L'aventure américaine

As the beautiful fall weather starts, I have increasingly thought of this poem. This is from a collection that I got in my early 20s and now, as I launch my last week in my 30s, I still love them.   I am grateful for these lovely fall days and all of the other days in between. I am so grateful for the gift of time and the life that goes with it. 

We have all reached that point at some juncture.  I am here today.  Tired of this.  Tired of not being able to make summer plans and feeling anxious about get togethers.  Tired of masks and gloves and fear of germs.  Tired of every story being dominated by COVID-19. So, I was happy to revisit this poem from the Unitarian Church today. Pandemic by Lynn Ungar What if you thought of it As the Jews consider the Sabbath--- the most sacred of times? Cease from travel. Cease from buy and selling. Give up, just for now, on trying to make the world different than it is. Sing. Pray. Touch only those To whom you commit your life. Center down. And when your body has become still, reach out with your heart. Know that we are connected in ways that are terrifying and beautiful. (You could hardly deny it now.) Know that our lives are in one another's hands. (Surely, that has come clear.) Do not reach out your hands. Reach out ...

To My Dear and Loving Husband By: Anne Bradstreet If ever two were one, then surely we.  If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;  If ever wife was happy in a man,  Compare with me ye women if you can.  I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,  Or all the riches that the East doth hold.  My love is such that rivers cannot quench,  Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.  Thy love is such I can no way repay;  The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.  Then while we live, in love let's so persever,  That when we live no more we may live ever.

The Storm (Bear) by Mary Oliver Now through the white orchard my little dog      romps, breaking the new snow      with wild feet. Running here running there, excited,      hardly able to stop, he leaps, he spins until the white snow is written upon      in large, exuberant letters, a long sentence, expressing      the pleasures of the body in this world. Oh, I could not have said it better      myself.

  We are about to celebrate two months as husband and wife. And it makes me excited for the rest of my life. My husband is patient and kind and sweet. And he's handsome, except for gross feet. He's painted my walls and appeased my whims. He's planted three fruit trees with cute little limbs. He has plans for greenhouses, co-ops and compost. He is always much more interesting than most. He's so smart and so fun and such a good man And I love him.  I love him, with all that I am.

The Journey One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice -- though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. "Mend my life!" each voice cried. But you didn't stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do -- determined to save the only life you could save. ~ Mary Oliver ~ I was reciting my e.e. cummings mantra for my friends, Danny and Jean Ellen, the other night and we all commenced discussing po...

I have been reciting this poem daily to myself, just as a happy reminder of good things. i thank You God for most this amazing day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes e.e. cummings *I just googled this and saw that there was more to the poem. More to memorize!

You are such an enabler, my friend. But I still never wish my glass to end. Your heavy layer is stirred up with ice and fizzy tonic makes it oh-so-nice. A lime is squeezed around the rim and delicious is your synonym. And as I flop on the couch and describe my day, I'm so glad that you came my way. It should be noted that I do not have a drinking problem, but it has to be said that after three straight, painful days at work, a gin and tonic last night was... nice.

If you go into my kitchen, you'll see my dishes are mounting. The number of job rejections isn't even worth counting. I'm sweating in this chair and the heat won't go away because the AC in my car and home went out on the same day. But, alternator belts and crank shafts are being replaced (even while my savings is being erased). And job offers will come and I'll have cool places to go And "Flight of the Conchords" ensures that my feelings aren't low. So I'm bucked up and am happy to say, that I'm in a good mood! (at least for today)

Sometimes things don't go, after all, from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail, sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well. A people sometimes will step back from war; elect an honest man; decide they care enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor. Some men become what they were born for. Sometimes our best efforts do not go amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to. The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you. Sometimes -Sheenagh Pugh I have kept this poem near my desk for nearly a month now. It has helped and so has my cousin . Her care package made my day. I think that spring is finally here and 2009 is turning around. Welcome tulips and Pig Cats alike.

Evenings like this make me reflect on college. Evenings before I had several tests, when I felt tense and ready for the next day to be over. I hate to wish my life away, but evenings like this make me wish for time to go faster. My tests now are certainly not as stressful as other tests have been, but I do feel the familiar tensing. Tomorrow I have two exams and a presentation, but I think that I am prepared and I'm pretty sure that the studying is over for the evening. Only "The Office" reruns await. This poem makes me appreciate even days like this. I'm lucky to be 25 in this summer in Indiana. The Life of a Day - -Tom Hennen Like people or dogs, each day is unique and has its own personality quirks which can easily be seen if you look closely. But there are so few days as compared to people, not to mention dogs, that it would be suprising if a day were not a hundred times more interesting than most people. But usually they just pass, mostly unnoticed, unles...

I have sharpened my knives, I have Put on the heavy apron Maybe you think life is chicken soup, served In blue willow-patterned bowls. I have put on my boots and opened The kitchen door and stepped out Into the sunshine. I have crossed the lawn, I have entered The hen house. -Mary Oliver Tomorrow is the 4th, or is it 5th, annual Great Chicken Caper. The day has arrived again, complete with Dad's emails and promise for the live webcam of the chicks (each time with a different, yet still clever, web address). And of course, each year we have a new Chicken Caper Virgin who still isn't quite sure what to expect and awaits the day with eagnerness and anxiety. Yup, tomorrow is the day in which we butcher 100 chickens in day. Since I have been telling people that my parents put on such a shin-dig, I've gotten one of two responses: "That's great! I'd love to go!" or "I like my chicken packaged and in a store." Both reactions leave me a little at odds......

This post is for you. I'm avoiding unpacking. Even though I have "The Amber Spyglass" to help me through (I should be listening to my lecture on the endocrine system... blah...), I still can't seem to get motivated. I loved your green pants. They remind me of this poem: The Cure -Ginger Adams Lying around all day with some strange new deep blue weekend funk, I'm not really asleep when my sister calls to say she's just hung up from talking with Aunt Bertha who is 89 and ill but managing to take care of Uncle Frank who is completely bed ridden. Aunt Bert says it's snowing there in Arkansas, on Catfish Lane, and she hasn't been able to walk out to their mailbox. She's suffering from a bad case of the mulleygrubs. The cure for the mulleygrubs, she tells my sister, is to get up and bake a cake. If that doesn't do it, put on a red dress. I was having a mulleygrub day until I received your pictures. Thanks. I think that I'll go make some chocolate...

I'm waiting for Mackenzie to come home and join me for a run. Except the weather seems so crazy outside that I'm hoping that we can opt out of it. Kristi, Mackenzie and I celebrated Valentine's Day in style on Friday. We had some delicious food, drank some fabulous wine and watched "Sex and the City." It was the ideal girl Valentine's Day. I do love my friends. Ivan got Mackenzie flowers, even in Russia. He's good. These are the flowers in the top picture. As the designated messenger, I had to laugh as I went to the florist at 4pm on Valentine's Day. It's rare to see so many stressed out, uncomfortable men all together. I was the only female there. I think it could top out as one of the worst places to pick up men. Midway through February, all is well here in Indy, as is evident from the pictures. As I was typing this, I heard a poem on NPR by E. Ethelbert Miller. You have to listen to the story to get to it, but it's worth it: http://www.npr.o...