Sylvia's Journal

Bill and I flew to Lebanon in a straight line from Beverly, which took us over Lawrence, Manchester, past Concord and over Lake Sunapee. As predicted by the briefer all the clouds had moved away eastwards over the Atlantic. I flew the outbound leg at 4500 feet according to visual flight rules (VFR). The air was calm and we had the best seat in the house to see the fall foliage shift from mostly green to mostly yellow, orange and brown.

We circled over the small airfield and then came in from the West, flying very low over the colorful woods. The terminal building is small and feels like a ski lodge, with a large fieldstone fireplace dominating the arrival hall. A fire was smoldering and the coffee was ready. We arrived just ahead of an executive jet that disgorged somber looking men with briefcases. I imagined they were going to discuss how to weather the financial crisis and avoid losing their jet, somewhere nearby in their golf course condo.

Bill flew back and I was passenger, occasionally punching in radio frequencies and checking our position using VORs. He had to work much harder to keep the plane level and hold our altitude because the wind had increased and was gusting from 6 to 12 knots. I had forgotten my camera and regretted it; the colorful quilt below us was magnificent. By the time we landed in Beverly the clouds were back and dotted the sky. We had managed to fly during the cloudless portion of the day.

Back home, with forecasts of temperatures dropping close to freezing, there was no more delaying bringing the plants in. The most successful plants in our household have gotten quite heavy and sit in large clay pots that are hard to carry. Two of those plants have been with us for 26 years, frequently pruned back, survivors from that first batch of plants that I bought when we settled in our first apartment in Brooklyn in 1982. The hibiscus is 40 years old and was brought into our household by Axel. It used to live in the Magnuson greenhouse during the winter, receiving expert care from his father and uncle Phil, all long gone, including Axel Magnuson Florists. Axel was not available for help as he was installing a new dishwasher next door with Ted. By installing the machine themselves they were saving money, but not time. Twenty-four hours later it is still not installed (but close they say).

I finished my fifth batch of mustard and started the sixth, not knowing what the rest of the fall will bring in terms of travel. It is beginning to look like the trip to Tanzania will not be happening, and others, planned later may happen earlier than expected.

In the later afternoon we went to a picturesque farm in Essex where friends of us live who got married a week ago. The view from the road is spectacular with the farm nestled in rolling hills, made up of a series of yellow clapboard buildings, a greenhouse against a background of colorful foliage with a pond and tiny matching clapboard duck house in the front. The view from the barn, where we celebrated the marriage with tons of people we did not know, was just as beautiful. The bride is French, so it was no surprise that several languages were spoken. I met a Moroccan woman who is married to someone whose Dutch forefathers settled in New Amsterdam but who had lost their mother tongue over the generations. I also met a young woman from Brazil who lives in Manchester and cleans houses while she learns English. It gave me an idea.

I was finally able to compare scars with Andrew who had his wrist slit a week before me by the same doctor for the same condition. He is one week ahead in the healing and warned me that eventually the numbness of the area around the scar will wear off and start to hurt. That happened last night – lifting the heavy pots probably did not help.

We stayed up late to watch Sarah Palin on SNL play herself. We were a bit disappointed although the scenes created around her were funny. They were also of the in-your-face variety, which Sarah took in gracefully. I imagined that she was fuming inside, I would have. We did not quite get the point of having her there and wondered whether she had played along or not. We also wished we had been a fly on the wall in the McCain camp discussing this as an opportunity and whether it was seen as a defensive move or just the opposite. The campaign is heating up and people do desperate things to get the vote.