Looking North, a pastel by Barbara Mason based on a photo by Jay Davis. Barbara’s work is in the “In Their Own Voice” exhibition currently at the Lyme Library. You’ll find Jay’s original photo at the bottom, as a bookend.
Dear Daybreak:
On a recent Saturday morning, I woke up to another beautiful if dry day, fed the dogs, made my tea, then read the news—so much of it grim. Then around 9:00, the music started. I live near Thetford Academy, and that day was the Woods Trail Run. It is such a huge, amazing event! It requires myriads of volunteers from the school community and the local community. It is extremely well organized.
I listened to the music, which is really loud at my house. Something about sound waves I presume…it’s louder at my house than on the field. Sometimes the loudness has annoyed me, but not that day. For one thing, it was good music! Well chosen for the event and recorded well. But this time, it was the event itself that got to me. So many people working so hard to create this race for kids. Doing something that matters. Caring for others. Supporting others. The kids out there running their best race. So many people involved in making it a great day. And I thought about the number of events in our community of the Upper Valley, many of which depend on volunteers, and how much good will there is, and that made the day a good one after all.
— Rebecca Lafave, Thetford
Dear Daybreak:
At last the smell of fall has come a lurking.
A chilly night and windows’ fog portent.
The seasons swift, the hands of time are working.
The summer fades and now we reinvent.
Accept the jacket’s comfort when it offers.
As autumn leaves their colored deaths display.
Protection from the present plainly proffered.
Other layers soon compete to stay.
I’d not exchange this sometimes-painful process
For the all sameness others boast is theirs.
The gentle Carolina breezes’ cost is
Winters dormant sleep restores her wares.
The eruption that is spring brings such amazement
From frozen soils abundant jungles thrive.
The verdant life explodes from its containments
and soaking in the midst keeps me alive.
And round the cycle goes without abating.
The Birth and death, the leaves rot into earth.
The seasons that I’ll miss, the ones awaiting.
Absorbing every one for all I’m worth.
— Jay Campion, Etna
Dear Daybreak:
Earlier this month, a friend and I left Vermont for a three-day visit to the beautiful city of Ottawa, Canada. We arrived a bit before noon and checked into a downtown hotel.
We had booked adjoining rooms as my sleep schedule usually includes 2-3 hours of midnight reading. We would leave the connecting door between the rooms a bit ajar as that door had a knob on only one side. Then, after a full day of sightseeing, we made it an early night.
About three in the morning, awake as usual, I was scrolling through my emails and caught up with Daybreak. When I saw Peter Bloch’s video of the snoring loon chick I clicked on that site with the volume at full to enjoy the experience. A few minutes later my wide-eyed friend appeared in the doorway with her phone in hand, ready to dial 911. She was panicked by the disturbing noises emitting from my room. The snoring loon chick wasn’t too bad, but the chick’s incessant shrieks to get the mother loon to feed it led to my friend’s belief that I was being murdered in my bed. It was the highlight of the trip!
— Patricia Sherman, Newbury, NH
Looking North, by Jay Davis
Did you catch Dear Daybreak last week? If not, here it is!