First in the Nation, Flowers in the Garden
So far the job search has produced no concrete results but I'm beginning to feel like I have some idea what I'm doing.
For today the focus is the birthday of the sister. Wrapping, cake buying, going out to a movie, etc.
Yesterday Mom and I went to see Hillary Clinton at Dartmouth. She was leading a "discussion" on stem cell research and governmental approaches to science and evidence more generally. That is, of course, the perfect topic for a campaign stop in Hanover, a location which provides a lot of highly educated liberals, many of them doctors, scientists, and professors. I was reasonably impressed. She did her own talking and gave a very clear account of her efforts in the senate, brought in a couple of families and a scientist or two, none of whom talked unduly long, and let the audience say whatever it had to say. She was clear, thorough and, according to a researcher from the audience, got all her facts right. The bit that I liked the best though was her response to someone who asked her what she would do to jump-start research "when" she took office. She replied right away that she hoped it wouldn't take that long and they'd be able to get the votes they needed to override Bush's veto (if you'd get your senator on our side that'd be a big help). Once that was clear she outlined some added steps she'd take in office. I liked this response for a bunch of reasons: it emphasized the power of the congress, it refused to give up all hope for the next year and a half, and it implied that she wasn't going to give up her usefulness as a senator to run for president.
All of this is tactical observation more than anything and while I was impressed by it, that doesn't mean I'm going to vote for her. I haven't done my research yet and I really know very little about any of the candidates so I haven't the foggiest idea who I'll vote for in January (or whenever we end up having it with all the crazy scheduling madness). I've never been to see a presidential candidate before. I liked it. Though I could have done without so many references to entities like "Dartmouth and Hanover and New Hampshire and the Hanover-Lebanon area" (Not an exact quote but it was something like that and the last bit's right).
In other news and an entirely different, and perhaps rather overwrought writing style,
My mother's primary, though by no means only, approach to gardening is to remove the unwanted plants and clear the way for floral volunteers. The carpets of forget-me-nots that greeted me when I came home are almost faded and the blackberry bushes are fast giving up their flowers to the task of fruit making, but all around the yard are drifts of abundant, early-summer flowers. Wild phlox mingle their bright pastels with the almost luminescent spikes of lupines. Taller still, the lacy white of the rhubarb flowers is giving way to delicate green seeds, their long bunches reaching higher than my head. Banks of yellow celandine grow thick around the half-fallen apple tree, sheltering this year's planting of velvety pansies. In the vegetable garden, the pansies volunteer cousins, Jonny-jump-ups, brighten the overturned soil and the tender greens and reds of the lettuce patch. Behind the house, T's once muddy paddock has returned to good pasture for the goat, grass taller than my knees and dotted with butter-cups and cinquefoil, red clover and white, baby's breath and the first flea-bane daisies. Regular ox-eye daisies are starting to open too, in the garden, the pasture, and in among the phlox and the lupines. A few perennials are still thriving from before we moved in--white globes of peonies, the tips of a few petals barely touched with fuscia, stand open now against the back wall of the house, and under the spruces at the front, golden day lilies and blue irises peak brightly from banks of their own rich foliage. Over them the new tips of the conifers are soft and bright. Tidiness has no place in this garden, but it is abundant and beautiful according to it's own planless patterns, each plant complimenting the next and it the next, by accident or design, spinning outwards in strange and unpredictable varieties of light and shade.
For today the focus is the birthday of the sister. Wrapping, cake buying, going out to a movie, etc.
Yesterday Mom and I went to see Hillary Clinton at Dartmouth. She was leading a "discussion" on stem cell research and governmental approaches to science and evidence more generally. That is, of course, the perfect topic for a campaign stop in Hanover, a location which provides a lot of highly educated liberals, many of them doctors, scientists, and professors. I was reasonably impressed. She did her own talking and gave a very clear account of her efforts in the senate, brought in a couple of families and a scientist or two, none of whom talked unduly long, and let the audience say whatever it had to say. She was clear, thorough and, according to a researcher from the audience, got all her facts right. The bit that I liked the best though was her response to someone who asked her what she would do to jump-start research "when" she took office. She replied right away that she hoped it wouldn't take that long and they'd be able to get the votes they needed to override Bush's veto (if you'd get your senator on our side that'd be a big help). Once that was clear she outlined some added steps she'd take in office. I liked this response for a bunch of reasons: it emphasized the power of the congress, it refused to give up all hope for the next year and a half, and it implied that she wasn't going to give up her usefulness as a senator to run for president.
All of this is tactical observation more than anything and while I was impressed by it, that doesn't mean I'm going to vote for her. I haven't done my research yet and I really know very little about any of the candidates so I haven't the foggiest idea who I'll vote for in January (or whenever we end up having it with all the crazy scheduling madness). I've never been to see a presidential candidate before. I liked it. Though I could have done without so many references to entities like "Dartmouth and Hanover and New Hampshire and the Hanover-Lebanon area" (Not an exact quote but it was something like that and the last bit's right).
In other news and an entirely different, and perhaps rather overwrought writing style,
My mother's primary, though by no means only, approach to gardening is to remove the unwanted plants and clear the way for floral volunteers. The carpets of forget-me-nots that greeted me when I came home are almost faded and the blackberry bushes are fast giving up their flowers to the task of fruit making, but all around the yard are drifts of abundant, early-summer flowers. Wild phlox mingle their bright pastels with the almost luminescent spikes of lupines. Taller still, the lacy white of the rhubarb flowers is giving way to delicate green seeds, their long bunches reaching higher than my head. Banks of yellow celandine grow thick around the half-fallen apple tree, sheltering this year's planting of velvety pansies. In the vegetable garden, the pansies volunteer cousins, Jonny-jump-ups, brighten the overturned soil and the tender greens and reds of the lettuce patch. Behind the house, T's once muddy paddock has returned to good pasture for the goat, grass taller than my knees and dotted with butter-cups and cinquefoil, red clover and white, baby's breath and the first flea-bane daisies. Regular ox-eye daisies are starting to open too, in the garden, the pasture, and in among the phlox and the lupines. A few perennials are still thriving from before we moved in--white globes of peonies, the tips of a few petals barely touched with fuscia, stand open now against the back wall of the house, and under the spruces at the front, golden day lilies and blue irises peak brightly from banks of their own rich foliage. Over them the new tips of the conifers are soft and bright. Tidiness has no place in this garden, but it is abundant and beautiful according to it's own planless patterns, each plant complimenting the next and it the next, by accident or design, spinning outwards in strange and unpredictable varieties of light and shade.