In the middle of the city, in east Austin, there is a working farm, and an al fresco restaurant. It's called Eden East. Our friend Jon, who's an artist, lives there. I kinda envy him.

Every year for the past 8, the local Rotary Club has a fund-raiser cooking contest, called Men Who Cook. It's entered by chefs, and also by local guys who just love cooking. Hubby has entered most times, I think, and has won several times. Last night, with his Caribbean Queen Shrimp with Lobster and Ancho Chili sauce, he won again, with the help of our son Peter. I'm so proud of him!

I live in an enchanted world.

EVOLUTION

Out of the dusk, a shadow,
Then, a spark;
Out of the cloud a silence,
Then, a lark;
Out of the heart a rapture,
Then, a pain;
Out of the dead, cold ashes,
Life again.

- John Bannister Tabb

Some days....

My maternal grandfather was a very learned man. He was fluent in five languages, and something of a poet and philosopher.  And a gourmet cook. And his favorite poet was William Blake. When I was seven, for his birthday, I memorized and recited The Tyger for him. And my sister, five at the time, did The Lamb. Memories that Made Me.......


The Tyger

Tyger, tyger, burning  bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

From Irish Fairy and Folk Tales, W.B. Yeats

The bodies of saints are fastidious things. At a place called Four-mile-Water, in Wexford, there is an old graveyard full of saints. Once it was on the other side of the river, but they buried a rogue there, and the whole graveyard moved across in the night, leaving the rogue-corpse in solitude. It would have been easier to move merely the rogue-corpse, but they were saints, and had to do things in style

"I am a barbarously early riser....I love the empty, silent, dewy, cobwebby hours." -- C.S. Lewis, Letters to an American Lady

Me too, Mr. Lewis 

This barely 5-year-old cutie that I'm teaching, who came to me in September unable to hold still for ten seconds, still unable to stop talking for ten seconds, but very bright, will be reading and writing in cursive by Christmas, methinks.  

Imber totem diem fluit.

Urceatim semper pluit.

Taedet intus nos manere:

Numquam potest sol splendere....

Autumn joy

The mural in my daughters' hallway, which they painted over several months. Painstakingly detailed, delightfully imaginative. I have some awesome kids.
(I had to take a series of photos, because the hall is too narrow to back up and get the whole picture. I'm insisting that when they move they take the wall with them! lol)

Serpent wrapped around a beam of sunlight. Brilliant.

The Leaden-Eyed

Let not young souls be smothered out before
They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride.
It is the world's one crime its babes grow dull,
Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden-eyed.

Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly,
Not that they sow, but that they seldom reap.
Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve,
Not that they die, but that they die like sheep.

     Vachel Lindsay

Mah bidi neyum

Ever so rarely that man in a million is born

Gentle and soft, but he'd just as soon off you

for looking the wrong way, as not.

- Boz Scaggs

   On the bottom is a drawing of Monticello, done by a student of the University of Virginia art department and sold as a fundraiser, in 1958. To my grandfather, Edward Kilcrin. Precious. I need to replace the broken glass. Keeping that frame.
   Beside it is an alcohol ink painting on ceramic tile, done by my dear friend Judy Okun. Awaiting the proper display, I'm still deciding on that.
   Filling my forest with beauty......

I'm loving this little nook more every day.

The  Great Day

Hurrah for revolution and more cannon shot!
A begger on horseback lashes a begger on foot.
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again!
The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.

- William Butler Yeats

...... that this should come in my poem-a-day book right after election day is remarkable.

May the best man win!

Heartbreakingly beautiful. 

Aristotelian Tragedy. Very good movie.

Hanging out with the noblest Roman of them all........

Watching My Fair Lady with the Professor. Life is good.

from A Shropshire Lad

There, like the wind through woods in riot
Through him the gale of life blew high;
The tree of man was never quiet;
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.

- A.E. Houseman

from The Tempest
Act IV, Scene I

Prospero: Be cheerful, Sir
Our revels are now ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with sleep.

   I have recently felt the urge to do more writing, and have been especially pulled toward poetry, and with some satisfaction. I've been casting about for the right sort of poetry to read, to improve my skills, and with LITTLE satisfaction. But the other day as I was going through an old box of books, I came upon a book called A Poem A Day, edited by Karen McCosker and Nicholas Albery. A poem for each day of the year. So I'm starting pretty close to the end. 
   I noticed on the first page, that it had belonged to  a lady I had very much admired as a girl, the aunt of my best friend. When the good lady passed away, my friend sent me several boxes of her books, because she knew I shared many interests with her aunt. Having stumbled across this book just when I needed it fills me with gratitude. Thank you again, Dina Khouri, and I bless the memory of Aunty Ruth Hembekides.

An evening at my girls' house, which was magical. I love the look of their place, it's very simple, with plenty of plants, books, and strings of little lights. And very little furniture, tho just enough to make everyone comfortable. It looks like a fairy garden. The spice bottles in the kitchen make it look like an apothecary shop. Love spending time in that place, with those dear people. Last night we had everyone in the family except Robbie and Kasi. Plus a cousin, and their darling roommate from Germany. Life is good.   <3

It's the last Friday of the month at Renaissance Academy, AND the end of October. So I dressed up like a witch (sort of) and we carved pumpkins and ate pumpkin cake and Rice Crispy treats. Fun!

Cool October night..... Happy Mariah

Good morning. Beauty.

This lady's excited. I've joined a writing club, wherein we are given a prompt once a month, and we go to town. Looking forward to the first assignment!

Listening to Lisa Morales has brought this gal and her absolutely beautiful version of this song to mind. She's from these parts, plays in Austin a lot. No one does this old tune like she does.

Such a wonderful time, at the Smithville Spoken Word meeting! This is a local poetry circle that meets once a month, and I'm so delighted to see how much talent ferments in our little town. Actually, the next town over, but poets from Bastrop contribute too. I'm inspired!

I like poets.

"I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

PERSPECTIVE.......

Me: Those paintings look like waves of the sea, infused with and reflecting sunlight.

He: They look like paper that got wet and dried funny.

Saturday night the singer who was performing talked a little about her mother, for whom she'd written some songs. She said that though her mother was very educated - spoke eleven languages and had a PhD in Mexican literature - she was filled with wonder and fascination, and responded to each experience as if it were the first. My husband leaned over and said, "That's just like you.".
That may be one of the greatest compliments I've ever gotten.

Lisa Morales. I'd never heard of her before, but she's good. Old Quarter Acoustic Cafe was a tiny old hole in the wall - perfect ambiance. Great show.

 The view from our balcony in Galveston. My Home By The Sea.  <3

 My sweet little condo, which is to be rented out for a year. I'm going to miss it. Going back for one more visit, next weekend.

 The pool, from the balcony outside our front door.

 Nothing between me and Africa but some more of this stuff. And a few islands. I love thinking abut that.

Houston. Where every building is a monument. Going past it, in a marvelous mood, listening to Thank You by Zeppelin, which is also something of a monument. Perfect.

Leaving town with a married man! Heading for the coast...... in a few hours we'll be dining on seafood beside the sea. And a night in the condo. And some time staring out over the water....... Mmmm....... I've needed this. 

1. A sentence is a group of words containing a subject and a predicate and making complete sense.

2. The subject of a sentence is that about which something is being said.

3. The predicate of a sentence is that which is being said about the subject.

....Little girl wrapping her mind around the word order, trying to make sense of it. When it clicks, it's a beautiful thing.

Last night we hd a beer tasting for the investors in our up-coming new pizzeria and brewery. It was a great success! Good things coming!

Yesterday, Renaissance Academy had the Beavers' dinner, from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, for lunch. It was a big hit and a lot of fun.  <3

Snack time at Renaissance Academy.

Zero is not the absence of numbers. Zero is the sum of all numbers. Whoa.

....not that those the fairies love are always carried off - they may merely grow

 silent and strange, and taken to lonely wanderings in the "gentle" places. 

 Such will, in after times, be great poets or musicians, or fairy doctors.......

                             - W.B. Yeats

Dayum.
This sounded SO good on the car's sound system yesterday....... wow

Driving through post card country - rolling hills swathed iin cotton, cattle, corn, and oil pumps - in a marvelous mood. With a handsome foreigner with gray temples at the wheel.  Listening to Low Spark of High Heel Boys on the excellent sound system. If I felt any better, I'd be sick.

A certain very white man sounding like a certain black man. A couple of my favorite singers, whom I would never have connected in my mind if Boz hadn't done this. Mm-mm-mm!