Day 334 – Grand Dreams

Grand Dreams

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Day 313 – A Tree Grows in Sturgis

A Tree Grows in Sturgis

Day 313

I am the heat of your hearth, the shade screening you from the sun;
I am the beam that holds your house, the board of your table;
I am the handle of your hoe,
the door of your homestead;
the wood of your cradle,
and the shell of your coffin.
I am the gift of God and
the friend of man.
— Author Unknown

•••

I made myself do it.  Yes, one photo today and believe me, it was a struggle.  At least I didn’t have to leave me front yard to get this.

I must apologize to everyone I follow and to those of you who are leaving me such kind comments and feedback – I really have not been at 100% for some time now from one thing or another, and the back log of needed responses continues to pile up.  I really do look at everything that comes to my inbox, by the minute it seems – I just have not either had the time or the energy depending upon the week to acknowledge anything coming through.  I did make a small dent in the pile tonight, but got so tired that poor Kathryn was not given the attention that she, honest to God, deserves. So, here I sit once more with a pushy cat on my lap who is demanding my laptop keyboard, and I am ready to fall asleep.

I will leave this on a quote:  “After all… tomorrow is another day. “

 

Day 270 – In a Brown Land

In a Brown Land

Day 270

Now, O Now in This Brown Land by James Joyce

Now, O now, in this brown land
Where Love did so sweet music make
We two shall wander, hand in hand,
Forbearing for old friendship’ sake,
Nor grieve because our love was gay
Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress
Is knocking, knocking at the tree;
And all around our loneliness
The wind is whistling merrily.
The leaves — – they do not sigh at all
When the year takes them in the fall.

Now, O now, we hear no more
The vilanelle and roundelay!
Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before
We take sad leave at close of day.
Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything — –
The year, the year is gathering.

•••
My sweet boy and I walked tonight.  I was quite stylish on that walk with my brown dress slacks, my brown Mackinac Island hoodie with burgundy turtleneck, orange and white running shoes, brown fuzzy gloves and white and black knit head wrap.  I was set to go in true style and completed the look with hot pink and lime green ear buds to listen to my walking playlist.
It is so easy to embarrass a 13-year-old boy, even on a swiftly darkening evening.
With the cold wind blowing through my head wrap and into my ears, we decided to cut the walk short with a short cut through the dark cemetery. The conversation was good, the company better even though my sweet boy was walking 10 paces behind my stylish self.  Then I started to dance as we walked through the cemetery.  There was only me, the sweet boy and those who were tucked in under the brown winter grass (and maybe a sleepy squirrel or two).  The distance between my sweet boy and I lengthened to 20 paces, me dancing to Bang Bang, him walking with his head averted.
I can’t wait for tomorrow’s stroll.  It is so easy to embarrass a 13-year-old boy….

Day 251 – It Has Teeth

It Has Teeth

Day 251

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind by William Shakespeare

Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

I am going have to think about how jolly I actually am tonight…  Jolly.  If I were on Jolly Road in Lansing, MI, I would be right smack dab in the middle of jolly, but I am just off Liberty Road and a bit down from Sunnyfield.  What does that make me?  Cold.  What do I expect though?  What I do expect and dread are the constant questions, “Cold enough for ya?”  (No, I could stand a few degrees colder and pray, give me a windchill of -15F), “Didja order all this snow?” (Yes, I did.  And I have a secret and diabolical plan to gain world domination with my weather machine), “When you gonna thaw us out?” (As soon as I accomplish aforementioned world domination, of course), “If you hate the cold so much, why don’t you move down South?” (I’ll get right on that tomorrow, as soon as my throne is constructed in the small duchy that has been languishing without my fabulousness and I get that relocation package for my family and my mom),  and “Take it back where it came from, willya?” (As soon as I get my anti-gravitation machine up and running, I’ll send the snow right back up to those clouds!).  Ah, the joy of seasonal cliché….