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July 30th, 2014

George Shuman

The Phone Is… Dead

Dear Readers,     The words below were written to express a bit of simmering frustration with what I feel is our increasingly isolating, digital world. The tale is one of an exaggerated situation, on an imaginary day far in the future. At least, I think the situation is exaggerated and imaginary. Don’t take it too seriously. Thanks, in advance, for...

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One Frozen Valentine

PHOTO: Shuman frozen valentine.jpg   Cool photo by Emily Shuman February can be a tough time of year, here in the North. Many people up here, including yours truly, are just tired of the chores of winter. There is only so much fun that can be gleaned from snow removal and wet gloves. We’re also tired of the people who tell us that it’s Vermont...

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The Spring Dreamer’s Guide to Seed and Story Sowing

  I was at Walmart the other day. You probably were too, just because almost everyone was probably at Walmart the other day. Everyone seems to wind up there eventually, and often it is fairly often.   Anyway, I was at Walmart the other day, and spent a few minutes daydreaming, or, more accurately, spring-dreaming, in the seasonal area of...

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Pellet Power

  If you enter our home anytime between the end of October and whatever month winter feels like releasing it’s cold grip on us, here in Vermont, you will hear a faint but unmistakable sound. That is, it will forever be unmistakable after you no longer mistake the sound for something else. At first, the sound seems to have the strange echo-y to...

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Right Around the Corner

  When I was a child, and when you were a child, summers seemed to last forever. Tell me if I’m wrong. A school year was painfully long, but summer break made up for it all. Each warm month off seemed like a year in itself, or seemed, at least, long enough so that, as we played in the sun, September was not even a thought until only days befor...

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The Guardian (a fanciful story)

  By G. E. Shuman   It has been many years since I first became guardian of this place, for these few weeks, at this magical time of the year. I have no idea of the number of those past years, and have failed at counting the long periods of rest and darkness in between the wonderful times of light. Those most recent eleven black months ar...

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It’s About Time

TOTALLY OPTIONAL PHOTO: Shuman clock guy.gif         The cheap, white plastic wall clock in our bathroom just died the other day. I think the reason is that it was just not designed to survive in a humid place like a bathroom. Go figure. I tried electro-shock, replacing the double-A Duracell in the clock, but it still only ran f...

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Snow Tires

  by G. E. Shuman   There are parts of the usual ritual of fall that I don’t really mind… and then there are snow tires. “Tucking in” for fall is just something I do every year; checking the house for leaks around the outside doors, removing window air conditioners, arranging for fuel deliveries, and so on. And then there are snow t...

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Late Fall in the North

  by G.E. Shuman   I’m writing from my usual spot on our glider-swing, on the breezy front porch of our old Vermont home, on a chilly, late-fall Sunday evening. Our house is in the city, but the city is small. Our street ambles along the top rim of one side of a crater-like bowl or ravine; above the muted bustle of the business that is Ba...

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Spooky!

  It is a distant memory, cold and old, dusted off now as a long-neglected, rediscovered book might be. It matters, somehow, that this nearly forgotten evening lived within a mid-nineteen sixties October. Perhaps it could just be that the late autumn wind cooled and creaked the leafless, lifeless-looking trees even more back then than now, aga...

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