this october morning

this october morning

single-leaf-autumn-wall-inkbluesky

this october morning
is as tender
as a lover’s face;
as gentle
as a baby’s hand;
as lovely
as a mother’s kiss

this october morning
softens me into a child
dashing after a falling leaf
grasping it with glee

thinking myself an angel
breaking its fall

but i had cut short
its graceful decent,

its last dance,
its farewell song

i climb to the top of the stairs
in penance

  and release my capture
to the air…

in silent
surrender
of
youth.

child-parent-hands-love

 

 

The Annual Cider Press & PIE Sale: a Marlboro Tradition

The Annual Cider Press & PIE Sale: a Marlboro Tradition

UPDATED 2016

photoThe annual Cider Sale takes place this Columbus Day Weekend (Saturday, October 8th & 9th)  on the green at Marlboro North– at the junction of Route 9 & South Road in Marlboro, Vermont; right next door to Applewoods studio.  Look for the large white tents & families at work–pressing fresh cider as you watch!

Also for sale under the tents: Grafton Cheddar,  homemade apple pie, and other locally baked goods.  Enjoy a cup of hot mulled cider & a slice of homemade apple pie with a side of cheddar in the sit down “cafe” or take jugs of cider home with you for drinking or freezing. (Cider freezes well as long as you leave some space in the top of jug for expansion.) Whole pies for sale too!

The historic town of Marlboro sits just a few minutes west of Brattleboro and east of Wilmington, Vermont on the main thoroughfare across the state: Route 9 (aka. The Molly Stark Trail.)  The Cider Sale has been a Marlboro tradition for 35 years, raising funds for education. This year’s fundraiser benefits the Marlboro Elementary School Junior High Class with Spring 2015 their field studies in Costa Rica!

Who: Everyone! Locals, visitors, families, (even busses–with care to parking.)

What: Marlboro Annual Cider Sale: fresh pressed cider (while you watch), apple pies, cheddar cheese & more!

Where: On the green at Marlboro North, Route 9, Marlboro, VT, Next to Applewoods Studio.

When: Saturday & Sunday, October 8th & 9th, 9am-4pm.

Why: To benefit educational field study for students from Marlboro Elementary School.

How: Community powered!

 

Autumn, be my teacher

Autumn, be my teacher

150995_10151892513673746_932687855_nO sacred season of Autumn, be my teacher
For I wish to learn the virtue of contentment.
As I gaze upon hour full-colored beauty,
I sense all about you
An at-homeness with your amber riches.

You are the season of retirement,
Of full barns and harvested fields.
The cycle of growth has ceased,
And the busy work of giving life
Is now completed.
I sense in you no regrets:
You’ve lived a full life.

I live in a society that is ever-restless,
Always eager for more mountains to climb,
Seeking happiness through more and more possessions.
As a child of my culture,
I am seldom truly at peace with what I have.
Teach me to take stock of what I have given and received;
May I know that it’s enough,
That my striving can cease
In the abundance of God’s grace.
May I know the contentment
That allows the totality of my energies
To come full flower.
May I know that like you I am rich beyond measure.

As you, O autumn, take pleasure in your great bounty,
Let me also take delight
In the abundance of the simple things in life
Which are the true source of joy.
With the golden glow of peaceful contentment
May I truly appreciate this autumn day.

~Edward Hays

Regatta

Regatta

Pic0041_0640
Monet, visipix.com

While everyone is back at school
or at work,
the last rays of summer
speed West across South Pond
in a zillion points of white.

Like a city-scape
reflecting into space,
the competition is so dense
as to render the
deepest waters
white.

Amidst these miniature mariners of light,
a
single
Loon
propels himself
in the opposite
direction,
heading East
Chasing summer
in a one-man Olympic event–
His flamboyant breast stroke
Knocking tiny boats into the breeze.
His mate
no where to be seen.

Closer still,
the wind picks up
flattening white sails
against water
while others furiously tack
toward the Finish line.

I close my eyes,
unable to bear such weight,
waiting for
the
Sails to drop
the
Sailors to go home
the
Waters to still
and
the
single
Loon
to call for his
Mate
in the silent
repose
of
Summer’s
Surrender.