Friday, December 26, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
The countryside was gorgeous all weekend after a night of freezing rain and then a cold morning. All the branches and twigs of the trees, and every stalk of grass, was encapsulated by a tube of ice. In the mornings, the low sun glimmered and sparkled off everything. As the sun rose and the ice began to melt off the trees, tinkling breakage was everywhere and the ground littered with half-tubes of “glass” of many diameters. The gound crunched wherever you walked adding sound to the beauty.
His hoary frost, his fleecy snow, Descend and clothe the ground,
The liquid streams forbear to flow, In icy fetters bound.
("Winter", from the Sacred Harp)
Our weekend in the Berskshires was a wonderland.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
We celebrated the life and mourned the death and wept for the love for our dear Louise yesterday in Warren, CT in a packed church. Sam sang All is Well; Colin Lindsay played concertina (Fredric Paris tune) and Hallowell was sung by Colin and Rachel, Mary and Julia. The website Caringbridge.com kept hundreds of people informed and able to write in letters of love and concern; four readers read excerpts from the letters. And Wordsworth's poem about daffodils (which folks have planted for Louise) was read. The photos of the lakes are taken by my sister Annie just by Wordsworth's cottage in the Lake District.
- "Daffodils" (1804)
I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
- That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
- A host, of golden daffodils;
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
- And twinkle on the Milky Way,
- Along the margin of a bay:
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
- Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
- In such a jocund company:
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
- In vacant or in pensive mood,
- Which is the bliss of solitude;
And dances with the daffodils.
- By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
which move out over the things around me.
Perhaps I'll never complete the last,
but that's what I mean to try.
I'm circling around God, around the ancient tower,
and I've been circling thousands years;
and I still don't know: am I a falcon, a storm
or a great song.