"Like Adam, the poet is placed....in a paradise of delights, and like him he has the duty to contemplate them."  - Andrew Marvell

from THOUGHTS IN A GARDEN
                               - Andrew Marvell

   What wondrous life is this I lead!
Ripe apples drop about my head;
The luscious clusters of the vine
Upon my mouth do crush their wine;
The nectarine and curious peach
Into my hands themselves do reach;
Stumbling on melons as I pass,
Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.

   Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less
Withdraws into its happiness;
The mind, that Ocean where each kind
Does straight to its own resemblance find;
Yet it creates, transcending these,
Far other worlds, and other seas;
Annihilating all that's made
To a green thought in a green shade.

   How exciting! This Sunday, Hubby and I leave for Seattle, Washington, to pick up the brewery equipment we've bought - now that the construction of the room to house and operate it all is under way. New gas lines, water lines, electricity...... all for those huge tanks.
   The huge tanks will go into a huge truck, which Raymond will drive back.
   So we get a day roaming around Seattle, and then a few days driving back, through the mountains and farms and deserts of the American west. Yummy!
   I will be posting pics. I have wanted to see Washington for so long.......

THE PHILOSOPHER
          - Edna St. Vincent Millay

And what are you, that wanting you,
   I should be kept awake
As many nights as there are days
   With weeping for your sake?

And what are you that, missing you,
   As many days as crawl
I should be listening to the wind
   And looking at the wall?

I know a man that's a braver man
   And twenty men as kind,
And what are you, that you should be
   The one man in my mind?

Yet women's ways are witless ways,
   As any sage will tell -
And what am I, that I should love
   So wisely and so well?

Relearning to think outside the box......

from THE SUICIDE
          - Edna St. Vincent Millay

- I love thee more than they
Who serve thee most; yet serve thee in no way.
Father, I beg of thee a little task
To dignify my days - 'tis all I ask......

        "Child," my father's voice replied,
"All things thy fancy have desired of me
Thou hast received. I have prepared for thee
Within my house a spacious chamber where
Are delicate things to handle and to wear,
And all these things are thine. Dost thou love song?
My minstrels shall attend thee all day long.
Or sigh for flowers? My fairest gardens stand
Open as fields to thee on every hand.
And all thy days this word shall hold the same:
No pleasure shalt thou lack that thou shalt name.
But as for tasks -" he smiled and shook his head;
"Thou hadst thy task, and laidst it by," he said.

We miss out on wisdom if we’re too narrow...Specialists become so narrow that they actually start developing worse judgment about the world as they accumulate knowledge...Breadth of training predicts breadth of transfer. Transfer is your ability to take knowledge and skills and apply them to a problem or situation you have not seen before. And your ability to do that is predicted by the variety of situations you’ve faced...As you get more variety, you’re forced to form these broader conceptual models (in the classroom setting called “making connections” knowledge), which you can then wield flexibly in new situations.      - David Epstein

“Every prophet has to come from civilization, but every prophet has to go into the wilderness. He must have a strong impression of a complex society and all that it has to give, and then he must serve periods of isolation and meditation. This is the process by which psychic dynamite is made.”   - Winston Churchill

To my dear old friend Jon C,
Who one time took a train with me

TRAVEL
    - Edna St. Vincent Millay

The railroad track is miles away,
    And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
    But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,
    Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
    And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with the friends I make
    And better friends I'll not be knowing,
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,
    No matter where it's going.

We made the paper in Austin!

https://www.austinchronicle.com/events/arts/theatre/the-seam-project-south-2508948/

TAVERN
  - Edna St. Vincent Millay

I'll keep a little tavern
    Below the high hill's crest
Wherein all grey-eyed people
    May set them down and rest.

There shall be plates a-plenty
    And mugs to melt the chill
Of all the grey-eyed people
    Who happen up the hill.

There sound will sleep the traveller
    And dream his journey's end
But I will rouse at midnight
    The falling fire to mend.

Aye, 'tis a curious fancy -
    But all the good I know
Was taught me out of two grey eyes
    A long time ago. 

I had decided to study in depth two American lady poets - Millay and Dickinson. Got books for both. Since I can't find My Emily Dickinson (she's in one of those stacks waiting for me to finish my bookcase), I will start with My Millay. So you'll be seeing some of my favorites of hers around here for a while..... :)

REGARDNG FRANCIS THOMPSON
                Before Performing His Poem
                                 - Mariah Keyrouz

Call me silly - or not
But this old young lady prays a lot.
Tonight I ask Him to thank and embrace
A dead poet, filled with élan and grace.

May the fuel of his words, hit once again
With my bellows full of oxygen
Ignite the Spirit to burn inside,
Where Truth and Joy as one may abide.

Today we begin construction of the brewery! What an exciting day for 602 - the restaurant, and Bastrop!

Here's where I practice my poem - complete with the props I'll be using, including the glass of wine. But the chair will be a small arm chair instead. Tonight is dress rehearsal, and I'm jazzed!

THE DEAD AT CLONMACNOIS
          - Thomas William Rolleston
          - Based on an original poem in Irish, by Angus O'Gillan

In a quiet water'd land, a land of roses,
       Stands Saint Kieran's city fair;
And the Warriors of Erin in their famous generations
       Slumber there.

There beneath the dewy hillside sleep the noblest
       Of the clan of Conn,
Each below his stone with name in branching Ogham
       And the sacred knot thereon.

There they laid to rest the seven kings of Tara,
       There the sons of Cairbrè sleep -
Battle-banners of the Gael that in Kiernan's plain of crosses
       Now in their final hosting keep.

 
And in Clonmacnois they laid the men of Teffia,
       And right many a lord of Breagh;
Deep the sod above Clan Creidè and Clan Conaill,
       Kind in hall and fierce in fray.

Many and many a son of Conn the Hundred-Fighter
       In the red earth lies at rest;
Many a blue-eye of Clan Colman the turf covers,
       Many a swan-breast.

I mean, c'mon - who HASN'T broken into song while on sentry duty??
                                                                         - Timon the meercat

WITCH-WIFE
        - Edna St. Vincent Millay

She is neither pink nor pale,
    And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
    And her mouth on a valentine.

She has more hair than she needs;
    In the sun 'tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of colored beads,
    Or steps leading into the sea.

She loves me all that she can,
    And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
    And she never will be all mine.

lol

Moving along in the Jazz series. WWII and swing, and the introduction of Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie......

"It is easy to work when the soul is at play" - E. Dickinson

"In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun" - M. Poppins

"I like to make my jobs fun - like a camping trip or a crime" - J. Welch

Momento Mori

SONG: TO CELIA
         - Ben Jonson

Drink to me, only, with thine eyes,
   And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
   And I'll not ask for wine.
The thirst, that from the soul doth rise,
   Doth ask a drink divine:
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
   I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late, a rosy wreath,
   Not so much honoring thee,
As giving it a hope that there,
   It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
   And sent'st it back to me:
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
   Not of itself,  but thee.

(Mariah speaking) This is the next one I will memorize.
I discovered it when I was about 14, reading The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury. For years I thought he had written it. Been in love with it since.

How much fun it would be, to memorize this, and recite it, nailing the accent! Might have to give that a try....

   So...... I'm practicing my performance of Hound of Heaven vigorously this week, as the dress rehearsal is on Thursday and the show (The Seam Project, in Austin) is on Friday and Saturday. I'm super excited and not even a little nervous. Maybe that will come later. I have my props planned and look forward to giving it a lot of life.
   I was thinking the other day that preparing for a show is a lot like having a dinner party. You plan for weeks, and you work your booty off, more and more as the time grows closer......  and then it's over in ten minutes! And if it's well received, the high is worth all the work..... and you can't wait for the next one!

Had my wild bunch over for dinner last night, as happens often on Sunday nights. Missed Yvonne, but enjoyed the rest of 'em. Love those kids soooo much!  💖

Sausage and veggies - smoked sausage, potatoes, carrots and cabbage, boiled together. One of the family faves from forever ago. With skillet-baked cornbread. Stone ground whole grain corn. yum

I don't know why the video doesn't work on here for my vids. Boo. I'll see if I can figure it out...

from PROMETHEUS UNBOUND
                       - Percy Bysshe Shelley

To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;
To forgive wrongs darker than death or nights;
To defy Power which seems omnipotent;
To love and bear; to Hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;
Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be
Good, great, and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory.

That's it - I'm packing my bags for the Misty Mountains......

7 Day Forecast SUN High: 93°F; Low: 75°F -- Mostly cloudy skies. A stray shower or thunderstorm is possible. High 92F. Winds light and variable.. Chance of precip. : 20% MON High: 97°F; Low: 77°F -- Intervals of clouds and sunshine. A stray shower or thunderstorm is possible. High 97F. Winds light and variable.. Chance of precip. : 20% TUE High: 98°F; Low: 77°F -- Mix of sun and clouds. Highs in the upper 90s and lows in the upper 70s.. Chance of precip. : 20% WED High: 100°F; Low: 78°F -- Mostly sunny. Highs 98 to 102F and lows in the upper 70s.. Chance of precip. : 10% THU High: 102°F; Low: 78°F -- Mostly sunny. Highs 100 to 104F and lows in the upper 70s.. Chance of precip. : 10% FRI High: 102°F; Low: 77°F -- Mix of sun and clouds. Highs 100 to 104F and lows in the upper 70s.. Chance of precip. : 10% SAT High: 103°F; Low: 77°F -- Sunshine. Highs 101 to 105F and lows in the upper 70s.. Chance of precip. : 10%

from THE OLD VICARAGE, GRANDCHESTER
                                                 - Rupert Brooke

Ah, God! to see the branches stir
Across the moon at Grandchester!
To smell the thrilling-sweet and rotten
Unforgettable, unforgotten
River-smell and hear the breeze
Sobbing in the little trees.
Say, do the elm-clumps greatly stand
Still guardians of that holy land?
The chestnut shade, in reverend dream,
The yet unacademic stream?
Is dawn a secret shy and cold
Anadyomene, silver and gold?
And sunset still a golden sea
From Haslingfield to Madingly?
And after, ere the night is born,
Do hares come out about the corn?
Oh, is the water sweet and cool,
Gentle and brown above the pool?
And laughs the immortal river still
Under the mill, under the mill?
Say, is there Beauty yet to find?
And Certainty? and Quiet kind?
Deep meadows yet, for to forget
The lies, and truths, and pain....Oh! yet
Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?

If I'm too forward
Tell me to get behind thee.


Dad told me that my mother said she liked writing poetry because she liked to play around with words.
'Truns in the family, methinks.

Thanks to my friend Rich Monk, for this lovely song, several years ago. Miss you, Monkey. :)

   So....... what do you do, when you're a wife in Texas and your husband texts you that he's going to be late one night, because he has to go check out a chicken place in LaGrange? Hahaha...... My habitual "Have fun!" came out a little too soon......
   It turns out there was a fried chicken stand that had enjoyed a thriving business since 1972, and the owners were tired, so they put it up for sale. Hubby and his partner scooped it up, and yesterday was the first day it operated under our banner - and did very well!  

   You can't imagine my delight at being messaged from Cyprus by a dear friend I've never met (I have a few of those) who told me she loves my blog. Coming from one with such good taste, that makes me very happy.
   Some day I'm coming to see you, Jeanne, and we will spend oodles of time catching up!

I love this.

The world out there is fraught with danger!

FRAUGHT, I TELL YOU!

(Uncle Max, Lion King 1 1/2)

Look Beyond What You See.....

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.  💖