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January 1, 2026

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00 Post to Chestertown Spy Spy Highlights Spy Journal

Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden Read by Sue Ellen Thompson

December 23, 2025 by Spy Daybook Leave a Comment

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

—Robert Hayden
Robert Hayden was an American poet born in Detroit in 1913 and known for his clear, thoughtful poems about Black history, family, and moral struggle; he died on February 25, 1980. His best-known books include A Ballad of Remembrance, Words in the Mourning Time, and Angle of Ascent. He was the first African American Poet Laureate of the United States, appointed in 1976.
Sue Ellen Thompson is the author of six books of poetry—most recently SEA NETTLES: NEW & SELECTED POEMS. She has taught at Middlebury College, Binghamton University, Wesleyan University, Central Connecticut State University, and the University of Delaware. A resident of Oxford, MD for the past 18 years, she mentors adult poets and teaches workshops for The Writer’s Center in Bethesda. In 2010, the Maryland Library Association awarded her its prestigious Maryland Author Award.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 00 Post to Chestertown Spy, Spy Highlights, Spy Journal

Looking at the Masters: Edvard Munch

December 18, 2025 by Beverly Hall Smith Leave a Comment

Expressionist painter Edvard Munch (1863-1944) was born in Loten, Norway. He perhaps is best known for “The Scream” (1893), a painting that reveals his anxiety, alcoholism, and depression. He was weighed down by family members’ deaths when he was very young. Additional factors were his poor health and his father’s religious zeal and harsh discipline. As an expressionist he almost always chose emotion over realism.  Munch also painted many portraits and landscapes. He spent his life in Norway, with trips to Paris and Germany. 

 

“Winter in the Woods, Nordstrand” (1899)

This article on Munch’s lesser-known landscapes, winter settings in particular, explores a unique side of his work. By the time “Winter in the Woods, Nordstrand” (1899) (24”x 35”) (oil on cardboard) was painted, Munch had become known internationally. From 1899 through 1901, he painted several winter landscapes of the fjords at Nordstrand, south of Oslo. The setting of this piece is a dark spruce forest in the snow. No people are present, but footprints in the snow indicate that people recently had come this way. The heavy clumps of snow on the trees are fresh. The wind has not yet dislodged them. Munch used thick strokes of paint, but he let the tan cardboard show through in places. Like the Impressionists, whom he admired, he painted shadows in shades of blue. However, he also had a heavy hand with black. He was creating his personal style. 

The painting, often described as melancholy, is a close-up view of the forest, the sky not included in the scene. But the sun shines across the exposed ground and causes the snow to glow. Munch depicted nature as raw and powerful with his use of broad sweeping brushstrokes. He explained, “Painting picture by picture, I followed the impressions my eye took in at heightened moments. I painted only memories, adding nothing, no details that I did not see. Hence the simplicity of the paintings, their emptiness.”

“White Night” (1901)

In winter in Norway, “polar night,” the scientific term for the phenomena, occurs when the Sun remains below the horizon. The title of the painting, “White Night” (1901) (45’’x44”), actually refers to the same phenomenon that occurs during the summer. The whiteness of the snow prevents the winter polar night from becoming completely dark. Munch painted the dark silhouette of the trees in the foreground, the snow and tree shadows in the middle ground, a tan barn with a snow-covered roof, another stand of spruce trees, and the swirling waters of the fjord and coast in the distance. The sky is sunless, but not dark.  Munch’s use of black and cool blue colors produces the chill of the scene. Not at all depressing, the work is an expression of the beauty, power, and vast scope of nature’s many attitudes.

 

“Winter Landscape” (1901)

Munch painted numerous winter scenes, and like music, they are a theme and variations. “Winter Landscape” (1901) (32”x48”) focuses more on the field of white snow and the blue shadow cast by the spruce tree. Large red, brown, and black rocks stand out against the white snow. A row of shorter and taller trees in the distance also calls attention to the stars in the blue sky. Munch never tired of painting winter scenes

 

”New Snow” (1900-01)

“New Snow” (1900-01) (29’’x23’’) presents another view of a spruce forest. A wide road leads the viewer’s eye through the forest. It was well-used, but covered in fresh snow. Brown tree trunks are scattered through the forest and the spruce trees are painted fresh green. The stylized trees have just been covered by the stylized clumps of snow. Munch transformed the forest into something dreamlike, poetic, and timeless. 

Munch suffered a physical and mental breakdown sometime during the period of 1908 through 1909, and he checked himself into a private sanitarium. On recovering, he declared he had become a teetotaler and a vegetarian. He returned to the town of Kragero and settled in there. He wrote, “I am now working full time, I feel, it now seems as if I am at my artistic peak. Never has my work given me so much joy.”  He was honored in a Sonderbund exhibition in Copenhagen that included works by Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Picasso. Munch wrote, ”All the wildest things that have been painted in Europe are collected here–I am practically a pale classicist.”

Munch moved in 1916 to a country home in Ekely, near Oslo. The house, with a view of the city, sat on 11 acres that included an apple orchard. He built several studios. He lived a fairly isolated life and continued to paint landscapes. He nearly died during the 1919 Spanish flu epidemic.  During that time, he had several exhibitions in major European cities.

 

“Starry Night” (1922-24)

“Starry Night” (1922-24) (47”x39”) was one of the night sky series Munch painted from the top steps of his veranda. He often depicted himself as a lone shadow on the snow as he does here. Munch, the only figure in some of his paintings, is interpreted as loneliness and solitude which he preferred. He does include a view of the distant city. It is in the vastness of nature that human fragility, his own and humans in general, can be felt. There is a sense of life and time passing. 

In this later style, Munch used more varied and more vivid colors. The color red carries through the work: the red of the veranda in the foreground, the red in the bridge, the red house with the white windows in the middle ground, the pink sky created by the Sun’s position below the horizon, and the reds and pinks in the stars set in the dark blue heaven. He often depicted the constellations of Jupiter or the Pleiades that intensified his sense of the celestial world.

The expressionism of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” (1889) and Munch’s “Starry Night” often have been compared. Both works are considered masterpieces.

 

“Winter in Kragero” (1925-31)

Munch moved to Kragero in 1908 after his nervous breakdown. He found the light and environment stimulating. He began painting urban scenes in 1909. “Winter in Kragero” (1925-31) (54”x59”) is a depiction of the city from a distance. The large yellow building at the right of the canvas is set next to the snow-covered roof of a house, neither painted in detail. A tall tree and a very slim tree stand on the diagonal slope that leads to the city. Kragero’s buildings rise up the hillside, and behind them are mountains. Although he frequently included scenes of towns in his work, these later paintings place the town at a distance.   

The Nazis designated Munch’s work as “degenerate art” in 1937, seized 82 of his paintings, and sold them to raise money.  The paintings were taken from German museums and Jewish collections.  A lost and then found Munch work “Dance on the Beach” (1906) sold at auction in 2023 for $22 million. Munch painted until he died on January 23, 1944. He willed to the city of Oslo his artwork and his collection of texts: 1150 paintings, 17,800 prints, 4,500 watercolors and drawings, 13 sculptures, his notebooks, and the plays and poems that he had written. The writings were unavailable to the public until January 1, 2015.  Munch was a major catalyst in the development of the Expressionist style that continues to be of major significance in the progress of 20th and 21st Century art. 

“Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye…it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.” (Edvard Munch)


Beverly Hall Smith was a professor of art history for 40 years. Since retiring to Chestertown with her husband Kurt in 2014, she has taught art history classes at WC-ALL and the Institute of Adult Learning, Centreville. An artist, she sometimes exhibits work at River Arts. She also paints sets for the Garfield Theater in Chestertown.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 00 Post to Chestertown Spy, Looking at the Masters, Spy Journal

Food Friday: On Your Marks!

December 5, 2025 by Jean Sanders Leave a Comment

I stopped by the post office early yesterday morning, before 9:00, before the counter was open, to pick up some stamps from the machine in the lobby, and already there was a queue of grim folks, their arms full of awkwardly shaped holiday parcels. That was on December 4th – and Christmas is still a couple of weeks away. The U.S. Postal Service has announced we should have all our packages in the system by December 17th if we have even the vaguest hope that they will arrive by the 25th. There can be no more dilly-dallying. It’s time to get cracking. To echo The Great British Bake Off – “On your marks. Get set. Bake!”

I’ve given up perusing all the gift ideas foisted on us by magazines and websites – even Consumer Reports wanted to tell me what to buy over Black Friday. Ordinarily I like a good time waster; I love looking at the luxury items I will not be buying for myself. The New York Times has its Wirecutter – an excellent resource – they review porch furniture, laptop computers, steak knives and linen sheets among scads of important life choices. New York Magazine’s Strategist is a little more frivolous and light-hearted: life-altering mascaras, the best inexpensive underwear, scented candles, and the shoe sales of a lifetime. These are both enjoyable rabbit holes. But this year I am busy protesting corporate greed, so our Christmas gifts will have a distinctly homemade vibe. Cookies and books R Us in 2025. Plus we are about to move again in two weeks, and I won’t have the stamina for elaborate presents this year. Sorry, grandchildren! Nothing frivolous for you this year.

This weekend I am having a bake-a-thon, and will be whipping up batches of Christmas cookies, so I can go join the queue at the post office on Monday with my boxes of home-baked Christmas cookies. I won’t be a sour puss, though. I will have my arms full of sweetness for my loved ones.

I love fancy cookies. Give me a fistful of fancy, store-bought, pastel-colored macarons any day. Let me enjoy artfully piped royal frosting. Show me an abundance of tooth-cracking silver dragées, and glittery dusting sugars. And now – let’s talk reality. The best home-made cookies remind us of our own childhoods. We baked homely cookies that always looked a little wonky, but the best part was sampling them as we went along. Remember all those tiny tastes of dough and batter and icing? Ostensibly, we were learning how to decide if there was enough salt or vanilla or ginger in our mixtures. The reality was a sticky advance sampling of forbidden sweets. Remember smelling those cookies as they baked? Or that terrible aroma of burnt sugar cookie? There were so many lessons to be learned in a single wintery afternoon.

Production and assembly-line cookies are the easiest cookies for children, and consequently their adults. Mix, scoop, bake, repeat. Think of Mr. Gilbreth and Cheaper by the Dozen. And think of chocolate chip cookies, and gingersnaps, and slice and bake cookies. Chocolate chip cookies call for uniform scoops of dough onto parchment paper-covered sheet pans. I bake a couple of batches of chocolate chip cookies every month. The dough freezes nicely, so there is never a cookie shortage in this house. I scoop all the batter, freeze the balls, and can dip into the freezer whenever there is a situation that calls for chocolate. This is my favorite recipe. I consider that the addition of oatmeal makes it health food. Oatmeal Chocolate Chips

I always thought this was my mother’s recipe, but it turns out it is her sister’s. Either way, I am related to it. And I share it here every year.

Gingersnaps

Makes approximately 3 dozen cookies
Pre-heat the oven to 350°F

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon ground ginger
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
Sift together the dry ingredients above. This is crucial – follow the steps here.

Add the dry ingredients to:
3/4 cup softened butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1/4 cup molasses

Mix thoroughly. Roll mixture into small balls and then roll the balls in a bowl of granulated sugar. Flatten the balls onto parchment paper-lined cookie sheets with a small glass. Bake for 12-15 minutes. Cool on racks. They are quite delicious with a nice cold glass of milk. We just loved rolling the balls in the little Pyrex bowls of sugar, and then flattening the balls with jelly jars. Sometimes we would get creative, and use a drinking straw to make a hole in the flattened cookie – so we could use a ribbon and hang it from the Christmas tree.

Like many of the best secret family recipes, Snowball Cookies come from the Land O’Lakes test kitchens. They are tasty, reliable, and easy to make: Snowball Cookies

This is another family stalwart: Fudge. I love watching fudge being made in shops, on long marble-topped tables. At home, I prefer the easiest and most reliable method: following the recipe on the Carnation Sweetened Condensed Milk label. This year I am crushing some candy canes to add for a colorful, minty-fresh topping:Fudge

Baking cookies is therapeutic. You can relive some childhood memories, while creating some new ones, too. And you can share the holiday love. Leave some cookies for your letter carrier. Bring a plate across the street. We live in stressful times, and sometimes it is nice to pour a glass of milk, and sit down with a plate of crisp, sugary indulgence, and flip through some gift guides.

“Even when freshly washed and relieved of all obvious confections, children tend to be sticky.”
–Fran Lebowitz


Jean Dixon Sanders has been a painter and graphic designer for the past thirty years. A graduate of Washington College, where she majored in fine art, Jean started her work in design with the Literary House lecture program. The illustrations she contributes to the Spies are done with watercolor, colored pencil and ink.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 00 Post to Chestertown Spy, 1 Homepage Slider, Food Friday, Spy Journal

Food Friday: Thanksgiving Redux

November 28, 2025 by Jean Sanders Leave a Comment

 

This is a repeat of our almost-annual Food Friday Thanksgiving column, because we are still trying to recover from yesterday’s holiday feast. NPR still has Susan Stamberg’s Cranberry Relish recipe, although Susan died recently. We will remember her mother-in-law’s recipe fondly every Thanksgiving. Mama Stamberg’s Cranberry Relish

Somewhere on the internet yesterday you heard Arlo Guthrie singing Alice’s Restaurant for its 58th year. (Farewell to, Alice, too. “And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest”.) The Spy’s Gentle Readers get to enjoy the annual rite of leftovers as engineered when my son was in college. In in these fraught times it feels reassuring to remind ourselves of the simpler times. Here’s a wish for a happier, kinder world next Thanksgiving!

And here we are, the day after Thanksgiving. Post-parade, post-football, post-feast. Also post-washing up. Heavens to Betsy, what a lot of cleaning up there was. And the fridge is packed with mysterious little bundles of leftovers. We continue to give thanks that our visiting college student is an incessant omnivore. He will plow systematically through Baggies of baked goods, tin-foiled-turkey bits, Saran-wrapped-celery, Tupperware-d tomatoes and wax-papered-walnuts.

It was not until the Tall One was in high school that these abilities were honed and refined with ambitious ardor. His healthy personal philosophy is, “Waste not, want not.” A sentiment I hope comes from generations of hardy New Englanders as they plowed their rocky fields, dreaming of candlelit feasts and the TikTok stars of the future.

I have watched towers of food rise from his plate as he constructs Jenga arrangements of sweet, sour, crunchy and umami items with the same deliberation and concentration once directed toward Lego projects. And I am thankful that few of these will fall to the floor and get walked over in the dark. We also miss Luke the wonder dog, and his Hoovering abilities. What a good dog.

I have read that there may have been swan at the first Thanksgiving. How very sad. I have no emotional commitment to turkeys, and I firmly belief that as beautiful as they are, swans are mean and would probably peck my eyes out if I didn’t feed them every scrap of bread in the house. Which means The Tall One would go hungry. It is a veritable conundrum.

The Pilgrim Sandwich is the Tall One’s magnum opus. It is his turducken without the histrionics. It is a smorgasbord without the Swedish chef. It is truly why we celebrate Thanksgiving. But there are some other opinions out there in Food Land.

This is way too fancy and cloying with fussy elements – olive oil for a turkey sandwich? Hardly. You have to use what is on hand from the most recent Thanksgiving meal – to go out to buy extra rolls is to break the unwritten rules of the universe. There are plenty of Parker House rolls in your bread box right this minute – go use them up! This is a recipe for fancy pants folks. Honestly. Was there Muenster cheese on the dining room table yesterday? I think not.
Pilgrim Sandwiches

And if you believe that you are grown up and sophisticated, here is the answer for you. Thanksgiving leftovers for a grown up brunch: After Thanksgiving Brunch

Here are The Tall One’s ingredients for his signature Pilgrim Sandwich, but please feel free to embellish:
Toast (2 slices)
Turkey (2 slices)
Cranberry Sauce (2 teaspoons)
Gravy (2 tablespoons)
Mashed Potatoes (2 tablespoons)
Stuffing (2 tablespoons)
Barbecue Sauce (you can never have too much)
Bacon (if there is some hanging around)
Mayonnaise (if you must)
Lettuce (iceberg, for the crunch)
Celery stalk (more crunch)
Salt, pepper
A side bowl of potato chips

And now I am taking a walk before I consider making my own sandwich.

“Leftovers in their less visible form are called memories. Stored in the refrigerator of the mind and the cupboard of the heart.”
-Robert Fulghum


Jean Dixon Sanders has been a painter and graphic designer for the past thirty years. A graduate of Washington College, where she majored in fine art, Jean started her work in design with the Literary House lecture program. The illustrations she contributes to the Spies are done with watercolor, colored pencil and ink.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 00 Post to Chestertown Spy, 1 Homepage Slider, Food Friday, Spy Journal

Food Friday: Green Beans, Reimagined

November 14, 2025 by Jean Sanders Leave a Comment

I have never bought a can of cream of mushroom soup. I have never willingly consumed it. I will never buy a can of cream of mushroom soup. That is my mantra. If I could embroider I would probably have a cross-stitched pillow or two that announced this aversion. It might be genetic – my mother never used that staple of 1960s cooking, although she was fond of Jell-o molds. I doubt if my children have ever cooked with mushroom soup – although I have never asked them directly – I am employing delicate generational diplomacy: some things are private.

Not willingly eating mushroom soup has never made me popular at Thanksgiving, when everyone in the United States whips up their secret family recipe for Green Bean Casserole, which involves cooking perfectly delicious and crunchy green beans in a white Corning Ware casserole dish, smothered in a chemical septic field of gray mushroom slop, topped with canned fried onions. At Thanksgiving we should be giving thanks for the wonderful bounty of nature – not for PFAS, sodium nitrates, and other preservatives.

As a child I did not care for cooked vegetables, with the exception of corn and potatoes. And pizza. I have always preferred the crisp snap of fresh beans, the cool orbs of peas as they slide out of their pods, and cold, peppery radishes, floating in Pyrex bowls of iced water. It was one of my mother’s super powers that she assigned vegetable duties to me and my brother on the back porch steps in the summertime. It might take us forever to shell the peas, or string the beans, or shuck the corn, but we were quiet, and out of her hair. The price she paid was we might not fill the cooking pot with peas, because we had gobbled a few handfuls as we performed our task: one pea for me, one pea for the pot. The same technique worked with the string beans. We’d break of the ends, eat a few beans, throw the rest into the colander. We ate the greens without Mom hectoring us. Genius. And deelish. Who could eat hot, slimed green beans, dripping with mushroom soup after that childhood exposure to healthy eating?

I almost overlooked an obituary in the New York Times a few years ago. Dorcas Reilly died in New Jersey at 92. Reilly invented the almost ubiquitous Green Bean Casserole that appears on so many Thanksgiving dinner tables. Modestly, Reilly asserted she was just part of the team that developed the dish at Campbell’s Soup in Camden, New Jersey in 1955. They were looking for a tasty, economical side dish. This has just six ingredients, and it can be easily assembled by anyone. It became an institutional classic; it was America at its most homogenous and bland. Campbell’s estimated once that 20 million green bean casseroles would be prepared annually in the United States at Thanksgiving. Imagine being the person who was responsible for such a legacy. Will you have a green bean casserole on your table? Dorcas Reilly obituary

The Original: Campbell’s Green Bean Casserole
1 10 3/4-ounce can of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup
1/2 cup milk
1 teaspoon soy sauce
A dash of pepper
4 cups cut green beans
1-1/3 cups of French fried onions

Mix soup, milk, soy, pepper, beans and 2/3 cup onions in 1-1/2-quart casserole.

Bake at 350°F for 25 minutes, or until hot. Stir. Sprinkle with remaining onions. Bake five minutes. Serves six.

Here is an alternative: This is a labor-intensive recipe, best brought to a potluck Thanksgiving, when you can boast about making the mushroom sauce from scratch. No sodium-riddled canned soup for you! Green Bean Casserole

I just love these bundles of beans trussed up with ribbons of bacon: Green Bean Bundles

This recipe can be made in advance, but it eliminates all the fun of the French fried onions, and it makes you make bread crumbs! Shocking! Another Green Bean Casserole

Get organized! The Thanksgiving clock is ticking down!

In two short weeks Thanksgiving will be over – except for the best part with the Pilgrim sandwiches, and some leftover pumpkin pie, smuggled cold from the fridge and eaten hastily while standing at the pantry window, looking out over the swirl of black leaves in your childhood home’s back yard.

“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.”
—John Fitzgerald Kennedy


Jean Dixon Sanders has been a painter and graphic designer for the past thirty years. A graduate of Washington College, where she majored in fine art, Jean started her work in design with the Literary House lecture program. The illustrations she contributes to the Spies are done with watercolor, colored pencil and ink.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 00 Post to Chestertown Spy, 1 Homepage Slider, Food Friday, Spy Journal

Looking at the Masters: Chrysanthemums

November 13, 2025 by Beverly Hall Smith Leave a Comment

The chrysanthemum was noted as early as the 15th Century BCE in China. The boiled roots of the plant were used in a remedy for headaches. Chrysanthemum sprouts and petals were included in salads and soups. The sweet odor and beautiful colors made the flower a popular component of garlands and bouquets. Since the chrysanthemum bloomed late when other flowers were fading, it became a popular fall flower. By 1630 CE, 500 cultivars had been created, and the estimated number of Chinese cultivars by 2014 was 7,000.  More than 20,000 varieties of the chrysanthemum are recognized world-wide. 

The chrysanthemum has been associated with fall for hundreds of years because it blooms in the cooler weather of fall and early winter when other flowers have faded or died. It also is associated with strength against harsh conditions. It is associated with longevity because it grows in abundance every year, fidelity and optimism because it returns year after year, and joy because it blooms in such a variety of colors.

“White Chrysanthemums” (1654)

Chinese poet Qu Yuan (340-278 BCE) was one of the first to write poetry about mums. In his poem “Li Sao” he wrote, “Drink dew from the magnolia in the morning and take autumn chrysanthemum’s falling petals as food in the evening.” Xiang Shengmo’s “White Chrysanthemums” (1654) (31”x15.5’’) (hanging scroll) illustrates the beauty of the flowers, leaves, stems, and buds of the mum. The upright strength of the mum is depicted in the composition. No stem breaks or bends, and buds branch out at all points. 

Xiang Shengmo was born during the Qing dynasty (1644-1911), founded by the Manchus. Art and literature flourished during the period, but European art was beginning to influence traditional Eastern art. Xiang was fortunate to have grown up with his grandfather’s huge collection of historic Chinese painting and calligraphy.

“Chrysanthemums” (1723-35)

Lang Shining (1688-1766) was born Guiseppe de Castiglione in Milan, Italy. He entered the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) in Genoa at age 19. He remained a lay brother rather than becoming a priest. He worked in Lisbon for several years until Qianlong, the Emperor of China in the Qing dynasty, became interested in employing European Jesuits in China to train Chinese people in various fields, one of which was painting. Qianlong’s reign is considered to be the Golden Age of China. Castiglione reached Macau in August 1715 and Beijing a year later. He served the next three Qing emperors. He adopted the Chinese name Lang Shining.     

Castiglione/Shining’s “Chrysanthemums” (1723-35) (silk with tempera) is one of hundreds of his paintings of flowers, birds, landscapes, battle scenes, and portraits. Shining uses the Chinese style of composition, the delicate balance between objects and empty space. His details of the flowers, leaves, and birds are more specific without being overwhelming. Shining used the technique of chiaroscuro, strong contrast between light and dark, to create depth, for example, in the rendering of the leaves from light to dark greens The white chrysanthemum petals are delineated with light gray paint. Shining mastered the difficult process of painting on silk with tempera, a water-based paint. With too much water, the color runs through the silk, and there is no way to save the work. He died in Beijing in 1766 and is buried there. His obituary was written by the Emperor Qianlong, and a stone monument was erected.

“Chrysanthemums in a Deep Ravine in China” (1840s)

The chrysanthemum arrived in Japan in the 5th Century CE, and the popularity of the plant spread throughout Japan, including royalty and commoners alike. The chrysanthemum was a symbol of autumn, harvest, longevity, rejuvenation, and good will. White chrysanthemums were used at funerals. Many families incorporated the chrysanthemum into their seals. The yellow chrysanthemum, the color of the sun, was adopted as the symbol of the Imperial family.  It is used in the Imperial Seal of Japan, and the Japanese throne is known as the Chrysanthemum Throne. The Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum is the highest honor the government can award.

“Chrysanthemums in a Deep Ravine in China” (1840s) is a woodcut print on a fan by the famous Japanese artist Utagawa Hiroshige (1797-1858). Hiroshige detailed the separate petals of the flowers, and they are large blossoms typical of the flowers cultivated in Japan. Hiroshige also includes a reference to a Japanese tale. The seated figure in the yellow box is a favored young attendant of the Emperor Mu Wang (1007-947 BCE) who was forced into exile by jealous rivals at court. Before the attendant was exiled, the Emperor taught his servant a Buddhist verse. It was said the young attendant wrote the verse on petals of chrysanthemums so he would not forget them. The petals became known as an elixir of eternal youth.

“White and Yellow Chrysanthemums in the Garden at Petit Gennevilliers” (1893)

Pierre Louis Blancard, a French merchant, brought chrysanthemums from China in 1688. Scottish botanist Robert Fortune brought 250 new varieties from China and Japan in 1846. The Chrysanthemum became a symbol of friendship and love in France, England, and America. 

“White and Yellow Chrysanthemums in the Garden at Petit Gennevilliers” (1893) (29’’x34’’) was painted by Gustave Caillebotte. He and Claude Monet, both well-known painters, were great friends, drawn together by art and gardening. Caillebotte made six large, close-up paintings of chrysanthemums in 1893. The Victorians’ obsession with flowers led to the development of the language of flowers. White chrysanthemums, often included in funeral bouquets and wreaths, became associated with mourning. They also are associated with loyalty, honesty, and innocence. Golden yellow mums represent wealth, the sun, happiness, celebration, and longevity.  Pink mums represent attraction and romance–red mums, love and passion.  Violet mums were given to the ill, as a wish for return to health. Caillebotte delineates the individual petals, uses bright colors, and portrays sunlight light dancing across the canvas.  

“Chrysanthemums in the Garden at Giverny” (1897) was painted by Caillebotte’s fellow flower and garden enthusiast Claude Monet. Monet’s obsession with waterlilies is well-known, but he also was drawn to Japanese woodcuts made by Hokusai and others, who did not use European perspective. This piece is one of several in Monet’s “Large Flower” series, through which he experimented with the Japanese style. Monet’s garden was his pride and joy, and he designed his garden by color and contrast. He does not delineate each petal in each flower, but paints just enough to let the viewer know the flowers are mums. The painting is a luscious riot of colors.


Beverly Hall Smith was a professor of art history for 40 years. Since retiring to Chestertown with her husband Kurt in 2014, she has taught art history classes at WC-ALL and the Institute of Adult Learning, Centreville. An artist, she sometimes exhibits work at River Arts. She also paints sets for the Garfield Theater in Chestertown.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 00 Post to Chestertown Spy, Looking at the Masters, Spy Journal

Looking at the Masters: St Martin’s Day and Martinmas

November 6, 2025 by The Spy Desk Leave a Comment

”Saint Martín and the Beggar” (1597-99)

The Feast of St Martin, or Martinmas, is celebrated on November 11. El Greco’s painting “St Martin and the Beggar” (1597-99) (76”x41”) (National Gallery of Art, DC) is a depiction of St Martin of Tours (c.316-397), a member of the Imperial cavalry of the Roman Emperor Constantine the Great.  Martin was stationed in Gaul in the French city of Amiens. The story goes that on a cold winter day Martin came across a naked beggar. He took off his warm green wool robe and cut it in half to share with the poor man. That night Martin experienced a vision of Christ wearing the robe, Christ said to him, “What thou hast done for that poor man, thou hast done for me.” Another story tells that when Martin awoke, his cloak had been restored. In the painting, Martin rides a magnificent white Arabian horse, in keeping with his position. He wears black armor decorated with elaborate gold designs in the Damascene style developed by the craftsmen of Toledo, Spain. 

El Greco, was born on the island of Crete, off the Greek mainland. He was trained to be a Byzantine Greek icon painter. He later moved to Toledo, Spain, working there for the last 37 years of his life.  His Greek name Doménikos Theotokópoulos was hard to pronounce, so he was nicknamed El Greco (the Greek). He continued to paint elongated figures in the Byzantine style to accentuate the spiritual over the physical, apparent in the figure of the beggar. The viewer looks up at the two figures, and they seem monumental. In the background is the city of Toledo and the River Tagus that El Greco often included in paintings at the time. Also typical of El Greco is the use of intense colors and portrayal of a “moody” sky. This painting is considered one of his greatest.

“St Martin Renounces his Weapons (1322-26)

Martin’s father was a senior military officer; thus, Martin was obligated at age 15 to join the army. Martin’s vision encouraged him in his Christian beliefs, and he was baptized at age 18.  “St Martin Renounces his Weapons” (1322-26), painted by Simone Martini of Siena, is a depiction of the time when Martin left the army. Young Martin stands before the seated Emperor Constantine. Martin holds a cross. Constantine holds a sword. The setting is in a military camp with elegant tents, members of the Imperial Guard in attendance, and horses set in a rocky landscape. 

The painting was commissioned by Robert d’Anjou, King of Naples, to fulfill the last wish of Cardinal Montefiore, who went to Buda, Hungary in 1307 and gained the crown of Hungary for Robert d’Anjou. St Martin was born in Hungary, and Montefiore considered Martin’s aid a significant factor in his success. On returning to his home in Assisi, Montefiore asked that a chapel dedicated to St Martin be built in the church of San Francesco in Assisi. This painting is one of ten depictions of the life of St Martin painted by Martini at Assisi. An early Renaissance artist, Martini and the Sienese artists were beginning to create fully three-dimensional works of art. 

”Saint Martin Healing the Possessed Man” (1630)

Martin declared he was a soldier for Christ and became a monk, holy man, and ultimately the Bishop of Tours in 371. The hagiographer (biographer of lives of saints) Sulpicius Severus, knew Martin personally, and described several of Martin’s miracles: raising the dead, healing the sick, exorcism, and others. 

“St Martin Healing the Possessed Man” (1630) (48”x34”), painted by Jacob Jordaens (1593-1678), the leading Flemish painter after the deaths of Rubens and Van Dyke, could represent a healing of the sick, or perhaps an exorcism. In the classical Baroque style, Jordaens places Martin on a high porch and dressed as the Bishop of Tours. Below him are a number of persons who appear to have come for his help and his blessing. The naked and apparently possessed man writhes on a lower step. An old man and three women of varying ages look in fear at the figure wearing the gold and blue turban, red robe, and leather boots, and drawing his sword. Is he evil, perhaps a devil, or is he the executioner if the possessed man cannot be cured? He is the only figure in foreign dress. The setting is a compilation of gilded capitals, marble columns, and arches. Jordaens leaves the viewer confused about the setting and the cast of characters. He does present a solid and masterful image of St Mark.

‘Saint Martin Healing the Possessed Man” (detail)

During restoration an overpainted coat of arms was discovered at the base of the column. The coat of arms belonged to Antonius de Rorre, a Benedictine abbot, most likely the patron for this painting, the first Jordaens altarpiece. Jordaens would continue to grow as an artist as did his reputation as the successor of Rubens and Van Dyke. 

“The Death of St Martin of Tours” (1490)

St Martin foresaw his death, and it is recorded that he said, “Allow me, my brethren, to look rather towards heaven than upon the earth, that my soul may be directed to take its flight to the Lord to whom it is going.”  “The Death of St Martin of Tours” (1490) was painted by German artist Derik Baegert (1440-c.1515). Although St Martin was born in c. 316 and died on November 8, 397 CE, at the age of eighty-one, he is depicted as a young man. Wearing a red robe, St Martin lies on a coffin covered by woven straw mat. He is mourned by a kneeling angel and four men. One with glasses reads from a scroll, the second reads from the Bible and sprinkles him with holy water, and a third prays. The elderly man kneeling in the front holds a gold candle that symbolically will light St Martins way to Heaven. Outside the windows is a Germanic landscape, and God receives the naked bodies of the faithful. The two-headed devil gesticulates at the foot of the coffin. St Martin reportedly stated, “Why are you standing here, cruel beast? You shall find no cause for grief in me!”  

“Wine on St Martin’s Day” (1566-68)

Martin was called a Saint by popular acclaim in the Fifth and Sixth Centuries, before he was actually canonized. In the Middle Ages, Catholics began a forty-day fast on November 12, the day after St Martin’s Feast Day.  The period of fasting was called Martinmas, the spiritual preparation for Christmas. The harvest season had ended and the slaughtering of livestock, particularly cattle and pigs, for winter began on November 12 in Europe. Sausage and black pudding known as “Pig cheer” were gifts. Two popular dishes were Martinmas beef and Martinmas goose. When Martin tried to hide from those who wanted him to be the Bishop of Tours, he chose a barn housing a flock of geese. Their honking alerted his trackers, and he was forced to take the job. The goose is one of Martin’s symbols. 

In many European countries Martinmas began with the lighting of bonfires or candle-light processions. A member of the community would dress as St Martin and ride on horseback distributing gifts. The ashes from the fires then might be spread on the ground as fertilizer. Another feature of Martinmas was drinking the first wine of the season. “Wine on St Martin’s Day” (1566-68) is by Pieter Brueghel the Elder (c.1525/30-1569), one of the best-known painters of landscape and genre scenes in the Netherlands. It is his largest painting (3’10’’ by 8’10’’). The celebrating villagers are composed in a triangular mass that leads up to a large red barrel of wine. Typical of Brueghel’s paintings, peasants of all ages and types drink, eat, dance, brawl and otherwise celebrate the day. Astride his white horse, St Martin cuts his red cloak in half to give it to two crippled beggars. Brueghel is known for including the poor and disabled in his paintings. The whole scene takes place outside a local village. Houses and a church tower are placed at the right side of the scene. In the distance at the left are a large town with more substantial buildings and towers. They are the homes of the wealthy, but they are not here in this merry scramble of peasants.

St Martin was the patron saint of beggars, wool-weavers, and tailors, to name a few. Although opposed to violence, he was made patron saint of the US Army Quartermaster Corp. It considered Martin to be a role model for soldiers because of his military service, compassion, and selflessness. On February 7, 1997, the Quartermasters Corp established the military Order of St Martin. Armistice Day (now Veterans Day) marks the day of the ceasefire that ended World War I at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month.


Beverly Hall Smith was a professor of art history for 40 years. Since retiring to Chestertown with her husband Kurt in 2014, she has taught art history classes at WC-ALL and the Institute of Adult Learning, Centreville. An artist, she sometimes exhibits work at River Arts. She also paints sets for the Garfield Theater in Chestertown.

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Filed Under: 00 Post to Chestertown Spy, Looking at the Masters, Spy Journal

Looking at the Masters: Charles Burchfield in Autumn

October 23, 2025 by Beverly Hall Smith Leave a Comment

Charles Burchfield (1893-1967), born in Ashtabula, Ohio, has been associated with American Modernism, but this category does not begin to capture the scope of his watercolor paintings. They are in the collections of more than 100 museums in America and Europe. He was a visionary whose love of nature in every season, time of day, and condition inspired his unique paintings. Autumn is upon us, and Burchfield shares his response to the season through his watercolors and journal entries.

“Autumnal Wind and Rain’’ (1915)

Burchfield began his journal in junior high school. He was determined to record all the flowering plants in Salem, Ohio, where he grew up. “Autumnal Wind and Rain’’ (1915) (14’’x20’’) (watercolor) is an early work that concentrates on the shapes of leaves blowing in the wind. White streaks are painted across the leaves. The viewer might think at first the white streaks are a depiction of rain. However, the hazy yellow sky in the background gives no indication of a storm. A simple compositional device, two green spots of paint in the foreground anchor the image, and the red paint at the right also holds the composition steady. The group of light gray towers to the right suggest a town beyond the trees. Another area of light gray painted in the middle ground also suggests the presence of a building with two windows. This early painting is simple, subtle, and effective. In a journal entry dated October 21, 1914, Burchfield commented on the piece: ‘’The third of wonderfully fair October days.  My heart seems ever on the point of bursting with the beauty of this autumn.  It is a golden age. All my thoughts seemed touched with the golden atmosphere.” In 1915, he wrote, “My diary seems to be a journal of the wind, sunshine and sky.” He was “gathering the materials for a lifetime.” 

Burchfield did not write about the influence of other artists on his style; however, in “Autumnal Wind and Rain’’ and other early works there is an oriental tendency. He worked as a guard at the Hatch Galleries in Cleveland in 1914. He saw an exhibition of Chinese scroll paintings. He wrote that he would “execute, in a continuous form, the transitions or sequence of weather events in a day, or several days or seasons.” These he called “all-day sketches” and there is a sense of sequence to the painting of the leaves. 

Burchfield graduated from the Cleveland Institute of Art in 1916, and he received a scholarship to attend the prestigious National Academy of Design in New York City. After just one day in a life drawing class, he left. In his early work, he had developed his own watercolor technique using washes, black ink for opaque areas, and white gouache, not acceptable in traditional watercolor. He used dry-brush watercolor on paper that stoop upright like a canvas on an easel. His unique technique would continue, but his subject matter broadened to include architecture.  Burchfield served in the army, applying his painting skills to camouflage tanks and artificial hills. He was honorably discharged in 1919. 

Burchfield married Berthe Kenreich in 1922. They had five children. The family moved to the rural neighborhood of Gardenville in West Seneca near Buffalo, New York. He was represented in 1928 by the Frank Rehn Gallery in New York City. Edward Hopper, Reginald March, and Bradley Tomlin also were represented by the Gallery. From 1928 onward, he was able to support his family by making art. The Museum of Modern Art exhibited his watercolors in 1935. In that same year his work was included in the International Exhibition of Paintings at the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburgh. Also in 1935, Life Magazine named him one of the ten most important American painters.

“Wind Scattered Leaves” (1944)

As Burchfield’s paintings developed, he added a wider landscape that included nature in all its moods. “Wind Scattered Leaves” (1944) (20”x25’’) is a depiction of autumn. Orange and yellow leaves are spread below the trees. Fields in the distance transition from bright greens to dusty brown and other pale colors. Evergreens provide contrast with the black trunk of a nearby tree in the foreground. Farther off, a dull gray-green and tan bush, still holding its leaves, is a reminder that winter approaches. Some of the black leaves higher in the sky could double as crows. Some of the leaves in the right foreground are painted with sharp brush points to depict the dryness of the season. Burchfield noted, “Most of the leaves are down, dried & pale-yellow brown but here & there some glowing red ones. A puff of wind scattered the leaves along the surface and they caught the sunlight with little halos around them.”

“Wind Scattered Leaves” (1944) (detail)

A look at the application of the paint in “Wind Scattered Leaves” reveals Burchfield’s technique of overlapping brush-strokes of color. The energy can be seen. He was a master of watercolor, considered to be the most difficult of medium. 

“Autumnal Fantasy” (1944)

 

“Autumnal Fantasy” (1944) (37”x53”) displays another aspect of Burchfield’s painting. From the beginning his fascination with nature and with Transcendentalism, developed in New England in c.1836 and promoted by authors Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson, among others. Burchfield held the belief that God and nature are the same, and through intuition, emotion rather than reason, and being in nature the individual can experience the divine.  In the painting, repeating and swirling lines of paint are used the depict earth and water. Tree bark is painted with distinct and detailed patterns. 

The sunlight is painted with a mystical golden glow. The sounds of bugs and birds in the woods are created by rows of black semi-circles coming from various parts of the woods. Burchfield wants viewers to experience all of the senses–sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch–as he does.  At the end of his life, he asked, “Will I ever truly be able to express the elemental power & beauty of God’s woods?”

“Autumn Storm” (1948)

 

In “Autumn Storm” (1948) (26’’x40”), Burchfield captured another of nature’s moods, with dark clouds of a coming storm. The clouds cast the earth beneath them in darkness. The skeletal trees bend in the wind, and the dry grasses seem to quiver as the storm approaches. Burchfield’s journal reports many such experiences: “I spent some time wandering around in the woods trying to find just the right spot to carry out my idea, which has obsessed [me] for some time (the lynx woods giving the feeling of the coming of winter into the glory of autumn).” (October 17,1956) Later, he wrote, “In the north, gigantic thunderstorms were slowly moving eastward, constantly swelling upward and changing form–breath-taking sight, with such pure white tops, and never getting much darker…” (September 1, 1962) 

Burchfield was elected in 1954 to the National Academy of Design in New York. The prestigious honorary association was organized “to promote the fine arts in America through instruction and exhibition.”. He also was elected in 1958 to the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and received a gold medal in an exhibition in 1960. During that period, he began to experience problems with his health: rheumatoid arthritis in 1955 and a heart attack in 1963.

“October Outside” (1963)

Burchfield painted “October Outside” (1963) (39”x27’’) indoors. He continued to paint no matter his health. The viewer sees a well-weathered wood door with several decorative panels and a glass window. The outdoor scene is reflected in the window. The pickets of the fence cast green shadows across the lawn. A green pot is set on a plant stand. The black tree trunk is topped with orange, red, and yellow leaves. Burchfield suffered a fatal heart attack in 1967. He was in the yard of his home, working on a painting to be titled “Early Spring.”

The Charles Burchfield Center at Buffalo State College was dedicated to the artist in 1966. It was renamed The Burchfield Art Center in 1983 with a mission to support various artistic pursuits.  It became the Burchfield Penney Art Center between 1991 and 1994, when Charles Rand Penney donated 1,300 works by New York artists, including 183 by Burchfield. A 29-acre art and nature complex in West Seneca, New York, was named for Burchfield in 1992. 

Near the end of his life, Burchfield expressed the sentiment, “How slowly the ‘secrets’ of my art come to me.” 


Beverly Hall Smith was a professor of art history for 40 years. Since retiring to Chestertown with her husband Kurt in 2014, she has taught art history classes at WC-ALL and the Institute of Adult Learning, Centreville. An artist, she sometimes exhibits work at River Arts. She also paints sets for the Garfield Theater in Chestertown.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Looking at the Masters, Spy Journal

Food Friday: Easy Bake

October 17, 2025 by Jean Sanders Leave a Comment

Now that the threat of the nor-easter has swept past us, and there are cooler, clearer days ahead, we seem able to prepare for autumn. I have a new copse of trees out my window – no more dramatic pecan orchard swinging its loose limbs with abandon. Instead I look out at tall, skinny birches and long-legged long-needled pines. Some of their leaves are turning yellow and gamboge as they glisten and sway with dappling light, shuffling cards and dancing in place. I don’t see many of the opportunistic squirrelly boys we had patrolling the orchard, but this weekend I did see a merry band of bluebirds, joyously celebrating their farewell tour. The changes are slow-moving as we wait for summer to finally depart, and for the cool breezes of fall to waft over our fevered brows.

It’s time to do some easy baking; baking that delivers deliciousness for our minimal investment of time (and skill). It’s time for focaccia. Which is sublime when hot from the oven. It is good warm, it freezes well, and can be eaten for any meal. It is deeply satisfying to bake something warm and oozing olive oil and garlic – without all the bother of sour dough starter maintenance that found its way onto every homebound COVID-19 survivor’s to-do list.

Focaccia can be mixed up after breakfast, and ignored until an hour before dinner. Or you can make the dough after watching the Slow Horses, letting it rise over night, to be put it in the oven the next day. Yet, if you are suddenly seized with the yen for warm, home-baked bread, you can start the dough at lunch and hurry it along through the afternoon, and start baking in time for cocktail hour.
The Practical Kitchen We spent this past week experimenting.

Years ago I found a mix for focaccia at our local IGA market and it was a revelation to someone who had grown up on Pepperidge Farm white bread, Levy’s Jewish rye bread and the occasional loaf of freshly baked Italian bread from the red sauce Italian restaurant my family frequented for celebrations. I wasn’t used to warm and crusty, fresh, yeasty bread. During my European interlude I experienced the standard American food epiphany upon discovering baguettes, brioche, pain perdu, naan, crumpets, scones, hot cross buns, challah, pita, ciabatta, and finally focaccia di Recco col formaggio. Translation: my unformed suburban brain was blown.

Moving to the south brought me a deep appreciation for the simplicity of the biscuit. Upon moving further south (though considering Florida “south” is often debated, volubly) we found a wonderful French bakery, and we worked our way through their inventory of baked daily epi breads, baguettes, pain aux chocolate, croissants, and brioche. Jim and Kim’s bakery on Flagler Street in Stuart was deliciously aromatic, and educational.

This week our first batch of homemade focaccia was wrong in so many ways. The pan I used was too small, so the dough rose to epic, cornbread-y heights. Focaccia is considered a flatbread, or a hearth bread, not a voluminous soufflé. I also relied on the recipe, instead of my experience, and merely coated the pan with olive oil. What I should have done was use a larger, shallower pan, (thank you, Food52 for the sheet pan suggestion) and line it first with parchment paper, and then generously coat the parchment paper with olive oil.

The second batch was better, and more attractive. I dotted the dimpled top with halved cherry tomatoes, and a scattering of Maldon salt, finely minced garlic, and fresh rosemary. You can also consider decorating with cheese, basil, or onion. To bask in the glow of the Mediterranean, you could add lemon slices and green olives. For a more abundantly flavored focaccia you could add Prosciutto, mushrooms, green onions, and arugula. If you’d like something sweeter, for a breakfast dish, consider honey, apples, raisins, raw sugar, orange peel or lemon zest.
I aspire to baking airy, crisp baguettes, and hope in time I will master some of the necessary skills. In the meantime, I am content to have spent a week learning about the simple goodness of focaccia. In these perilous times, it is good to ratchet down some of the anxiety with soothing oozy, warm, crunchy, garlicky goodness. And with the stash in the freezer, it is always close at hand.

Taste Atlas

Bon Appétit

Food52

These are easy – you can start after lunch and have tasty, fresh, piping hot focaccia for dinner. My favorite part was poking the little dimples into the dough after it has risen. And then artfully scattering the rosemary leaves, which I picked from the plant running wild in the container garden. (The rosemary plant has thrived outside even through the past two winters. It is an amazement to me.)

I just loved baking a version of focaccia in our trustworthy cast iron skillet. I’m adding it to the list of good foods that can be prepared in just one pan – always a plus in my book because most of the time I am the designated dishwasher. It was crispy and crusty and tasted divine dipped in a small saucer of olive oil and garlic, salt, pepper, dried oregano and basil. It is practically a meal unto itself. Add salad and wine, and if you are being really pesky, a protein. Mr. Sanders and I gobbled up half a pan, which left half a pan to go in the freezer, that we hauled out delightedly a few nights later. Food in the freezer = money in the bank and less prep time. More time to paint the back porch, or weed the lettuce bed, or watch the blue birds soar through the shimmering, pointillistic autumn leaves.

Skillet focaccia

“The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight…”
—M.F.K. Fisher


Jean Dixon Sanders has been a painter and graphic designer for the past thirty years. A graduate of Washington College, where she majored in fine art, Jean started her work in design with the Literary House lecture program. The illustrations she contributes to the Spies are done with watercolor, colored pencil and ink.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider, Food Friday, Spy Journal

As the Supreme Court Term Begins… Some Reflections by Margaret Andersen

October 3, 2025 by Opinion Leave a Comment

As the U.S. Supreme Court begins its new term and at a time when public confidence in all national institutions, including the Supreme Court, is at an all-time low, I am heartened by remembering how one letter, sent long ago to Associate Justice Harry Blackmun, can remind us of the heart beneath a justice’s robe, even at a time when a justice was under vicious attack by political opponents. I am also reminded of what it can mean to bring joy to a justice’s chamber. And I am thinking about my long-gone dogs. 

I named my two dogs, who were abandoned as puppies by their owners, after Justices Thurgood Marshall and Harry Blackmun, two giants in judicial history. Thurgood Marshall, the first African American to serve on the Court (appointed in 1967), was touted for his long-standing commitment to civil rights, including early cases that prohibited racially restrictive real estate covenants. In another of his decisions, he invalidated the white primary, long a method by which southern Democrats maintained their political power. He is, though, best known for arguing the landmark case Brown vs the Board of Education before the Supreme Court in 1954.  A staunch advocate for people who had too long been denied legal protections in the United States, Marshall retired from the Court in 1991 and died in 1993. 

Likewise, Associate Justice Harry A. Blackmun left an indelible mark on U.S. judicial history. Appointed to the Court by President Richard Nixon in 1970, Blackmun’s early decisions on the Court were most aligned with conservative justices. Over time, however, his decisions became more in tune with those of more liberal justices. He was passionate in this support for abortion rights and defended affirmative action. Writing in the 1978 Regents of the University of California vs. Bakke decision, allowing some consideration of race in university admissions but disallowing racial quotas, Blackmun wrote, “In order to get beyond racism, we must first take account of race. There is no other way. And in order to treat some persons equally, we much treat them differently.” 

Blackmun’s support for abortion rights was unyielding. The very week we adopted our dogs (in 1989), Blackmun wrote a scathing dissent on the case Webster v. Reproductive Health Services, the first Supreme Court case to chip away at the constitutional right to abortion established in Roe v. Wade. In his dissent, Blackmun wrote, “For today, the women of this Nation still retain the liberty to control their destinies. But the signs are evident and very ominous, and a chill wind blows.” 

How prescient that dissent—one of the reasons I so admired Justice Blackmun. How did two photos of my dogs ended up in Harry Blackmun’s papers housed in the Library of Congress? 

Very few dogs find themselves memorialized in the Library of Congress. Dogs included famous people, such as TV host Ed Sullivan, singer Billie Holiday, actress Joan Caulfield, and actor Jimmy Durante mostly own those. Also included are some photos of national dog show winners. The Library of Congress is the largest library in the world, housing documents that tell the history of the United States by documenting and preserving some of the nation’s most important records. These are treasured archives, a repository of national civilization and creativity.

The Library of Congress hardly seems a place where ordinary neighborhood dogs would be seen. I am not a celebrity, nor a Washington insider, nor have my dogs ever been in a competitive dog show. Yet, sure enough, my dogs’ photographs are included in the hundreds of boxes that archive the work of Supreme Court Associate Justice Harry A. Blackmun: Box 1445, Folio #9.

When my husband and I took in these puppies, the house next door to us was a concrete block shack, owned by a notoriously obnoxious absentee landlord. The tenants, seemingly living on the margins of poverty, absconded in the middle of the night, probably owing back rent and fearful of the landlord’s well-known violent temper. Left behind were the mother dog and four newborn puppies. A reclusive neighbor who lived in the woods across the street took in the mother dog, but the puppies were left to fend for themselves. One poor pup was hit and killed in the road. A second pup was adopted by a neighbor’s friend. Left behind were two little black lab puppies.

Even before the tenants fled, the two puppies had been frisky, though largely ignored by their owners. The puppies liked scampering around on the riverbank, occasionally falling into the Chesapeake Bay where our house is located. My husband would jump in our rowboat, row to their rescue, drag them out of the water, and bring them back home. Later, they never seemed to like water—odd since they were mostly black labs, though not purebreds.  

When the dogs’ owners fled, we took in the two puppies, thinking we could find a home for them. We already had two cats and never intended to add dogs to our household, certainly not two of them! We tried to find people who would adopt the two puppies, preferably as a pair because they were brothers. We considered posting a “free puppies” sign at the local market but rejected that plan when we heard that puppies so publicly advertised might be picked up by an unscrupulous puppy mill operator. 

Once they were living on our porch, we became very attached. After a few weeks of trying to find a new home for them, we relented and decided to keep them. Like other dog owners, we tried to find fitting names for our newly adopted pups. It was 1989. The nation was emerging from the Reagan years—a time when many hard-fought civil rights were being retracted. George Bush Sr. was the President. Roe v. Wade had established the constitutional right to reproductive freedom in 1973, but the movement to overturn Roe was simmering. As someone who was teaching university courses on racial and gender inequality, I was keenly aware of the backlash against women and people of color that our nation was facing. 

I told my husband that, given the times, we had to name these two dogs for men who had done something good for women. I had long admired U.S. Supreme Court Associate Justice Thurgood Marshall, then retired from the Court. Our two dogs became Blackmun and Marshall.

I often thought about writing to the two justices about their namesakes, but life was busy and I didn’t do it until 1994. Moved by Blackmun’s announcement of his pending retirement, my husband and I drafted a letter to Justice Blackmun explaining why our dogs bore his and Thurgood Marshall’s names. The letter we sent, signed by my husband, included two pictures of the dogs together on our front lawn.

Our letter said:  

I didn’t really expect a response, but only a few days later, and much to our surprise, a letter on embossed Supreme Court stationery showed up in our mail! Written with wry humor, the grace of a gentleman, and with a subtle reminder of his positions on conception, Blackmun’s letter to us was hand-signed. 

We cherished that letter and our two amazing dogs, but life went on. Then, in 2004, things took an unexpected turn.

In honor of the fiftieth anniversary of the Brown v. Board court decision, the University of Illinois College of Law, like many academic institutions that year, sponsored a symposium about the impact of the Brown decision and invited me to present a paper. I gladly accepted and wrote an article on the implications of the Brown decision for different groups. I had presented many conference papers prior to this commemorative event. Still, I had never spoken at a law school or to a room packed with mostly law professors and other legal scholars. I am a sociologist. That is my usual audience. I was nervous and felt very out of my element. I knew no one on the featured panels and hardly anyone in the audience. But I knew my paper was solid, despite my anxiety about its reception. 

As I wrapped up my presentation, I thought it had gone well and considered adding that I had named my two dogs for the two justices I so admired. It seemed a little corny to bring up my dogs in such an esteemed and unaccustomed, for me, place, but oh well…I did it. The audience seemed to appreciate it. I sat down to a round of applause.

The next speaker was introduced as a law professor at Duke University. When she began her remarks, she expressed her appreciation for being with known colleagues and meeting new people…a common way speakers warm up their presentations. She then said, “And I am especially pleased to meet someone I have a special connection to…Maggie Andersen.” I was floored! I had never met her, did not follow her field of legal study, and could not imagine how she thought she knew me. She continued, “Years ago I was a clerk in Justice Blackmun’s chambers. One morning, he called all his clerks together because he had received a letter from ‘some professor in Maryland,’ and he wanted to share it with us. Treating his clerks to breakfast, he read the letter out loud.” She then said, directly to me, “You will never know how happy your letter made him!” She proceeded to deliver a very good analysis of the impact of the Brown decision on disability rights. 

As we sat at the symposium on Brown, the release of Blackmun’s papers to the Library of Congress was very much in the news. Blackmun had died five years earlier (in 1999) but had arranged for a quick release of his papers to the Library of Congress. His papers were released only five years after his death, which is unusual because most justices do not have their papers released until 50 years after their death. 

Because of the prominence of Blackmun’s papers in the daily news, I asked the former clerk if she thought our letter—and the photos of our dogs—would then be in the Library of Congress. She said, “No doubt! That’s how important your letter was to him.” As the session ended, she said she wanted to rush right out and call Justice Blackmun’s former secretary because she knew the secretary would be excited to know she had met me! 

I later learned, by reading Juan Williams’ excellent biography of Justice Blackmun, that at the time Blackmun received our letter, he was besieged by hate mail from those who strenuously objected to his more progressive opinions—particularly his defense of Roe. Our letter was a rare praise song!

Now, even more years later and with both dogs long gone, Blackmun’s fears have come to pass. More than a chill wind blows today. There is a full-blown hurricane toppling women’s rights, smashing civil rights, and crushing institutions themselves. The assault on reproductive rights is no longer directed at one man, but, rather, at entire institutions. Confidence in the judicial system, including the Supreme Court, has hit an all-time low, as has public faith in all national institutions. Even when under attack by the right, probably overwhelmed by case work, and fearful for women in America, Harry Blackmun found the time to pen a letter, honoring not only our dogs, but also the best of America: national institutions that adhere to American values, the cherished connection between public servants and citizens, and the protection of civil and constitutional rights of all Americans. How I long for the values and graciousness that Justice Blackmun demonstrated. My next dog, if a female, will be named Sonia. Or, should we acquire a litter, maybe Sonia, Ketanji, and Elena—women who are speaking truth to power. I miss Blackmun’s wisdom on the Court, and I miss my dogs.

With thanks to Patrick Kirwin, Manuscript Reference Librarian, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress and to Connie Cartledge, Senior Archivist, Library of Congress

Dr. Margaret L. Andersen is the Elizabeth and Edward Rosenberg Professor Emerita and Founder and Executive Director of the President’s Diversity Initiative at the University of Delaware, who resides in Oxford.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Opinion, Spy Journal

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