Good Company

At a time when human life is under so much stress from a new virus and an old injustice, it’s a relief to be living in the midst of so much non-human life. Here, there are five brilliant little goldfinches. I see them sitting in the tiny maple in the front yard, and later behind the house poking in the dirt. Their yellow is brilliant against today’s grey sky. We have rain, on and off today after a long dry stretch, a relief for farmers and gardeners. Between rain showers the birds are very busy, goldfinches fluttering, swallows swooping, bobolinks hovering and then dropping into the tall grass.

At night the fireflies are busy. We have seen a few every night since the weather started warming, but this past week was a huge turning point. After several very warm and humid days, the fireflies took over the fields at night. It’s an amazing sight – tiny lights blinking on and off everywhere I look. I can’t think of a parallel to this display. In early spring the night air was filled with the sound of spring peepers, and this is a sort of visual equivalent. I went out one night after dark with Charlie and we were surrounded by these blinking lights. It felt like entering a fairy world.

The trees are busy too, though their pace is slower. In the winter the beavers felled a couple of large poplars at the bottom of our driveway. They grew on the bank of the little stream that flows from our neighbor’s pond under Gulf Road and then on down to join Otego Creek. The absence of those trees changed the landscape, and I missed them. But now a couple of small maples have emerged. They had been hidden and probably stunted in the shadow of the big trees, but now, with sunlight and room, they’re thriving and filling the hole in the sky the beavers created.

I can’t look at trees now without thinking of Richard Powers’ fascinating novel, The Overstory, which reveals the life of trees and their importance in such beautiful detail. I had read about half of it when it first came out, and for some reason set it down and didn’t get back to it. But then I learned that Rabbi Janet was doing a Zoom class on it, so I started over and finished it. Starting over was quite helpful as there are several interlocking stories that I had found hard to keep track of on first reading. I was highly motivated to finish it in time for Janet’s discussion. Rabbi Janet has retired now after a rich career including the past 21 years as Beth Am’s senior rabbi. The Overstory was her last literature class, and thanks to the virus, she was teaching on Zoom, and thus accessible to me here on the hill – an opportunity I would otherwise have missed. Similarly, we were able to join her last few months of Torah study.

Studying with Rabbi Janet has been a rare pleasure. She’s an amazing scholar with an incredible breadth of knowledge. And she’s a master of close reading, of careful and precise attention to the text. Until she came to Beth Am, I had not studied with such a scholar since St. John’s. A class with Rabbi Janet lit up my mostly lazy brain, reminding me that I could read and think. I will miss her scholarship, I will miss her spiritual and moral leadership, and I will miss her connection to my life. Rabbi Janet was a faithful visitor when Joe was sick and a support after he died. In happier times, she gave Jay and me a blessing before our commitment ceremony, and later she led Jay through the conversion process. We had hoped to be in California for the weekend of her retirement celebrations, but of course we couldn’t travel and those big gatherings couldn’t be held. Still, it was lovely to be able to watch the celebrations from here. With human life is so disrupted, I will miss her wise, calm voice. Luckily for me, I have the good company of the birds, the fireflies, and the trees who have their own wisdom and calm.