Journal of a Sabbatical

November 11, 1999

sleeping in at the end of the millennium

Today's Reading: Born Naked by Farley Mowat, New England Natives by Sheila Connor

The scent of well-seasoned baked beans is wafting through the house, making the whole place feel cozy against the wintry temperatures. I'm heating up the Harold-recipe beans slowly for supper tonight. I wanted to have them for breakfast (we eat baked beans for breakfast in New England - it started with the Puritans) but since I slept in until well into the second hour of The Connection I was hungry enough not to want to wait to heat anything up. Cold cereal is faster if less exotic and less delicious.

It's amazing how much voice-e-snail-mail can accumulate when you're gone for a day and a half or so.

My mother gave me New England Natives for Christmas last year, it's a wonderful history of the New England forest chock full of excellent photographs. Somehow, it wasn't until I sat down and studied it (as opposed to read passages here and there and looking at photos here and there) that I realized a lot of the photos of the Arnold Arboretum were István's. It's funny because we were talking about the reforestation of New England at the dinner table one night this summer and he recommended Sheila Connor's book to me without mentioning that his photos were in it. I should have realized of course that all dendrologists know each other and all dendrologists associated with the Arnold Arboretum know each other even better.... or whatever. Anyway, I had some e-mail from him earlier in the week waiting to be answered so I included a little chiding about not telling me about the photos in with my answer.

Thoreau on Birds has a wonderful entry on red crossbills.

Zsolt had called while I was off in Newport enjoying the high entertainment value of the Corps of Engineers. I was too tired to call him back last night when I got in, so I put it off 'til this afternoon. Fortunately, his latest request is one I can handle without recourse to the Microsoft knowledge base. He's even willing to pay for my consulting time to help with this one. I feel like I should barter, but I'm not sure what dendrological services he could render that I need. I guess I have to think about an appropriate exchange.

The Hungarian conifer book is in galleys and he promised me a courtesy copy. I told him I have my Hungarian dictionary at the ready. He asked me if I remembered the Hungarian for the fruit of the oak tree. "Makkok!" I replied immediately. I wonder if my "Hullo Makkok" sign is still on the door of the Taiwan room.