the Maine Atlas and Gazetteer. It was an amazing journey. The lake and river drainage patterns in Maine are amazingly complex and cannot be appreciated until one traces a path through it. I cannot imagine wondering into this place without maps and navigation aids. And of course his descriptions of the wilderness were breathtaking. The Maine Woods is a great book.
"Few minute or not," I'd take the plural of it. Thoreau paints the woods and hills like no other. And it's like an almost free gift unable as we are to walk with him, for a few bucks you've got a friend to light it all whenever. Thanks for the memory.
As someone who grew up near Boston in the 50s and 60s the shadow of Thoreau, Emerson and the Transcendentalists, I love that you made this visit. Despite the area having been built up so quickly in the last 2-3 decades, it is moving to go to these places, and feel the inspiration of nature of the writings of these people. There is a sense of place, yes, but it becomes a universal experience of nature if one chooses to look.
Also, as I assume others will mention, the dog's ancestors come from the Alps in Switzerland: Bernese Mountain dogs who were farm dogs in Alpine pastures in the high mountains. Thus, they do not do well in hot weather. But they are very sweet and friendly dogs!
My first wife was an archaeologist, and my favorite line from the journals comes from a short essay on arrowheads: "No disgusting mummy but a clean stone". I also like the fact that he one started the woods on fire by accident, cooking fish on a campfire.
I lived Thoreau's life for my first 17 years of life, spending all my free time wandering in the woods and fields, observing the creatures and plants. I still love nature, but no longer have the time for rambles that I had in my youth. I'll have to check out his journals, they sound like my cup of tea.
Burnese Mountain dogs are wonderful creatures, true gentle giants - the only sad thing about them is that they only get six to eight years of life....
“Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life so. Aim above morality. Be not simply good, be good for something.”
Easy words to write. Harder words to live by. But valuable nonetheless.
Simply beautiful!