Monday, August 27, 2012

Love After Love, by Derek Walcott


The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own  mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Sometimes a bit of attitude works...

Over the past few months the Republicans have been ramping up their phone calls to us registered Repubs;  for what it's worth, my own leanings are toward the center of everything with no specific party involved--but to do that would mean we'd be getting Dems AND Repubs calling, not a tolerable situation in any event.

It is, after all, Election Year.

Almost of the calls have been live, asking politely for either me OR my husband, and would we be interested in filling out a short survey?  No, we say, and hang up.  Or just hang up.  All of them have obviously been  college kids, earning maybe a penny a call;  I finally asked one of them why they keep calling here, we get two to three a day.  She seemed surprised, and I asked her to please take us off her list.  Two days of blessed silence.

Next time, it was a fella who was probably on the edges of terminal boredom, and drunk.  Seriously drunk. He asked for Wade.  Or Leland.  I said, no one here by that name.  Shock and disbelief. "You're kidding", he said.  Nope, no one by that name.  Take me off the list.  Peace, for a week. Aha, Im thinking, what just happened here.

Third time, they asked for me, by name. No one here by that name, sorry.  And, I added, in my best Stern but Nice Voice, the next time someone calls here we will be changing our party affiliation.  Period.  Not a call since. =)

Next time, we will be Democrats.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

New potatoes

just had to see what was going on under there, and this is what I came up with. Three plants, a nice yield for this early in the season, and considering the drought we had in July, about 5 pounds, I'd guess. They got a bit of scab, but that's cosmetic, and comes off when the peel does, anyway.  These are Katahdins.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Happy Birthday, Albert

When you're seventeen and gettin' a bit slow, more than a bit deaf, and sometimes it's hard to decide which side of the door you want to be on,  it's nice to know the porch is there for sleeping on good summer days--and it's even nicer when someone remembers to put out the Kitty CopeSacks with enough catnip to
please even the fussy ones.  Makes a great pillow, too.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Butterfly and clover

It's been a very good year for the Monarchs, plenty of heat if not a lot of water, and they seem to be thriving on it.   I wish them well. 

Feel Good Stuff for a Rainy morning


Drum Machine

This is a very old video kinda thing, fun to watch.  Once it starts, turn up the speakers a bit.

Golden Sky


James Taylor/Iris Dement



(to get back here, click the 'back' button on your machine)

Monday, August 13, 2012

Perseids

http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2012/10aug_perseids/

Just remembered these;  I guess last night was the peak, but they haven't disappeared yet.  Not that it would have done us much good here, even knowing,  since we had rain all night Saturday AND Sunday.  Maybe tonight.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Skunk visits

sometime this last week the grass around the garden decided to give in to the heat, and died. I went out this morning for something, and the ground in one particular section was ruffled up enough to suggest small rototillers had been at work.  Aha.  Skunk Season.  They are fussy eaters, and won't scrabble through tall grass to get at the yummy fat beetle grubs they so love--but mow the grass or have it die off, and there they are, digging up a storm. 
Bless their smelly little hearts.