Class can be accessed today, but the actual start date is Monday, June 24. Last summer I noticed that many students started doing the work during this week when the material was available, but before class began. This never happens during the regular semesters. Another interesting thing about summer session (aside from the intensity of a six-week schedule) is that many students are from other colleges. This creates a nice diversity.

The father's day gift for my father was a bucket of goodies: eggplant caponata, artichoke hearts, clams (for jazzing up alla olio), dried fruit, trail mix, and 2 lbs. of scallops, which my mother cooked on Sunday and I helped them eat. They were mowing, using a 1942 tractor that belonged to my grandfather, some of the horse pasture in an effort to battle the weeds. A while ago I posted something here, with limited comment because it upset me so, from New Scientist, about genetic manipulation to control an invasive species. Recently I posted the same item to Blogsisters. Funny, not in the ha-ha way but in the "strange" or maybe "ironic" sense, I think not everyone finds altering things (perhaps even us) genetically, or the idea of single sex selection, scary. As a control for invasive species - it is maybe even OK? Or to increase the food supply?

I could puke (literally), the idea is so revolting, and so personally offensive - for so many reasons...because of the slippery slope that can be science, because of choosing based on a characteristic like gender, because the outcome and impacts may be unpredictable, and because of the superiority of organic methods. Bamboo is invasive here in the Castleton yard - we pull some, and tolerate some. That's the organic way. A good pair of gloves and a little elbow grease.

I write this because of the S'ville weeds. They creep deep into the field of timothy, and the horses pick them out of the hay. The idea is to get them before they go to seed, not spray the ground with weedkiller or tinker with their biological make up.

Bob spent most of the weekend glued to the computer, getting ready for a major presentation that he had this morning. Good thing we have a computer at the S'ville house or we couldn't have gone this weekend.

Watching them mow, it was pretty obvious that the big neighboring field - the hay field - is going to need to be cut and baled a little earlier than usual this year. Weather permitting, that is. It is so thick, I'm afraid it will never make it to July 4th. I love getting in the hay, so I am hoping that at least one of the days will be a weekend, so I can be there.

After only 5 days, I conclude that my Dexter Supreme Softspot TCF3 shoes are a marvel - highly recommended. Good thing, because besides the haying, for the first time in my life I have applied for a Reservoir permit, and I am getting a fishing license. Now the extraordinary benefits of essential fatty acids like Omega 3 and 6 can take up an entire post, and that is not the reason for the fishing license anyway. I have no intention of taking fish from the Reservoir. Plus I am taking flaxseed oil to get those wonderful omegas. The Reservoir is the Ashokan, and to go on the NYC DEP controlled grounds you must have both a permit and a fishing license. I've never trespassed on the grounds during all the years when I was growing up nearby, or in any of the years since.

But this year, drinking in the majestic view from the road which crosses the dike is not enough (although I believe that activity in itself to be closely linked to the seeds of creativity). I want to hike around the land and get closer to the communities that have slumbered for 90 years in the valley under the water. I want to discover the ghosts of the past. My feet will just have to cooperate!