It was a place meant to be worked by horses.
A covered bridge just down the hill.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
It was a place meant to be worked by horses.
A covered bridge just down the hill.



Maybe it’s all those years I labored in an office, but I always thought of work gloves as pretty basic, something you pick up at the hardware store or a yard sale. One of three choices, likely, based on differing price points.
OK, winter gloves had some complications, mostly color or style, for driving or skiing, that sort of thing. Guess you’d look for those at a department store.
And then there were golf gloves. Sporting goods, right? Not that I play.
Now for the eyeopener.
Somehow, our Quaker Meeting wound up on the mailing list for the Uline catalog of industrial-grade janitorial, storage, safety, and shipping supplies. I know we haven’t ordered anything from there in 20 years, not even rubber floor mats, but the fat glossy volumes keep arriving, addressed to our Manager Shipping Dept. How many churches have one of those? Not us!
Anyway, the cover of the latest 812-page release caught my eye. The bottom featured a panel of four work gloves – leather palm, warehouse, utility, and cut resistant. But that was only a tease for the 15 pages of protective hand coverings inside.
Well, our eighth-grade shop teacher did say there was the right tool for every job, so I guess that extends to garb, too.
That said, Covid has made all of us aware of thin, disposable latex gloves, which Uline has for same-day shipment – six pages of those, if you’re interested – including extended cuff, exam grade, and a half-dozen colors other than white or Nitrile blue. And that’s before we get to the food industry variants or chemical resistant strands. Many of these can even be purchased by the bucket. No kidding.
As for those leather ones? Your choice of pigskin, cowhide, deluxe cowhide, goatskin, or deerskin.
Other performance options include ice busters and anti-vibration designs.
Remember, buy in quantity and you save.
What I’m not finding as I look is a yardwork and gardening glove. Seriously.
Maybe I need to trot off to our local Agway to find them.
I never thought this could get so complicated. Are some guys really so picky?
I have no fondness for any of the offices I’ve worked in. They were all impersonal, and for the most part institutional. The best one, on a college campus, was a former dormitory room with painted concrete-block walls. The newsrooms were more like sweatshops. One, at least, made an effort in remodeling, but there were some other negative factors.
A few of my home writing spaces stand a notch higher, though I had some where I sat cross-legged on the floor to type.
Well, come to think of it, the one I really miss is the second-floor studio I converted from a bedroom in the townhouse I rented on the hilltop in Manchester. Everything was in reach there, and I did have a good view of the street and sky. Not that my current third-floor lair is anything to complain about, apart from running up against the sloping ceiling.
I really had dreamed about converting the top of the barn into my author’s haven but see no need to do that these days. The fact is, we really need to downsize, now that it’s just the two of us rather than five. And now that my work’s mostly digital, I don’t require as much storage space for filing cabinets and mailing supplies.
How about your own working spaces? Employment? Kitchen? Workshop? Hobbies?
Followers of this blog have seen the ongoing transformation of my small city’s downtown into a residential mecca.
We’re fortunate to be in a part of the country that has appeal based in part on its proximity to the ocean and mountains as well as the big-city attractions of Boston an hour away, without the crowding and cost of living.
The elimination of the bottlenecks between us and Interstate 95 ten miles away has also made Dover a more affordable real estate alternative compared to Portsmouth’s bloated high prices – even though I’m still in sticker-shock-land when I see what the purchases and rentals are going for. (Who can afford this?)
I had wondered, too, what the impact of all the new luxury apartments downtown would have on the older apartments. Would rental prices fall as a result? Some of the places were what you might call sketchy. And some, even only a few blocks from our place, are distinctly slummy.
What’s surprising me is the number of older rentals that are undergoing upgrades. Plumbing, windows, drywall, kitchens, flooring, even the wiring. It seems to be happening everywhere, though largely out of sight unless you start knocking on doors.
I’m still nervous about the economy in general, but it seems Dover’s in a good place to bounce back after Covid.

The Columbus Day weekend is typically touted as “prime foliage” across much of New England, though we can quibble. In truth, the leaves of the deciduous trees change color in waves rather than all at once. Many are already bare, while many others are still green. And this year, severe drought has taken a toll, too.

While Allen Ginsberg once quipped, “New England, famed for red leaves,” the reality is that few trees fulfill that vision. Far more are golden or buttery. Still, we keep looking.
By the end of the month, our landscape will emerge monotone – and likely remain that way well into March. Knowing what’s ahead, we savor what we can now.


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For my in-depth thoughts and photos reflecting New England’s fall folige, check out my posts from September and October 2013 at my Chicken Farmer I Still Love You blog.

As Cassia examines her father’s photographs in my novel What’s Left, she sees his generation from a fresh perspective.
Here’s her impression before I greatly condensed it in the final story:
That evening, back in her apartment, we sit down with more of the photos.
What I sense now is an unfathomable well of aimless, restless energy on the verge of erupting. The tattered crowd’s seated on the ground for a rock concert. It mills about, waiting for something to happen or someone to appear. It walks en masse down a city street or country highway. It’s lovers clinging to each other in desperation and escape. It’s an angry look while puffing on a cigarette — or a pipe or roach. It’s shirtless, braless, sunburned, tangled.
There’s the happy streak too — defiantly so. And the frenetic dance that could become a tarantella. If only it had been channeled! Directed into sustainable communities, given meaningful work, paid livable wages, engaged fully in public service.
Some powerful forces have run hard against us, Nita says grimly. They set out to destroy it before it overran them.
And?
We were scattered. Not that our causes ever ended. You know, the peace movement. Racial and sexual equality. Educational alternatives. Environment and earth-centered economics. Natural and organic foods, even glutten-free. Fitness, spirituality, music, art … it all continues. You just have to pay attention.
~*~
As the passage relates, many vital social concerns remain.
What would you like to see happen to society in the future?
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Coming up on my tenth year of blogging, I can say I’ve seen a lot of changes in the online practice and what’s being posted.
One of the joys, no doubt about it, is connecting with other bloggers in our shared interests.
I happen to live in a fairly small state, about a million and a half population, with the majority of them living in the Merrimack Valley in the lower middle third of the geography, or along the towns bordering Massachusetts or in the compact Seacoast region. In other words, most of the residents dwell in a connected swath that leaves the bulk of the state pretty rural.
It’s always fun to read blogs by others who post from nearby and often to weigh in with my own comments or to hear theirs.
By the way, I think every place feels special, or should. Take heart, wherever you are, and celebrate what’s worthy.
Gardening is big here, and the state has always had more than its share of poets. That could provide its own Tendrils listing.
As a sampling, here are ten other blogs from the Granite State. I have a feeling I’m missing some significant others that aren’t tagging the state – say people serializing their novel or focusing on poetry or some other topic. I’d like to hear about these in the comments.
Taa-taa:
One other I’ll mention is Isabel Povey, where a 17-year-old Pinkerton Academy beauty queen posts with all of the gushing exuberance you might expect, even in a Covid-restricted era. Yeah, her Seeds of Hope is mostly self-promotion, but I find it refreshing.
We bloggers aren’t all retirees or struggling arts and writers! Yay!
And then the state often pops up in posts by visiting bloggers. Have you ever been here?