Collectors' Items

COLLECTORS' ITEMS

Then Now

Far Hills Country Day School 90th Anniversary

Front cover top photo: found in archives

Front cover bottom photo: US Photography Club

This publication is a representation of the young writers, photographers, and artists of Far Hills Country Day School.

Editors and Copy Editors: Christina Agathis, Isabelle Baird, Gabbie Bilenker, Nate Lawton, Margot Pettersen, Alyssa Roberts, and Samantha Wood.

Authors: 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th grade students as credited throughout the magazine Faculty Advisors: Hope Svendsen, Jill Tuazon, and Natalie Young

Far Hills Country Day School - Upper School students submit writing, art, and photography throughout the school year. The magazine is under the leadership of student editors (as listed above for 2020). Student editors select pieces for publication, edit material, and create the layout of the magazine. Faculty advisors provide support and advice. Š 2020 by Far Hills Country Day School, 697 US-202., Far Hills, NJ 07931 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied in any manner without permission. All images are Š the artists, reproduced with the permission of the artists.

Efforts have been made to contact copyright holders and to ensure that that all work presented is correct.

Table of Contents 1 - Letter from the Editors 3 - Reflections by M. Pettersen Reflection by G. Schmidt 4 - The Dark Ocean by H. Rooze, The Sea Painter by I. Baird Waves by A. Baird 5 - A Secret Place by K. Whitman, Inside a Secret Place by M. Pettersen Welcome Home and Upper School by US Photography Club 6 - Mighty Flashlight by E. Gomez Flashlight by 6th grade student 7 - The Canyon by 7th grade student Canyon 1, 2, 3 by G. Bilenker 8 - Ode to Kevin by S. Wood Kevin by S. Wood 9 - Repeating Rock Cycle by S. Wagar 10 - The Cloud by N. Lawton Clouds by US Photography Club 11 - The Buoy and the Lamp Post by A. Roberts Lamp by Charlie Grippo 12 - Morning Wing by M. Pettersen Dragon by M. Pettersen 13 - Dragon by C. Hao 14 - Forest Home by W. Merton, The Sky by C. Merton, In the forest by J. Johnson The Fields by US Photography Club 15 - Imagine by G. Schmidt Snow globe by I. Baird 16 - No identity by H. Scott 17 - Star Cluster by D. Kibler Stars by 6th grade student 18 - Midnight Rain by J. Leung, Night time by C. Forbes Rain by 6th grade student 19 - Stand Strong by L. Evans Strength by N. Panico 20 - Autumn by M. Pettersen Evening Color by G. Bilenker 21 - The Alpha Wolf by A. Mishima, Sun Shine by S. Shah Wolves by M. Pettersen, Ripple by I. Baird 22 - A Changing World by E. Johnson Chairs by C. Grippo 23 - Winter by A. Roberts Ice Road by G. Schmidt, Winter thaw by K. McCaffery

Dear Readers, We’d like to thank everybody who submitted the amazing art and writing that you will see in the 2020 Collectors’ Items issue. Thank you to Mrs. Zaiser, Mr. Thompson, Ms. Svendsen, Mrs. Young, and Mrs. Tuazon for all of your support. It’s thanks to you that we made this publication happen.

Even though COVID-19 has been an obstacle for us, our team has put a significant amount of time and effort into making this issue of Collectors’ Items possible.

Collectors’ Items is a Far Hills tradition, exhibiting the talents of the students for 28+ years. In celebration of the 90th anniversary of the school, several of the items in this issue were taken from the archives to represent our enduring legacy. Some pages have work by alumni and current students to demonstrate the evolution of Far Hills Country Day School and to acknowledge our Far Hills alumni. We hope that you will enjoy this year’s Collectors’ Items publication and that it may entertain you and your families from home.

Sincerely, The Collectors' Items 2020 Editors

,

Alyssa Roberts '20

Christina Agathis '21

Margot Pettersen '20

Gabbie Bilenker '21

Samantha Wood '21

Isabelle Baird '20

Nate Lawton '22

1

Reflections

By Margot Pettersen '20 Time falls like rain Weaving us in a cocoon of soft gray mist And rainbow sprayed memories Scattered jewels, shining through the downpour.

We are drenched, soaked to the bone Standing still, as it moves all around us Looking down at our reflections in the pools at our feet Our eyes stare back at us.

Or are we the reflections?

Parallel images of an older time Caught forever in the raging torrent.

Transfixed between past and future We are racing forward Falling back Or is it all the same?

Timelines, after all, move in both directions.

Reflection - Gabby Schmidt '21

3

The Dark Ocean

By Heather Rooze '90 The moon summons me from my safe cradle, I am lifted toward the field of glass.

The only thing separating me, From the soft ocean of light.

I strain to listen to nothing, And that is what I hear, But then soft music from a cricket, Like a lyre in the breeze, breaks the silence.

Shafts of creamy light draft through my room, Like the sun through an aqua ocean.

The cream colored light begins to disappear, And is replaced by blue, then black.

This blackness envelopes me, And my bindings are broken...

The Sea's Painter

by Isabelle Baird '20 For days and nights, Weeks and months, He had painted the waves of the sea.

Upon the cliff overlooking the waves, he turned the paint From just blues and greens, Whites and oranges, Blacks and reds and yellows, Into a masterpiece.

For he made the still painting into a musical, The static into a frolic, The lifeless into the most living creature to exist.

It was as if he had taken the sea itself, And placed it onto the canvas.

For his pieces were so real, People came from all over to see them.

He painted the sunset on the sea, The crashes of thunder echoing off of the ocean, Just him and his pieces, hidden under a tarp.

He did not care if it was windy, rainy, sunny, Or even when it snowed.

For he loved the ocean too much to stop.

As he got older, He moved closer to the ocean, For it was getting harder to see the sea.

He inched towards the cliff's edge, Just for a better view.

Years of his life spent on the masterpiece of the sea, The master of his life.

He moved closer and closer, until one day he fell.

He braced for the waves to hit him, To take his breath away, To become one with the sea.

But, he never did.

The waves caught him, They could not take the life of the one, Who had painted them so beautifully, The old man was speechless,

4

Waves - photograph by Abigail Baird '20

Welcome Home - US Photography Club

A Secret Place

By Kate Whitman '92 I feel like a gun opening fire on a hawk, Shooting it down to the ocean below.

Before it hits the ocean, a secret wind whisks it away To some unknown place ... a castle on the moon, Always glowing with light.

From the outside it looks peaceful, But from the inside, who knows?

Inside a secret place

By Margot Pettersen '20 I feel like a word entering the brain and the soul Rending wounds in something other than flesh Before fragments of iridescent thought swirl disturbed To some shadowed place to mask the truth untold In heaps of memories Already in a short instant Everything changes, with a word.

I feel like a tree inching to meet the atmosphere Growing ever upwards towards the sunlight Before the people come, with their progress, saws and sorrows To the emerald place the still beating nature's heart Always teeming with life And I fall, crashing to the earth But just for an instant, I float

Upper School - US Photography Club 5

Flashlight - pen drawing by 6th grade student

Mighty Flashlight

By Emilio Gomez '23 The mighty light shimmers as the darkness and its servants quiver.

The power emerges from the three sacred bulbs As the pure circle emerges on the target.

The flashlight stands with courage Eveready to defend.

It is brighter than twenty four karat gold in the hot summer sun and prepared to help in any way.

Though it is not luxurious, It is satiated.

Yet it is wasted.

It can never serve its purpose.

It is wasted in a dark drawer where it can never feel the sweet light of the sun on its golden skin.

And the flashlight that was once as golden as gold, Will feel no happiness as it Becomes darker than midnight.

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Sinking to grief it will be no more.

Forever forgotten in the everlasting darkness.

Canyon 1, 2, 3 - photography by Gabbie Bilenker '21

The Canyon By 7th grade student The blue sky filled with small birds Floats on top of one of the wonders of the world The Colorado River gently flows through As people from all around the world look at the beauty One by one, the people shuffle through Trying to see the rafters And the hikers When the day turns to night All of the people leave And the animals come out To feast on scraps And the next day When the sun rises The process starts all over Again and again

7

Ode to Kevin

By Samantha Wood '21

My chameleon is like a light green frog, All skinny with little legs, Rough textured on his sides like a fish.

His tongue is longer than he is, A mini-giraffe of sorts With spikes that go up when he’s afraid or mad. .

At first he was as small as my pinky finger, Now as big as my hand, When mad he changes To a brown color.

He turns blue when he is happy, From climbing on different things, Even though he’s

The clumsiest chameleon

Kevin - photograph by Samantha Wood '21 8

Repeating Rock Cycle

By Samantha Wagar '21

9

The Cloud

By Nate Lawton '22 The life of a cloud is a hard one.

Seeing friends come and go.

One day a water droplet rises up to meet me.

The next day he falls back out again.

Sometimes I cry and lose all my other friends Which makes me stop, but makes me even sadder inside.

Yes, the life of a cloud is a hard one.

People always not liking you; Commenting how pleasant it is when you’re not here.

Being all grumpy when you are.

Still, the life of a cloud is a hard one, Floating in the sky.

Smiling when good things happen.

Frowning when bad things come.

And drifting in the sky for eternity.

The life of a cloud is a hard one.

Clouds - US Photography Club 10

Lamp - photograph by Charlie Grippo '20

The Buoy and the Lamp Post

By Alyssa Roberts '20 Alone, Cold, Swaying, The water rushes underneath.

A soft breeze, A wash of colors transforms the sky, From noon to night.

Then, A lamp post.

Alone, Warm, Still, The wind quietly blowing past.

A soft breeze, The sky changing above.

Then, A buoy.

11

Morning Wind

By Margot Pettersen '20 A bird is calling in the meadow. The liquid sound is reflected in the lavender dew on the grass, each drop containing a slightly different hue of sunrise. Last night's clouds are still scudding across the horizon. The colors I see in them are stunning. I see pearls and flames, rose petals and blood, cool, slate shadows and mercury highlights. It seems absurd that condensed water and a little light can make such beauty. I normally hate getting up at dawn, but the colors I see make it worth every minute of my missed sleep.

I walk to the edge of a small hill, soaking my soft boots. I'll regret that later. They never dry properly.

Concentrating, I can feel the ebb and flow of the energy around me, the low string-like humming of the grass around me as it pushes towards the dawn, the air displaced by the wingbeats of the moths, finding shelter for the day, the watery heat of the rising sun, and the retreating cool of the night. I take this energy, mold it, shape it, and fold it into my own fiery, warm and lively energy, using it to change my physical form.

I push feathers the color of steel, the color of snow, of cream and of a rushing stream out of my skin, reveling in the free sensation of changing form. I lengthen my arms into a shape to support my shrinking body in the air. My mouth and nose join to form a horny, blue gray beak. In less than a minute I've become a gyr falcon. This is a practical shape because it's good for swift flying. And yes, I admit, I like it because the cloud colored feathers look dramatic.

My brother always laughs at my slightly theatrical flair to magic. He likes his subtle, but powerful, like a roaring river.

Mine is more like fire, wild and dancing, always ready to come out and make a spectacle of itself.

Dragon - pencil drawing by Margot Pettersen '20 12

I launch myself into the air, using thermals from the rising sun to gain height. A cold wind wraps through my primary feathers like ribbon, and the land is spread out below like a crumpled blanket. I dive and whirl in the sunrise, navigating the winds, using them to lever myself upwards or downwards, grasping and riding them with my wings. I love flying at sunrise and sunset because I get to watch the day changed from high up, and not have to worry about other people's judgement. I then gather my energy together, and slide into another form, just for the feeling of it, my wings growing, shedding their feathers, my tail lengthening and my down hardening into scales.

Without missing a wingbeat I am a large, peridot dragon, spinning loops in the sky. I exhale some of my energy in a spray of pumpkin flame, tuning and ducking to spiral through it.

Then I fall into the smaller form of a swift, agilely chasing the flitting insects through the light.

The sun is almost up. I land in the form of a raven, spreading my obsidian wings and tail to break against the pushing air, and sinking to the ground. When the grass is under my feet again, I sigh, collect myself, and shiver my form back to normal. I lie on my back to watch the sky, and for a moment am at peace. Then, because the sun is up, and my family will be wondering where I am, I walk back across the meadow, grounded once more.

Dragon - pencil drawing by Casper Hao '23 13

Forest home

By Wilder Merton '22

The Sky

By Chris Merton '82

In the forest

By Jazz Johnson '92

Coming home to the forest where thoughts and stress come to rest

I laid me down upon the ground And saw the clouds move slowly by

I slowly walk down the narrow path that marks the middle of Turkey Coop farm drive Gently the sun falls behind the rolling hills I stop to admire the tall trees as their long branches sweep Over top, sheltering the dry pine needles I lay down on a soft piece of grass and look up at the sky; the forest sounds blend softly into my mind as a sliver of the setting sun slowly vanishes and takes away a part of me as it disappears.

I am almost afraid to leave.

No other place to go but a nice warm forest home Come home to the forest to have trees as friends to hear the smooth breeze running through the leaves To wander off the trails and tighten your sails Begin the journey to find where you belong The forest awaits, come to where the forest feels like home.

As I watched the fading sun sink slowly in the sky I saw the puffs of fluffy clouds floating on, and on, and on I close my eyes the dreams to come my happy day of work was done

The Fields - US Photography Club 14

Imagine

By Gabby Schmidt '21 The snow flutters around searching for a place to land.

Then the globe shakes violently and all comes crashing down.

Round and round you're shaken The snow is overwhelming defeating me every sound please giant human can you just drop me and smash me to the ground?

Snow globe - photograph by Isabelle Baird '20 15

No Identity

By Henry Scott '21

16

Star Cluster

By Daphne Kibler '23 She is like a star cluster, bright and far from other civilizations.

She is always alone when at work with no one to collaborate with.

Being unknown and unexplored, her surroundings are vacuous and empty.

It is hard not to achieve greatness and the curiosity of others.

She is always seen from a distance with few interested in her.

Her friends are a few of the tiny stars that create her existence.

Her purpose?

To create curiosity.

To care for others.

To make others content.

To create more stars to brighten the world.

She is, afterall, a star cluster.

Stars - pen drawing by 6th grade student

17

The Midnight Rain

By Jayden Leung '23 Riding through the darkness, Nowhere to be seen.

The wind rushes against my face, But the human is too keen.

To be destroyed by darkness and despair, Against my face it leans.

I know that it is far away, My house, my home, my family.

It is the only one, My beloved sanctuary.

But I must not give up, I must not let it prevail.

I must just get through it, Before it turns into hail.

But oh!

Oh, oh, oh!

I can see it now!

My beloved house.

Through all the wind and rain, Through all the windows stained, Through all obstacles of the world, Through everything to my house I whirled.

Night Time

By Charlotte Forbes '90 When the moon comes up, silence pierces the night Like a sharp arrow from an Indian's bow, A blackness smothers the earth, So thick it could be sliced like a cake on Wednesday. darkness she created, the night's time of day.

The clock opens its mouth to protest the shadown falling slowly on its face, "Time musn't be covered," he cried, But the shadown only laughed a mysterious laugh and the moon shone on a bush nearby.

A mysterious figure all clothes in black said "Stop!," To the stars that were twinkling too hard and disturbing her darkness the darkness she created, the Night's time of day.

Ah.The Midnight Rain.

So beautiful, So mystical, So sophisticated, Like the human brain.

But still, It is miles and miles away.

The Midnight Rain. nocte pluvia.

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Rain - pen drawing by 6th grade student

Stand Strong

By Luke Evans '20 A day such as this; not a day but a night. Each day in the dark, each night suffered from fear and agonizing memories. Memories of a time when we were free. Free from its control' its inescapable clutches. Those of which spawned the Administrator, its main antagonist. An administrator who would create a foundation; of those who believed there was hope in our dark world, to overcome The Creator and its malicious army. An army of which each carries a piece of information, linked together to reveal The Creator's whereabouts. The Creator's only mistake is this; his henchmen are a spawn of itself, each taking one single aspect of its character. Some helpful and well cooperative, and others with evil and malicious intent. Moreover, as our world works, darkness will always overcome the light, because we all have that glimmering evil within us, but few wish to find the light.

Pandora's box. How everything started. Verified by the stories of one creature, a creature whose identity is classified far beyond my clearance. It was necessary, only this one time, to swipe the access card of 05-5 "Manifest Destiny." What I learned from this unidentified creature, needless to say, was highly redacted, even beyond The Administrator's access level. The information I acquired from this unknown creature is classified up to the United States Secretary of Homeland Security, and the United Kingdom's Ambassador to the United States. What I learned that day would forever change the world as we know it.

This recording is not my way of passing information, as my own body does not allow me, for The Creator's endless evil infects it. A kind of darkness that gets everywhere, polluting and hypnotizing all in its path. It is radioactive. All I can say is -ouch-! I mean to say that The Admi -ouch-! THE ADMINISTRATOR IS EV - OUCH-! -AHHH-! Ah, as I was saying, The Administrator is...everyone's role model. Now, I must end my log here. Good day to you, and your constituents. The Creator's grasp is inescapable. All you must do is stand strong...

Strength - pencil drawing by Nicholas Panico '21

19

Autumn

By Margot Pettersen '20 When the branches are dipped in rubies and gold And the frost's children come out to play and summer grows weary and old Her green tresses tangled and gray When the lark's call rings through the starlight Telling others it's time to move on and the fireflies no longer shine through the night and the flowers no longer open at dawn When the sweet musty scent of dead leaves Awakens long dormant remembering and the golden grass shines in sunlit sheaves and the wind whispers about faraway things When winter hides in the shadows though her icy breath gives her away and the deer bound through the dew-wet meadows scattering drops of rainbow in their wake When the cold lakes steam like dragons singing black eyes with wind-tangled lashes of grass and we bring home apples in wagons sweet as sun, crisp as ice, bright as brass When I sit on the front porch and see the honking geese soar over head lined up in an elegant mist fringed then I go to drink warm tea in bed

20

Evening Color - photography by Gabbie Bilenker '21

The Alpha Wolf

By Audrey Mishima '23 She would lead her family and friends through life, and through hard times, like it was with a wolf and its pack.

She would protect her family and friends with her life.

When attacked she leaps with her thick coat and protects those close to her.

She leaves her family and friends, but never abandons them. Like a wolf, she always comes back to them, those that are her pack.

Wolves - painting by Margot Pettersen '20

Sun Shine

By Suri Shah '23 The sun pushes and pushes to break through thunder, lightning, and rain.

She works and works to leave no one lonely.

She tries her best to brighten everyone's day.

She directs people where to go by her magnificent rays.

The warmth of the sun can melt the ice in your heart.

The glow of the sun is so powerful that it can make someone miserable become joyful.

Ripple - photograph by Isabelle Baird '20

21

A Changing World

By Elaine Johnson '67 Quiet indoors, dark outside With rain tumbling from the sky, A time to think and ponder, And a time to clear the dusty far corner.

Rain falls crazily down from nowhere And quenches the deep thirst roots of the earth, A moment to remember lost loved ones, And dream of the future to come; Children squirm and wiggle for freedom And wish for warm sunshine and spring, I wonder how it would be without this rain, And think of a deadly brown world; If all the days the sun did shine And all the mornings were clear, No pleasure would we find from those, And dread each awaking morn; So I think how lucky we all are And fortunate for each different day, Through my ears ring my own worded phrase; The greater pleasure the greater pain.

22

Chairs -Â photograph by Charlie Grippo '20

Winter

By Alyssa Roberts '20 Cold, It bites at my exposed skin Bundled to only see my face Warmth, It is what the cabin on the snow-covered hill promises Eyes closed; my senses take over The smell of pine brings me to the woods The sound of snow falling from the branches

Ice road - photograph by Gabby Schmidt '21

The feeling of snow falling in my gloved hand The taste of water in my mouth In the woods I am lost Lost from the warmth and found in the cold I am longing for the cabin I open my eyes to find warmth I open my eyes to find the cabin on a snow-covered hill

Winter thaw - photograph by Kate McCaffery '21

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Far Hills Country Day School 697 US-202Â Far Hills, NJ 07931