Thursday, October 15, 2020

I was Saturday years old

Finished reading a book, "Committed to Memory: 100 Best Poems to Memorize". Way too heavy on the 17th and 18th century male writers so I can't really recommend it. It's going in the give away box. 

However, a poem at the beginning struck me. 

Not like the brazen giant of Greek,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her  mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she. 
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddle masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Sen these, the homeless, tempest-post to me,
I life my lamp beside the golden door!"

Here I thought those words were at the beginning of a poem or perhaps the entirety of the poem. Emma Lazarus, The New Colossus

Beverage:  Dark Chocolate Cocoa



Monday, October 12, 2020

The Official End of Summer

 I brought in the geraniums today. 

No, I don't remember what colors are here. The one at the back has buds so I'll know when it blooms. 

I adore geraniums because they are incredibly sturdy plants. They come in such a wide variety of colors, too. 

This pink one has been coming in and going out for at least five years; probably longer because I can't exactly remember when I got it. It's quite leggy and is in desperate need of a pruning. I'm going to let it get acclimated to being inside and then I will slowly trim the bracts in half. 

Growing up, my dad's father had this red geranium which was six FEET across. It sat in the window seat in his living room, which was a south window. He covered the windows with white gauzy curtains so the light was diffused. That had to help the geranium deal with direct summer sun. It was too big to haul in and out. He just left it there and would water it twice a week. 

After he died, my aunts took cuttings and it was tossed out. I can't imagine a geranium would last a long time but we didn't have a place for something that big or I think mom would have claimed it. 

So, summer is officially over. We have two more 70 degree days and then it tanks and I will have to wear layers. I was ready to bring the geraniums inside. The morning and most of the afternoon was rainy so they got a good soaking before coming inside. In this dumpster fire of a year, they are a nice reminder that there is beauty if you look. 

Beverage:  water


Sunday, October 11, 2020

Things We Don't See in Chicagoland


Let's just say this is normal in Iowa this time of year if you're out and about outside of a major city. 

Beverage:  Dr Pepper




A long, long time ago
I can still remember 
How I used to come here to post in style.
And I knew when I had my chance
That sometimes my wording would enhance
Your day and give you a smile. 

But life got in the way and it was only because a Twitter friend, Goblin Katie, mentioned how she wanted to be told ghost stories that I came here to get the link to my grand ghost story of July 2016. "Oh yeah," I recalled. "I used to write here, a lot." 

Much has happened in the three years since I last posted. I always meant, throughout 2017, to get this caught up, but busyness doesn't always translate into productivity. 

I still own this domain so no one else can take this and run with it. I'm still writing. There are a number of irons in the proverbial fire, at the moment. 

This morning, I was in Iowa, helping my mother fix a log-in issue with her computer. I was out there for less than 20 hours. It seems somewhat dumb to drive that far to fix her computer, but there was more at stake than the computer. I hadn't seen her since June of 2018. Again, there's that life getting in the way of things. 

It was the perfect time to travel. The days were warm and sunny. This morning, the smell on the breeze. You know how some candle companies have what they call "Fall" or "Harvest"? Nope. There is a smell I cannot adequately describe on the breezes in October in Iowa. There is the aroma of ripe corn and soybeans waiting to be harvested. There is the smell of earth. And there is an indescribable smell of clean. You can't get this in a candle. I stood there, as I loaded the car, just breathing in the air. I could stand there for hours just smelling that. 

I'm back home, preparing for the week ahead. It will be busy. 

Perhaps I shouldn't be such a stranger to my own blog. Perhaps I should take my own advice and write. Perhaps you shall see me more often. 

I have stories to tell. 

Beverage:  Dr Pepper