Saturday, December 29, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
And that was the extent of the shoveling for us.
Oh yes: we also chipped away the icy white that was concealing our outside thermometer.
Soon, KD was back at her post, watching for birds.
Tonight we get our son at Mitchell airport, home for Christmas.
Our two week long kitty will meet her brother. 8 months old when we got her,
she seems much larger now. Doubtless our NYC son will seem larger too.
When KD leaps at the window, the sparrows scatter, but they may be
grateful for the unburied birdseed.
Wis Guthrie's annual Christmas letter. Over the decades, he has opted to use his Grant Wood
American Gothic theme for this letter. This year, however, after picturing the late Ina with a halo on last year's letter, Wis for the time being took a different tack and drew from his amusement
of a 3 year old girl who as a social gathering studied Wis carefully, and then at an appropriate time she whispered:
You're going to have a baby!
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Seth King-Gengler plays Piano Sonata in A minor, 3rd movement; Sidney; Bat Cat; Bobbleheads; Christmas Greetings; Surely the push reel lawn mower
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Sally, sea-going, at my side in 1977.
An ex-wife got her a job on a farm.
Mona's memorial at the Odd Fellows Hall
Collar, red trousers 2012
KD Cat, our new black Christmas kitty
(after our year-long mourning of dear Mona)
in her new red collar
set to make this yuletide merry
complete with her loyal heart and friendly green eyes.
When the tree goes up, soon, after Advent susides,
she my cause it to topple in fun.
FOR THE COMMON MAN
FOR MAGNIFICENCE, PLAY AGAIN:
FOR OLDER TIME VERSION
WITH THE VERVE ONLY WOODY HERMAN CAN BRING:
off his Facebook page, buddies horned:
of leaves is to conceal
which we notice
as if for the first time:
row after row
of dark forms
And since we will be
for so long,
let us now honor
of the vertical:
stalks of wheat
which to the ant
must seem as high
as these trees do to us,
But most of all
these winter oaks,
these soft-fleshed poplars,
whose bark is like
against which I lean
my chilled head,
to lie down.