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.

                                                   Truckin'  

                                                                 The Grateful Dead

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

*

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?

The Rainy Day - H.W. Longfellow

Be still, sad heart!

. . . and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

 Thy fate is the common fate of all,

 Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

By the Light of the Perigee Moon

June 23, 2013

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.

 The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor.

   The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.

             He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.

He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;
   And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon.

       "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I am after a prize tonight,

        But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;

        Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,

        Then look for me by moonlight, 

                          Watch for me by moonlight,

         I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

Because of its elliptical orbit, the moon was at its closest to us on June 23, 2013.

 It appeared 13% bigger and 30% brighter.

English Poets in The Glen

Give me a thrill, says the knitter,

Give me a kick;

I don't care how you succeed, or

What colours you pick. 

Why should I let the toad work 

Squat on my life?

Can't I use my knit as a pitchfork

And drive the brute off?

The village inn, the dear old inn,

So ancient, clean and free from sin.

. . .  yet,

Stands the church clock at ten to three?

And is there honey still for tea?

At last my dear fuel of life is heaped into my soul 

And with some luck I'll eat the whole thing whole.