I would love to say I have swum in Walden today. And I have, but only metaphorically, inside the pages of the book, not the pond itself. Today, in Concord, the sky was full of rain, so Walden was falling on us, all around.
Personally, I opened my copy of Walden this morning and found Henry being honest from the beginning. He "lived a mile away" from society when he was writing "the bulk" of these pages (he wrote, but then went through several editions & edited like crazy!). He had returned after 2 years, 2 months and 2 days (a phrase which I've only begun 'listening' to within the past year or so, although I've probably 'heard' it my whole life.) Those who scoff at him for being too close to home and letting his mom do his laundry haven't read him lately. He's honest up front.
I then went to Concord, which always means a ride past Walden itself. In the rain, it turns silver.
Starving and went to Helen's (est. 1936) the best restaurant on Main Street, a big grand window to the street. My favorite waitress, who usually wears a frown and seems busy no matter how many customers she has, seemed to welcome me in. I don't know that I've been there more than 10 times in the past 5 years, but she recognized me! I told her I was writing a play about Henry and asked what she'd say if he walked in. "How the hell ya been?" she said with a laugh. I finally asked her what her name was, she said it's Helen. Her GRANDMOTHER started the place in the 30's. It was always known as a bakery before that. I had a Cuban and some coffee. An excellent place to go.
I put more money in the meter outside my car and ran to the Concord Bookshop (est,1940). I purchased a copy of "The Peabody Sisters" and a hardcover of "Margaret Fuller" by the same author, her writing speaks to me in a way that makes me think it will be a pleasure to read. And I have decided to follow my pleasures, especially understanding that they will turn my work into pleasure gradually.
At the Concord Museum I was welcomed from the storm by a nice little old lady volunteer who was happy to take my money for the Museum and the Emerson House. ($15) There was a great exhibit upstairs about Phenology, which is the study of periodic plant and animal life cycle events and how these are influenced by seasonal & interannual variations in climate, as well as habitat factors.
I ran into someone who claimed that he was writing a book about Susan Fenimore Cooper, who was writing about nature 10 years before Thoreau. his friend called Henry "the James Dean" of the Transcendentalists, for having died so young and stealing everyone else's glory.
They have some fancy dining rooms (which put me off) but they also have a recreated Emerson study with all of his genuine artifacts. Somehow, when I poked my head in, I heard voices. Good voices, enthusiastic ones, eager to talk about life and nature and how we are all connected. The intelligent/sympathetic people at the museum must've had the same instincts I did, because they also installed a button with a minute of recorded actors. Including a phrase from Margaret Fuller, "I love to sit in your library without you, " the words & feelings work just as well as if Emerson were there.
I drove by Emerson's house to the way to the Old Manse. Apparently, both have hourly tours and you are not allowed to go into the house otherwise. Walked around in the rain, saw a rabbit, heard the trees in the wind and knew a bigger mess of rain was coming my way. But it was still a warm, lovely August rain. All in all, I didn't mind.
Personally, I opened my copy of Walden this morning and found Henry being honest from the beginning. He "lived a mile away" from society when he was writing "the bulk" of these pages (he wrote, but then went through several editions & edited like crazy!). He had returned after 2 years, 2 months and 2 days (a phrase which I've only begun 'listening' to within the past year or so, although I've probably 'heard' it my whole life.) Those who scoff at him for being too close to home and letting his mom do his laundry haven't read him lately. He's honest up front.
I then went to Concord, which always means a ride past Walden itself. In the rain, it turns silver.
Starving and went to Helen's (est. 1936) the best restaurant on Main Street, a big grand window to the street. My favorite waitress, who usually wears a frown and seems busy no matter how many customers she has, seemed to welcome me in. I don't know that I've been there more than 10 times in the past 5 years, but she recognized me! I told her I was writing a play about Henry and asked what she'd say if he walked in. "How the hell ya been?" she said with a laugh. I finally asked her what her name was, she said it's Helen. Her GRANDMOTHER started the place in the 30's. It was always known as a bakery before that. I had a Cuban and some coffee. An excellent place to go.
I put more money in the meter outside my car and ran to the Concord Bookshop (est,1940). I purchased a copy of "The Peabody Sisters" and a hardcover of "Margaret Fuller" by the same author, her writing speaks to me in a way that makes me think it will be a pleasure to read. And I have decided to follow my pleasures, especially understanding that they will turn my work into pleasure gradually.
At the Concord Museum I was welcomed from the storm by a nice little old lady volunteer who was happy to take my money for the Museum and the Emerson House. ($15) There was a great exhibit upstairs about Phenology, which is the study of periodic plant and animal life cycle events and how these are influenced by seasonal & interannual variations in climate, as well as habitat factors.
I ran into someone who claimed that he was writing a book about Susan Fenimore Cooper, who was writing about nature 10 years before Thoreau. his friend called Henry "the James Dean" of the Transcendentalists, for having died so young and stealing everyone else's glory.
They have some fancy dining rooms (which put me off) but they also have a recreated Emerson study with all of his genuine artifacts. Somehow, when I poked my head in, I heard voices. Good voices, enthusiastic ones, eager to talk about life and nature and how we are all connected. The intelligent/sympathetic people at the museum must've had the same instincts I did, because they also installed a button with a minute of recorded actors. Including a phrase from Margaret Fuller, "I love to sit in your library without you, " the words & feelings work just as well as if Emerson were there.
I drove by Emerson's house to the way to the Old Manse. Apparently, both have hourly tours and you are not allowed to go into the house otherwise. Walked around in the rain, saw a rabbit, heard the trees in the wind and knew a bigger mess of rain was coming my way. But it was still a warm, lovely August rain. All in all, I didn't mind.
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