A POISON TREE
     - William Blake

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I water'd it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft, deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole
When the night had veil'd the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

A few days ago I suddenly got a picture in my mind, a beautiful picture that I can't get out of my head. Have I seen a vision of my future?

I kinda hope so. My imagination has automatically begun building on the picture....

Walking out of the hotel to see the strong, hot breeze whipping the palm trees, I feel like I should be able to look across the street and see the ocean.
Has the ocean lost its way?

A QUICK TRIP TO MEXICO.....

The gas flares going all the time, at the oil wells on the way.

Rio Verde. Grande.

The bar outside the dentist office. 

My mixologist. Sprite and tequila margarita.

The fantastic burger place we always hit on the way back, if even one of us is capable of chewing.

CUTE little sandals we picked up for the baby.  💖

from ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD
                                                           - Thomas Gray

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
    The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
    And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

The pears are not quite ripe yet, but super sweet and crisp. Yum!

"What this place lacks in water and shade, it makes up for in searing heat and blinding sunshine!" - Timone, Lion King 1 1/2

I think he's been to Texas.

Got this album for my dad - the noblest Roman of them all - for his birthday. 85 years of awesomeness. ..... This is the soundtrack of the Broadway musical, which was made AFTER the movie (see it!), which was made after the one-man production done by Chazz Palminteri, whose true story it is.

I got to see Chazz Palminteri do the one-man act in Austin a few years ago, when my bother-in-law was running the newly opened Long Center for the Performing Arts. What a great show! He played all the parts, and we never lost track of who was talking. Got to chat with him for a few minutes after the show, discussing philosophy (Machiavelli). So very cool.

Every time I read this, I love it more.

 MILKMAID
        - Laurie Lee

The girl's far treble, muted to the heat,
calls like a fainting bird across the fields
to where her flock lies panting for her voice,
their black horns buried deep in marigolds.

They climb awake, like drowsy butterflies,
and press their red flanks through the tall branched grass,
and as they go their wandering tongues embrace
the vacant summer mirrored in their eyes.

Led to the limestone shadows of a barn
they snuff their past embalmed in the hay,
while her cool hand, cupped to the udder's fount
distils the brimming harvest of their day.

Look what a cloudy cream the earth gives out,
fat juice of buttercups and meadow rye;
the girl dreams milk within her body's field
and hears, far off, her muted children cry.

Today as I was sweeping the front porch, a breeze blew in that reminded me of the summer breezes up in the orchard, in the mountains of Lebanon. Brisk, gentle gusts that still smelled of the snow they came from, further up.

from PARTS OF ANIMALS, Book One, Chapter One
                                                            - Aristotle

The causes concerned in the generation of the works of nature are, as we see, more than one. There is the final cause and there is the moving cause. Now we must decide which of these two causes comes first, which second. Plainly, however, that cause is the first which we call the final one.  For this is the reason, and the reason forms the starting point, alike in works of art and works of nature.

That last remark I didn't intend for you.
That was for Pretend You.
Spent so much time with him, of late,
I forgot who I was talking to.

This may have been why I liked that cap back in the day. I loved this album, had it on LP.

AMOR MIO - Gipsy Kings
I wasn't able to find a version of the song that I could post, but this photo was on the video. Both the song and the picture are exquisite. 

Long ago when I was managing the Chess King men's clothing store in the mall near me, I saw this cap and liked it and bought it. I wore it everywhere. Put my hair up under it or left it down, and it went with everything. I became known for it. Loved wearing it to the skating rink and bopping along with the funk that played, in my cap. Then when the babies started coming and I lost track of most all else, I lost my cap. Missed it, described it to my kids, and kept hoping it would turn up in some box. But it didn't. Then the other day I saw a gent wearing the exact same cap and asked him where he got it. Amazon!  Haha...... of course. So I ordered one and now it's to be my signature cap again. 👌

from THE TEMPEST
act I scene II

Ariel: Full fathom five thy father lies
     Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
     Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly do ring his knell:
                                                           (Burden: ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them. - ding-dong, bell.

JULY
   - Alexander L. Posey

The air without has taken fever;
Fast I feel the beating of its pulse.
The leaves are twisted on the maple,
In the corn the autumn's premature;
The weary butterfly hangs waiting
For a breath to waft him thither at
The touch, but falls, like truth unheeded,
Into dust-blown grass and hollyhocks.

The air without is blinding dusty;
Cool I feel the breeze blow; I see
The sunlight, crowded on the porch, grow
Smaller till absorbed in shadow; and
Twilight lingers in the woods between;
Now I hear the shower dancing
In the cornfield and the thirsty grass.

One of the things written by my friend from Smithville's poetry circle, Spoken Word. I haven't read it but after last night I'm interested. He's now working on the fourth part of the story. And a rock opera.  Looking forward to exploring Will's work,

Last night I went to my poetry circle in Smithville, home of the movie Hope Floats. It was a great meeting. We read our pieces, and discussed many aspects of writing and thinking. A wonderful, inspirational group! When it was over I was one of the last to leave. Went out to the car, and was enchanted by the beautiful, warm night on the wide open Main Street of Smithville. Unusual, this month in Texas, to feel warm, not hot, even at 9 at night. With a hint of coolness in the soft breeze. I was delighted. Then I heard the sound of a woman singing the blues from somewhere on the quiet street, and walked toward the sound. Found a little place called The Front Room Wine Bar, and went in. No live blues singer, but Etta James on the speaker, while several people sat around the bar, drinking and chatting. I took a stool, ordered a martini, and joined the quiet conversation with strangers. Most pleasant evening, all in all.

WOODNICHE
      - Aidan Carl Mathews

The dragonflies were here before us, friend:
Cupboard of branch and bramble, woodniche
Where the sun tumbles, foxgloves are gorgeous.
Children tore their knees song theses thorns,

Fleshed their pullovers with raspberries.
Orange peel made ripples in the brown water,
Pebbles explored beyond our peering. I
Chewed dandelions and the sun brothered me.
Huge as policemen, somber as soutanes,

The kind trees whispered in the long watch
And I used wonder in the tremendous shadow
And be afraid where the wonder led.

Summer was wealthy with a daze of suntraps,
Daffodil-spitting, sumptuous. Everywhere
Ours for the taking. Whoever has said
It is time to go home is an adult.

Got these for Hubby for an anniversary present - along with lessons. Last night he and the boys set it up. This is going to be fun!   

Calmly keeping an eye on the kitchen....

Gorgeous harmony, beautiful prayer. May it be so.

Un regalo de me hija mas joven. 💖

The Goose & the Golden Egg

There was once a Countryman who possessed the most wonderful Goose you can imagine, for every day when he visited the nest, the Goose had laid a beautiful, glittering, golden egg.

The Countryman took the eggs to market and soon began to get rich. But it was not long before he grew impatient with the Goose because she gave him only a single golden egg a day. He was not getting rich fast enough.

Then one day, after he had finished counting his money, the idea came to him that he could get all the golden eggs at once by killing the Goose and cutting it open. But when the deed was done, not a single golden egg did he find, and his precious Goose was dead.

Simple lunch - homemade lenbi, with olive oil and a little zataar.

Also, I got a new mortar and pestle, but I only need the pestle. I may use the mortar as a cup. Delight.

From A DIALOGUE OF SELF AND SOUL
                                  - William Butler Yeats

I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!
When such as I cast out remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blessed.

"Hottest weekend of the summer in your forecast" from the local station.

ANOTHER DAY

NOTHER day, and with it that brute joy,⁠
Or that prophetic rapture of the boy
Whom every morning brings as glad a breath
As if it dawned upon the end of death!

All other days have run the common course,
And left me at their going neither worse
Nor better for them; only, a little older,
A little sadder, and a little colder.

But this, it seems as if this day might be
The day I somehow always thought to see,
And that should come to bless me past the scope
And measure of my farthest-reaching hope.

To-day, maybe, the things that were concealed
Before the first day was, shall be revealed,
The riddle of our misery shall be read,
And it be clear whether the dead are dead.

Before this sun shall sink into the west
The tired earth may have fallen on his breast,
And into heaven the world have passed away...
At any rate, it is another day!
                            - William Dean Howells

NOT LOVE PERHAPS
          - A.S.J. Tessimond

This is not Love perhaps - Love that lays down
Its life, that many waters cannot quench, nor the floods drown -
But something written in lighter ink, said in a lower tone:
Something perhaps especially our own:
A need at times to be together and talk -
And then the finding we can walk
More firmly through dark narrow places
And meet more easily nightmare faces:
A need to reach out sometimes hand to hand -
And then find Earth less like an alien land:
A need for alliance to defeat
The whisperers at the corner of the street:
A need for inns on roads, islands in seas, halts for discoveries to be shared,
Maps checked and notes compared:
A need at times of each for each
Direct as the need of throat and tongue for speech.

Oh, bloody hell. You're a spy!

It's a dance......

What a great meal. My garden sauce again (never the same, of course. A little table wine added.)

The ancient sentry behind our restaurant. This sort of thing is why I want to learn to paint. Or draw. Or whatever it takes to make this beauty my creation.

From MILTON
         - William Blake

And did those feet in ancient times
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among those dark satanic mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.

I will not cease form mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

From MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
                               - W. Shakespeare

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
   Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
   To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
   And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
   Into Hey nonny nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no more,
   Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
   Since summer first was leafy:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
   And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
   Into Hey nonny nonny.

There's a whisper in the story

There's a vesper in the song

Hints and prayers and hazy things

Like smoke that rises in curls and rings.

Like the reflection of sunlight

Painting pictures on the wall

Shapes that might mean everything

Or not a thing at all.

THE SONG OF A MAN WHO HAS COME THROUGH
                                                                 - D.H. Lawrence

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!
A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me!
If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh delicate, a winged gift!
If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself and am borrowed
By the fine, fine wind that takes its course through the chaos of the world
Like a fine, exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted;
If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge
Driven by invisible blows,
The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.

Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul,
I would be a good fountain, a good well-head,
Would blur no whisper, spoil no expression.

What is the knocking?
What is the knocking at the door in the night?
It is somebody wants to do us harm.

No, no, it is the three strange angels.
Admit them, admit them.

                 At Mozart's, taken with/by my daughter Annie.  💖

We took our cousin Kathy to the Hula Hut for dinner last night - a nice taste of Austin in the summer. And then to Mozart's next door for coffee and dessert. Fun!

                                    This is where we were. Such a nice view at sunset.

Mozart's outdoors

Mozart's indoors

                         There was live music here.  Just a guy and his guitar, singing. Nice.

Grab a fork and sit down!

           My roma tomatoes, growing volunteer in my compost tank.

               Figs from one of Raymond's trees.

         Garden sauce - the tomatoes, a bell pepper, onion, garlic, olive oil and fennel.

          Topped with slices of sautéed chicken breast.

And ice cream topped with a little fig sauce - those figs above, stewed a few minutes with a little sugar, vanilla, and a splash of Raymond's whiskey. Delightful meal!

There's a whisper in the story.

I love the word whisper. Onomatopoeia.

      MY DEAR FRIEND

        

                                             Your age is WHO you are, not when -
                                             You never stop being the ages you've been.
                                             You just keep adding ages to be,
                                             Like rings on a beautiful, well-watered tree.

Poetry - Words become ambiguous so meaning can be clear.

Woo-hoo! Years ago we planted a pear tree on our property,  but it was very young so it would take a while to produce. Then we had so many years of drought, I got out of the habit of going to that corner of the yard. The other day Raymond took me over there and showed me what's been happening while I wasn't looking.  They're not ready to pick yet, but we're in for some yummies soon!