Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Found Memory Card 2008-2009

 Scotland and England . . . 
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,

And seen St. Margaret's cliffs unfold.

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

 And ever did I breathe their pure serene.

Lines pinched from
On First Looking into Chapman's Homer
John Keats

. . .  and puppy pictures
Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all 
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. *

                                                            * Ode on a Grecian Urn
                                                                               John Keats

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Cry Havoc

. . . the wood's in trouble;

The gale, it plies the saplings double.

'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger,

'Tis the old wind in its anger.

And then it threshed another wood

Where Uricon the city once stood.

The wind flew through the woods in riot . . .

The trees of home now lie quiet. *

It was a summer's evening gloomy, close and stale when destiny's dice box dumped havoc on the heart of old Georgetown. With irresistible conviction the wind clasped it keenly with crooked hands.

5:50 PM Friday July 19, 2013

* with arboreal assistance from 
Wenlock Edge by A.E. Housman

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Before Ebooks

How many of us have saved fragments from our childhoods?

I have 17 editions of Best in Children's Books.

 When they arrived monthly in the mail, my joy was boundless.

Each book contained a classic . . .
 a bit of non-fiction . . . 

a story from another country . . . 

(as my hubby likes to say) a bit of American propaganda . . . 

and, too often, a Babar story.

Soon to be famous people showed up . . .

and a pictorial visit to a foreign place finished each book.

Oh, and did I say American culture was well covered? 

Abridged versions made their appearances . . . 

as did seasonal music.

Often there were things to make . . .

and sometimes a bit of Christian guidance thrown in.

The interval between deliveries seemed a lifetime.
The interval between then and now is a lifetime.

Sometimes the light's all shining on me.
Other times I can barely see.
Lately, it's occurred to me,
What a long strange trip it's been.

                                                                 The Grateful Dead

Friday, July 12, 2013

Rowan #54

This is July of the bountiful heat,

Month of wild roses, and berries, and wheat.

And somewhere all the wondering birds have flown;
And the brown breath of Autumn chills the flowers.
But all is bright awaiting Rowan.

 For Rowan the melancholy days have come. . .

 . . . to brace against wailing winds,

and naked woods,

and meadows brown and sere.

A most anticipated time of year.

In the midst of a heatwave Rowan's autumn/winter pattern book arrived.
Knitters rejoice!

Apologies to poets A.D. Watson, Francis Letwidge and William Cullen Bryant

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Goblin Garden

Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
 With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger tips,

Beside the brook,

along the glen,

 I heard the tramp of goblin men.

They said, " Let us get home before the night grows dark;
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather."

But laughed every goblin
When they spied me peeping:

Came towards me mobbling,

Flying, running, leaping,

Puffing and blowing,

Chuckling, clapping and crowing!

For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin men.

With apologies to Christina Rossetti's Goblin Market
And so before the next rainfall,
How many goblins have you seen in all?