Chapter Thirteen, Part Two: In which I find solace at Walden Pond post election and delight in the best ever apple cider and egg nog

Hello everyone,
I am back to talk of happy things. :)

Actually, just to get it out of the way . . . We've all spent a month reeling from the elections. I am massively disappointed, upset, frightened, and determined. My classes that week spent much of our time processing what had happened and how that affected our lives, our families' lives, others' lives, what we could do and what we should do. HDS has been designated a sanctuary due to a statement by the faculty and a petition led by the students. We will see in the future what this will mean for us, the students, the campus, etc. Anyway, this is not the platform on which I want to address the election, except to say that I am so grateful for the chance to vote this election as well as the elation I felt when I had. I will never cease to be grateful that I can vote. I may feel unheard, inaccurately represented, frustrated by systems and inefficient traditions, corruption, biased presentations of information, and a million other things, but I can vote. And in honor of Thanksgiving, I would like to recognize how very grateful I am for that right.

Anyway, as I've alluded to, election week was a very hard one. When life is too much, I have a few things that never fail to make me feel that if not all is right with the world, that at least things can be right within me. The first is listening to music that reminds me of my family. This includes Frank Sinatra, a few 1940's Christmas CD compilations (the Crooner's for sure, oh and Judy Garland), jazz, a lot of scores and classical pieces, and others like Simon and Garfunkel and the Beatles. The second is sitting down to play the piano. I don't often get the chance to do so anymore, and many of my happiest, most cathartic moments as a child to young adult was sitting at the piano and playing for hours as family life swirled around me. The third is retreating to nature. Being in nature holds a power, a tranquility, and an aliveness that always stuns me and rejuvenates me. So the weekend of election week, Spencer and I along with our friends, Zoe and Alex, headed up to Lexington and Concord to go out to a nearby piece of nature. As you can see, I've already posted a few picture of Wilson Farm so let me tell you all about it.

First we went to Wilson Farm in Lexington. It was incredible. The extent of what they produced and the mini grocery store that they had produced entirely from their farm. I'm serious: it was a full-blown grocery store with absolutely incredible apple cider, the best egg nog I've ever ever tasted, and apple cider doughnuts. They grew lots of plants, had livestock in the back that we could visit, a bakery, a Christmas section, everything. I will definitely be going back. It is one of my most favorite places I've been to since moving to greater Boston. It is just so quintessentially New England.

After our magical stop at Wilson Farm, we drove the short distance to Concord to visit the domain of Henry David Thoreau, and the pond in which Amy March (Little Women) almost drowned in when she fell through the ice while ice skating with her other sisters. Walden Pond. And let me tell you, It was stunning, absolutely breathtaking. It wasn't even the height of the autumn colors anymore, and it was still gorgeous.

We started by checking out Thoreau's cabin. The cabin we saw was a replica of Thoreau's home for the few years he was at Walden Pond. But Thoreau was obviously proud of it because he wrote extensive notes about the dimensions of the cabin and wood pile, as well as the placement of all of his furniture and the stove, etc. I mean the guy built it himself, so I suppose that explains his detailed enthusiasm. And yes, there was a statue of Thoreau. And yes, Spencer and I, as we always do, walked in his footsteps for a moment by emulating his deeply ponderous pose.

After seeing Henry David Thoreau's cabin, Zoe, Alex, Spencer, and I proceeded to trek the short walk down to Walden Pond. As I mentioned before, the leaves were no longer at the height of their color before the turn to earthy brown and brasses and golds and fall from their branches. But even so, it was perfect.

We walked along the shoreline, looking at leaves, talking, circumnavigating a bird that was stubbornly standing/sleeping on a rock and would not move. For real though, the bird was there for over a half hour with a few people stopping to look every so often. That bird displayed some serious fortitude and calm. There were people swimming (like triathlon training swimming) in the pond. (Yes, this is allowed, even invited.) And families were out enjoying the last few breaths of autumn before the weather turned and the leaves descended. There was a light breeze which would sweep the leaves from their grasps on the bark and would send them swirling into whirls of rustling, swooshing leaves until they would gently float down, almost like snow, settling on the water, the sand, and our hair. The fallen leaves would occasionally catch a breeze and dance across the sand, flying just over the surface, seeming to lilt to and fro. I really can't describe how lovely and peaceful it was.

Rounding a slight corner, we came to a small inlet. Spencer decided to skip some stones. (He really is very very good at skipping stones. I think at tops he got five or six skips from one stone, which in and of itself is a classic and tranquil image. Also, he's attractive with all his random talents.) Anyway, Spencer's stone-skipping, created a movement among us, and soon Alex, Zoe, and I had joined him is scouting out the best stones for skipping. Spencer was the best at it, with Alex following closely, and then me with varying success, and Zoe with varying success. Spencer and Alex instructed us as to techniques for holding the stone, flicking your wrist and holding your arm to get the right spin to make it glance off the water. It was serious business.


Walden Pond turned out to be exactly what I needed. Quality time with friends, quality time with nature, a small and lovely way to check a site I want to see while living here off of my list (although, I assure you, I'll be coming back), and a small way in which I was able to dislike Henry David Thoreau a little less. (Here's the deal: the guy makes a hole big deal about living in nature and then situates him on his friend's land, ridiculously close to town, and had his mother and sister come to do his laundry and such every week. Talk about "roughing it" in style. Needless to say, this has always colored my opinion of his work. Also, I don't particularly enjoy his writing style although he does have him moments.) Anyway, a new visitor center is also being constructed with really cool rustic, wood log structures. It's really cool but hard to describe.

We stopped in the gift shop and the guy tending the register there gave me a free postcard that showed all the types of leaves that grew and fell at Walden Pond. As an avid scrapbooker, I was very grateful. I, what, saved a whole 25 cents, but it was the gesture that moved me.

Another thing I found in the gift store was the postcard here which says one of my favorite quotes from Thoreau. This is what I mean when I say that "Walden" is dense but holds some real treasures. I mean, what a beautiful iteration of why human beings return to nature, as though it holds some great secret, again and again. "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." Nature really does hold some secret, and returning again and again demonstrates our faith that that something is there and that we can learn it given time, and that by learning it we will truly help us live better lives. After such a harrowing month, Harry Huff's death, drowning in homework resulting in a few emotional breakdowns, the election results, this is what I needed.

Saying goodbye to Walden Pond, Henry David Thoreau, and his little cabin, we headed back to Belmont and life away from the woods.

Once at home, Zoe, Alex, Spencer, and I got our the Apple Cider Doughnuts, Apple Cider, and Egg Nog we had bought at Wilson Farm. Wow! So delicious. Literally the best egg nog I've ever had. I often feel like egg nog gets stuck in my throat like a nasty film, but this egg nog had all the flavor and creaminess with a thinner smoother texture to it. Not runny and no less creamy, just . . . better. The apple cider was wonderful and potent. The apple cider doughnuts tasted perfectly of apple cider and dense cake doughnut (they were divine warm). Sorry my picture is distinctly without apple cider. . . . We drank it all. Also all the doughnuts were devoured. I had to halt all consumption to snap a photo of this solitary doughnut. I'll be going back come Christmas season for sure. The rest of November was much less idyllic than our short two-hour jaunt into a New-England farm and the beauty of Apple Cider and Egg Nog, and the tranquility of Walden Pond. But I'll tell you about it anyway because there are bright moments.

One of the most harrowing weeks of my first semester was in the middle of November. It included two or maybe three essays all due at the same time. One fell through sending that part of my grade from a 100 % to 90%. (Don't worry, it is a small percentage of my overall grade.) It was the first moment that I hadn't been able to turn everything in though. It was really disappointing. The disillusionment of being able to "do it all" in graduate school comes to every graduate student: usually sooner rather than later, but it comes. And this was my moment. I had to decided to take a hit to my grade because I simply didn't have time to read the pages required to write a 500-word response. I felt pathetic. But after hours and hours of trying to finish two other essays, I decided to sleep and eat instead.

I also prayed a lot. My Virginia Woolf essay of The Waves simply wasn't coming together with it then being the night before I had to read the essay out loud in class. I was distressed; I prayed a lot; Barely finished it; revised it before going to bed at 3 a.m., and woke the next morning with five hours of sleep and revised it again. It was 700 words over word count and I just didn't know what to do. So while at work, I emailed my professor (basically my favorite person/professor ever. I really do love her.) and told her of my misgiving, anxiety, and emotional and physical state. She emailed me back saying,

"Dear Natalie,
Thank you for your message and please have no worries. I am just grateful you have been able to prepare something during these difficult and emotionally chaotic days. We ill indeed love you, no matter how many words over the limit you are! I always appreciate your contribution to the class, and I am looking forward to this contribution as well.

Breathe deeply—and don't worry, Stephanie"

I may have cried a little. After work I rushed to the library, printed off my paper, and read it in class. Everyone loved it. Stephanie Paulsell (just so you know her full name) gave me a warm and deeply kind smile, and I felt that everything was going to be alright. I can do graduate school. I can. I honestly believe that the Lord gave me my Virginia Woolf class. I have only had a handful of classes that had a similar level of comradery, genuine love and appreciation for everyone there, and affirming direction from a professor. Another such class was my Transatlantic Literature Women's Studies survey course at Brigham Young Univerity taught by Brandie Siegfried. I don't think I will forget either woman. They have shaped my life in unforgettable ways.

I also got to skype and call many lovely people. Spencer's parents one Sunday and my family the next. My friend Anne received a medical release from her mission, and we were able to skype. It was so good to talk again. I think we talked for three or four hours. It was just wonderful. We've been writing pretty consistently, so it felt like picking up where we left off. My college roommate Paige also skyped me. I was able to call my high school best friend, Sarah, which was long overdue. She's pregnant! (So is my sister McKenzie! All the babies.) Abby, my other college bestie calls me every other week, which provides me much-needed strength and emotional support. It always helps to know that loving relationships can continue to exist despite distance. And I get to hear frequently from my other lovely friends. So great!

Games at the Goodsells

Also, Thanksgiving! HDS held a Community Tea of Thanks. Community Tea is a weekly meal and social gathering that HDS provides for our little community in order to foster love, friendship, community, collegiality, and simply to make sure we're eating. Well the week of Thanksgiving they had a full Thanksgiving meal and invited us to bring others. So I brought Spencer with me, and we had a wonderful evening socializing with good friends and eating good food. Each tradition at HDS had a representative open the evening by giving a blessing of sorts (whatever was truest to their tradition), and I was asked to represent the LDS church. So I explained our emphasis on gratitude within our prayers and then offered a prayer of gratitude. It was nice. For Thanksgiving day, Spencer and I went to our fellow ward members and neighbors the Goodsells. The meal was wonderful, the company delightful, and the post-meal games fun. Unfortunately Spencer has contracted a cold and passed it on to me. But things continue to go well, and I really do have much to be grateful for. I continue to work towards a smooth and successful ending to my first semester at Harvard Divinity School. I got almost all of my Christmas shopping wrapped up and only have a few more presents to crochet. And now I can simply enjoy the Christmas season (and do homework of course). We're going to visit Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's home as a part of our holiday season, (he wrote my favorite carol, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day") and I am so excited.

Cheers to the season, my last week of classes, and seeing a light on the horizon.