My neighbors seemed to hit on a 21st century harvest ritual last Sunday. It was the first dusk of standard time and was getting dark around 4:40. It had been a beautiful day and we’d all been closing our gardens for the season, when I noticed fires burning in a few backyards. It seemed a fitting way to greet the change in schedule.
(By the way, I don’t think “standard” time is standard anymore, as we observe it for only about four months a year, just as a car’s manual transmission is no longer the “standard” equipment it once was.)
The fact that we shift clocks at all is a symptom of industrial society ruled by measured time. Real farmers rise with the sun, not the clock. We change from daylight to standard time (and vice versa) in the middle of a weekend to ease the Monday morning transition. By the light of the flames, we could see ourselves on the cusp of transition from the global, oil soaked era to a new agrarianism.
Still America
The teenaged girl did not want to attend the Democratic mayoral caucus with me, but I didn’t give her a choice.
Burlington will hold a mayoral election the first Tuesday of March, town meeting day. Four candidates put themselves forward for the Democratic nomination. Vermont caucuses and primaries are open to all registered voters in a given jurisdiction, which sometimes leads to mischief, but usually results in a pure form of democracy.
“You’re going to be voting soon, you need to see how this works,” I said.
“That’s twooo yeeears awaaay,” she replied. A lifetime for teens. She brought her phone, so she could distract herself by texting friends.
The streets around Memorial Auditorium were filled with citizens, discussing the merits (and demerits) of the various candidates. The afternoon was pleasantly warm. Occupy Burlington protesters formed a brass band and marched to the auditorium’s steps, politely moving out of the way so people could enter.
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