The photography nut who is not traveling alone must use this ploy sparingly, but Ralph is a generous companion when we’re not on a tight schedule. I spotted this scene on our approach to the town of Stratford, Ontario where we go each summer to see plays. We’re always anxious at that point to get to the place we’ll be staying and then be off to our first play, so I had to make a mental note to be on the lookout for the same place on the way out of town later in the week. Then it was just a matter of climbing down the bank at the side of the road to be closer to the rows of sunflowers. What I liked about this farm was the uncluttered look of the barn as a backdrop. One of my dreams in life is to see a field of sunflowers stretching off into the distance the way we see them in postcards of France. All that will require is that I be in a certain area of France at the right time of year on a nice day traveling in a car with a driver who will accommodate me whenever I implore him to stop the car. At least I know I can accomplish that last part if only the planets will align for the rest of the dream.

I would describe myself as a person with a wide circle of acquaintances but not many friends. Most of my preferred pastimes are solitary pursuits, and I have become accustomed to seeing only family members for several days at a time without regret. There is one circle of friends, however, whose company always gives me satisfaction. It is not just that we have our livelihood in common or that we share the links to colleagues and former students naturally arising from the culture of a school. I believe our bond stems partly from the fact that we are so dissimilar—in upbringing, life experience, and current interests—and yet we accept our differences, most of the time uncritically and frequently with admiration. If I were going to the doctor to discuss a serious problem, I’d want Karen with me to draw on her encyclopedic knowledge of brain, body, and behavior. If only I had Sandy to keep my social calendar current, I wouldn’t have to examine old emails frantically to figure out when I was supposed to show up for book discussions or quick suppers with the group. (Actually, if it weren’t for Sandy, there wouldn’t be many such events.) Try and stay grumpy when Charlene is telling a story, often with herself as the fall guy. Joanne doesn’t know how to place her own interests above those of the group or ahead of anyone else’s. If Alice has ever spoken ill of another person, I was never there to hear it. Gail’s sense of adventure leads her to the nooks and crannies of every place she visits, and she has proven herself a steadfast friend and comforter to many of us just when she could use a little herself. Carol is clever and resourceful and can squeeze more results from an hour of labor than anyone I know, and we have all leaned on her for help with one task or another. Without their having to say it, I know they care about me, admire my rather ordinary accomplishments, and are willing to endure my grandma anecdotes without rolling their eyes heavenward. They take nothing from me and give so much.

On the same day I took yesterday’s canal picture, I was struck by the reflections of bare trees in the water. Reflections or shadows are a popular subject for photographs, and some of my favorites of my own pictures include these elements. What struck me on that overcast day, however, was the predominant brown cast that gave each scene almost a vintage look. This is a color photograph, though, as we can see by the slight sky color. I love to watch water ripple across reflections and to try to catch that moment when the original shapes or lines are still clearly discernible but substantially altered.

Every year there is either a shortage or an oversupply of flu vaccine, and it is either earmarked for particularly flu-susceptible categories of the population or available for free at every community center and grocery store clinic. The CDC has declared the week following Thanksgiving National Influenza Vaccination Week; their message is that it’s not too late to get a shot since February is usually the peak flu month. Many people are careless about getting the shot, willing to take the chance of experiencing an annoying couple of days of discomfort and inconvenience, but epidemiologists and even casual students of history are well aware of the potential this illness has for creating havoc with the national well-being. The Great Influenza by John M. Barry includes every excruciating detail about the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918 which may have killed 100 million people around the globe and was an equal-opportunity destroyer across locations and age groups. When my Granddaddy Melker was a soldier in France in the First World War, he received a letter from their Lutheran pastor about the death of Granddaddy’s beloved younger sister, Margaret, pictured here perhaps a year before she became a casualty of influena. Margaret’s death, in a small coal-mining community in Pennsylvania, exemplified the realities of that flu: it was not confined to populous areas and was fatal to large numbers of seemingly healthy young adults. There is a sad incongruity in the idea that an earnest and uncomplicated young man, still a teenager himself, could have traveled halfway around the world to experience mind-altering combat only to learn that an even worse tragedy had occurred back in his peaceful mountain home.

On the way home from the airport on Monday morning at 5:00 a.m. there was a segment on NPR about how much food Americans waste. Who among us, four days after the usual bountiful Thanksgiving festivities, could hear such a discussion without some discomfort? Later that day, working again on the never-ending basement archaeology project, I came upon a World War II ration booklet with my name on it. It was 1943 and I was recorded as five weeks old and 9 ½ pounds. Several of the sheets of ration stamps are intact but some had been used. I asked my mother about the experience of using ration stamps. Her words: "I remember that red stamps were for meat, but there was also rationing or scarcity of sugar, butter (soon gone altogether), coffee, gasoline, shoes, and rubber for baby pants. The point was to have things for the military, but then the items just became scarce or totally unavailable. There would be long lines and a hassle to apply your points; you never had enough meat, so that’s when I learned to make dishes like dried lima beans and sausage. Beef was the highest price and points of all and hot dogs were lower. I made enchiladas out of green peppers, rice, tomato sauce, and hot dogs. Sometimes we had points but the butcher had no meat; other times we had points but not enough money. One time we scraped together the money for badly-needed shoes and the very day I was going to buy them the radio announced that [leather] shoes would be rationed so I didn’t even go shopping. It seems to me that canned fruits and vegetables were rationed but fresh ones were not. A truck would come around to collect used cans and other things we would now call recyclables. I don’t know why there would be so many unused stamps in that particular booklet." Perhaps it was because the instructions printed on the back include this admonition: If you don’t need it, DON’T BUY IT. Good advice, actually.

A couple of very mild days have driven Farmer Jones outside to continue the late-fall cleanup. As predicted, the dahlias benefited from their careful propagation and wider spacing in the garden, so they’re airing out on every available horizontal surface before winter packaging. I took a final trek out back to deliver my 2006 farewell to the cutting and vegetable garden and found something wonderful: the cut-flower kale that we started from seed last April and found pretty ordinary during the summer had huge ruffled rose-like “flowers” at the end of long ridged stems. These specialty florist items are supposed to have a long vase life, but I have a feeling that we will be reminded before long that they are really cabbages. Usually at this time of year I have the nagging feeling that I should be writing down my evaluations of all my garden experiments, and I know I’ll forget a lot of my conclusions—which of the Talinum varieties was small and inconsequential and which produced graceful sprays of little jewels? which sage is hanging on and may actually come back next year? which of the celosias was multi-branching? But I won’t forget how the Brassica oleracea Sunrise and Sunset brightened the weekend after Thanksgiving. The only question will be whether or not to also buy the seeds of the varieties White Crane and Red Crane. What’s another tray of seedlings to garden lovers like the Joneses?