Day 345 – Sugar Beer

The glass is scattered on Harrison Street and I almost passed it by; it is a good thing I look up, down and all around before I move on.

Today’s post brought to you by the folks over at Sugar Beer:

The Lost Drink by Andrew Barton Paterson

I had spent the night in the watch-house —
My head was the size of three —
So I went and asked the chemist
To fix up a drink for me;
And he brewed it from various bottles
With soda and plenty of ice,
With something that smelt like lemon,
And something that seemed like spice.
It fell on my parching palate
Like the dew on a sunbaked plain,
And my system began to flourish
Like the grass in the soft spring rain;
It wandered throughout my being,
Suffusing my soul with rest,
And I felt as I “scoffed” that liquid
That life had a new-found zest.I have been on the razzle-dazzle
Full many a time since then
But I never could get the chemist
To brew me that drink again.
He says he’s forgotten the notion —
‘Twas only by chance it came —
He’s tried me with various liquids
But oh! they are not the same.

We have sought, but we sought it vainly,
That one lost drink divine;
We have sampled his various bottles,
But somehow they don’t combine:
Yet I know when I cross the River
And stand on the Golden Shore
I shall meet with an angel chemist
To brew me that drink once more.

•••
Perfect weather, a nice breeze, an hour or so on my hands in my camera’s favorite little town.  And I was left with 6 photos I really liked and since I am THISCLOSE to being finished with my 365, I decided not to limit myself to one photo choice per day.  Sugar Beer was actually not my favorite, but I liked the idea of giving this post the title Sugar Beer, so there you go.  I think Little Beard is the one I like the best, and oh!  You could smell the fragrance all of the way down the street as it wafted along with the breeze.

At the corner of Morton Street, the scent drifts on the breeze, the colors glow and I am in love.

They will shoot at anything, won’t they?

Closed for a long time, this place is starting to fade.
Allis Chalmers tractor, bright – it caught my eye in an instant as it graced a storefront.

Say Ahhh…

Day 199 – Open Open Open

Open Open Open

Day 199

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 13: The half-shut doors through which we heard that music by Conrad Aiken

The half-shut doors through which we heard that music
Are softly closed. Horns mutter down to silence.
The stars whirl out, the night grows deep.
Darkness settles upon us. A vague refrain
Drowsily teases at the drowsy brain.
In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep.Where have we been? What savage chaos of music
Whirls in our dreams?—We suddenly rise in darkness,
Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more.
We dream we are numberless sea-waves languidly foaming
A warm white moonlit shore;

Or clouds blown windily over a sky at midnight,
Or chords of music scattered in hurrying darkness,
Or a singing sound of rain . . .
We open our eyes and stare at the coiling darkness,
And enter our dreams again.

So, I am really, really stretched thin right now.  I really had planned on pulling out some photos from the archives to post.  I just can’t do it.  So here is the view from the outside looking in on a dark, cold night.  The wind chimes were blowing; pretty but it sounds as cold as it feels outside at night right now.  I am a day late in posting, which I really do not like to do, but oh well!