the morns are meeker

What lovely weather we're having this first week of November--Mother Nature has graciously given me yet another reason to be thankful.  Prayers go out, though, to those who have been facing the destruction of their homes by tornadoes and flooding. Having experienced floods in both Texas and South Dakota I know the heart ache and fear, and pray for those affected.

Today's poems can be found on the "a" and "n" banners.  The lovely illustration is from the original Junior Classics book--I've always admired these old fashioned ink drawings.  Although we haven't experienced it yet, I know that windy nights will soon be here, as early as this weekend according to the weather station.  Robert Louis Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verses was always one of my favorites growing up, and I always linked this poem with another poem that my fourth grade teacher read aloud in class--The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes.  It was a little bit darker and creepier than Windy Nights, but I found the image of a mysterious horseman racing through the night exhilarating in both of the poems.

And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,

When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,   

When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,   

A highwayman comes riding—

         Riding—riding—

A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

And of course no autumn would be complete without Emily's poem No. 32 (Miss Dickinson never titled any of her poems)...

The morns are meeker than they were,

The nuts are getting brown;

 The berry's cheek is plumper,

The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf

the field a scarlet gown

Lest I sh'd be old-fashioned 

I’ll put a trinket on.  

May your day be filled with blessings large and small.  And remember...

Today is a good day for a good day!

The one advantage to daylight savings time is that morning light arrives a little earlier, and this morning's beautiful sunrise made getting up so early a little easier!

I always take quiet pleasure in hanging this banner on my china cabinet every November.  Not only does the message remind me daily to remember my blessings and recall how much I have to be extraordinarily thankful for, I also love the memories associated with it. 

 

I made the banner from a few pages of an old set of Collier's Junior Classics. I loved reading the adventure stories from this set at the old Carnegie library in my hometown, and years later, as a thank you for assistance in grant writing the children's librarian gifted me with the set when it was being discarded.  I ended up with two of the poetry books so I didn't feel too heartless in using a few of the poetry pages from the extra book.  I know altered books are all the rage right now, but it's still hard for me to dismember a book!

I choose each page with care, using autumn poems that carry a special meaning for me in one way or another.  "T" features How the Leaves Came Down by Susan Coolidge...

I'll tell you how the leaves came down.
The great Tree to his children said,
"You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown,
Yes, very sleepy, little Red;
It is quite time you went to bed."

"Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf,
"Let us a little longer May;
Dear Father Tree, behold our grief,
'Tis such a very pleasant day
We do not want to go away."

So, just for one more merry day
To the great Tree the leaflets clung,
Frolicked and danced and had their way,
Upon the autumn breezes swung,
Whispering all their sports among,

"Perhaps the great Tree will forget
And let us stay until the spring
If we all beg and coax and fret."
But the great Tree did no such thing;
He smiled to hear their whispering.

"Come, children all, to bed," he cried;
And ere the leaves could urge their prayer
He shook his head, and far and wide,
Fluttering and rustling everywhere,
Down sped the leaflets through the air.

I saw them; on the ground they lay,
Golden and red, a huddled swarm,
Waiting till one from far away,
White bed-clothes heaped upon her arm,
Should come to wrap them safe and warm.

The great bare Tree looked down and smiled.
"Good-night, dear little leaves" he said;
And from below each sleepy child
Replied "Good-night," and murmured,
"It is so nice to go to bed."

and "H" displays Rhyme of November Stars by Sara Teasdale.  I loved reading this poem as a young girl and then from my top bunk at night I'd watch the stars and moon march by my window--what a lovely sight.  This morning the moon was shining brightly in the early morning sky...

 The noiseless marching of the stars
Sweeps above me all night long;
Up the skies, over the skies
Passes the uncounted throng,
Without haste, without rest,
From the east to the west:
Vega, Deneb, white Altair
Shine like crystals in the air,
and the lonely Fomalhaut
In the dark south, paces low.
Now the timid Pleiades
Leave the shelter of the trees,
While toward the north, mounting high,
Gold Capella, like a queen,
Watches over her demesne
Stretching toward the kingly one,
Dusky, dark Aldebaran.
Betelgeuse and Rigel burn
In their wide wheel, slow to turn,
And in the sharp November frost
Bright Sirius, with his blue light
Completes the loveliness of night.

Tomorrow we will see what lovely poems the letters "A" and "N" have to share!  Until then, please remember that

Today is a good day for a good day!

...the changing light of fall

Hello, and welcome to November!  I could be a tad grumpy about today's poem and point out that the "changing light of fall" should actually be dubbed the "no light of fall" as darkness came so quickly last night due to the time change.  But I will refrain from grumpiness--it's hard enough on a Monday morning to muster enthusiasm without additional grousing about something I can't change! 

We had a lovely weekend--Phil winterized our deck and I worked on several sewing projects.  We celebrated Halloween evening in the land of Oz with our own sweet Dorothy, who caught on to the idea of trick or treating very quickly!

And to our surprise, the "cowardly lion" made an appearance at dinner time!  I'm so proud of this little cap I knit in the car during my recent trip to Indiana--isn't it sweet?

I find it hard to believe that October has already bid adieu and skipped away, leaving behind it's more somber, no-nonsense sibling, November, known for its bare trees and brown yards and early evening dusk.  I miss the bright reds and yellows and sunlight streaming through the leaves, setting the tree branches on fire.  But after I adjust to the time change I know I will also embrace this more mellow season--while October delights in dazzling displays of color, November creeps up softly and whispers "slow down.  sit by the fire and dream.  count your blessings and give thanks." 

I like this autumn poem by Edward Hirsch.  The maples in our backyard are definitely in the fall...falling...fallen phase and will soon be bereft of all their  lovely yellow leaves.  While we have definitely moved beyond "summer's sprawling past" we haven't yet been forced to greet "winter's hard revision" so hopefully we can linger awhile in this in-between land of seasons and remember all our blessings.

Fall, falling, fallen. That’s the way the season

Changes its tense in the long-haired maples

That dot the road; the veiny hand-shaped leaves

Redden on their branches (in a fiery competition

With the final remaining cardinals) and then

Begin to sidle and float through the air, at last

Settling into colorful layers carpeting the ground.

At twilight the light, too, is layered in the trees

In a season of odd, dusky congruences—a scarlet tanager

And the odor of burning leaves, a golden retriever

Loping down the center of a wide street and the sun

Setting behind smoke-filled trees in the distance,

A gap opening up in the treetops and a bruised cloud

Blamelessly filling the space with purples. Everything

Changes and moves in the split second between summer’s

Sprawling past and winter’s hard revision, one moment

Pulling out of the station according to schedule,

Another moment arriving on the next platform. It

Happens almost like clockwork: the leaves drift away

From their branches and gather slowly at our feet,

Sliding over our ankles, and the season begins moving

Around us even as its colorful weather moves us,

Even as it pulls us into its dusty, twilit pockets.

And every year there is a brief, startling moment

When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and

Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless

Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:

It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;

It is the changing light of fall falling on us.

Happy Monday!  Please join me in being grateful and thankful for today and remember...

Today is a good day for a good day!

what once or twice I have seen...

Can anyone explain why it takes so long to get to Friday, and then blam, before you know it Monday has appeared, leaving you wondering what happened to the weekend?  I have lots planned for this weekend, so in addition to the extra hour we gain I hope the hours move slowly!  Tomorrow we are babysitting Miss Lily, and can't wait to see her in her Halloween costume!  I have a special gift for her that I finished this week and am excited to give her.  I also need to finish my sister's birthday present, which will be late (as usual)....sorry, sis!!  Never enough time in the day to get it all done...

The last couple of weeks the drive to and from work has been exceptionally beautiful.  I thought you might enjoy seeing a few glimpses of what I see--even though I live in a large city there is a lot of nature close by!  First I drive by the local golf course...

whose trees never fail to delight me in the fall

 

and then a few blocks later I pass my favorite spot--cresting at the top of a hill I can see Lake Wingra in the distance.  It is always four seconds of breathtaking beauty in every season...

followed by a short drive past the nature preserve, also lovely in every season but particularly pretty in the fall...

and as I approach campus, I drive by the football stadium, which oddly enough always makes me think of the Colosseum, with our Saturday gladiators suiting up.  The statue, sadly, does not remind me of a Roman pillar, however, but more like a bunch of Easter eggs stacked on top of each other.  I know it is supposed to be footballs, but in my opinion this is one football statue that is a few yards short of a touchdown!

and then as I near my workplace, I enjoy a short drive by some beautiful old homes...

and finally past my favorite church, which is getting a sorely needed transformation!  I love its beautiful steeples and can't wait to see how they will gleam in the sun after the paint job is finished.  I'll keep you posted on the progress--I can look out my windows at work and gaze at this church.  

It's such a pretty church, and  somehow reminds me of London's St. Martin in the Fields because of the large pillars in front.  You can see the difference already between the crisp white paint on the lower roof and the very top of the steeple, while the in between area is still waiting to be refreshed.
 

Driving home also has its delights-- last night  a ray of sunshine burst free from the cloudy gray sky and lit up these trees near my home.  It was so beautiful I had to pull my car over and take this picture with my phone!

With all these lovely fall glimpses I thought it only right to share a lovely poem, another one from Mary Oliver's new book Felicity.  Felicity translates to intense happiness, joy and delight, and honestly, that's what some of her poems bring me.  I hope that you enjoy them too!

The World I Live In

I have refused to live

locked in the orderly house of 

reasons and proofs.

The world I live in and believe in 

is wider than that.  And anyway,

what's wrong with Maybe?

You wouldn't believe what once or 

twice I have seen.  I'll just

tell you this:

only if there are angels in your head will you

ever, possibly, see one.

Have a wonderful day, a blessed weekend, and remember..

Today is a good day for a good day!!

Taken at our local golf course on my way to work last week

Good morning, and sorry for the long silence!  My mother came to visit two weeks ago, and between juggling all the work demands of our hectic homecoming activities on campus and trying to spend the rest of my time visiting with her, I had to let my writing slide.  We drove Mother to Indiana late last week so that she could spend time with family there, and from Indiana Phil and I went on to Cincinnati to help celebrate my brother's promotion to airline captain.  It was wonderful spending time with my mother and dearly loved relatives.  I felt blessed all the way around!

Since I think I've made it pretty clear I'm a huge Mary Oliver devotee, you can imagine how excited I was when her new book, Felicity, was released last week.  This collection of poems, unlike many of her previous books that highlight the beauty and grace of the natural world, focuses instead on the inner landscape of the human heart.  I can't wait to share some of these beautiful poems, and decided to start with this one.  Is it okay to be both John Muir and Emily D?  I need trees AND a garden!  The photos below were captured early morning at my uncle's farm in Indiana. 

“Leaves and Blossoms Along the Way”

If you’re John Muir you want trees to
live among. If you’re Emily, a garden
will do.
Try to find the right place for yourself.
If you can’t find it, at least dream of it.

When one is alone and lonely, the body
gladly lingers in the wind or the rain,
or splashes into the cold river, or
pushes through the ice-crusted snow.

Anything that touches.

                      

God or the gods, are invisible, quite
understandable. But holiness is visible,
entirely.

                  

Some words will never leave God’s mouth,
no matter how hard you listen.  

                     

In all the works of Beethoven, you will
not find a single lie.

                       

All important ideas must include the trees,
the mountains, and the rivers.

                    

To understand many things you must reach out
of your own condition.

                       

For how many years did I wander slowly
through the forest. What wonder and
glory I would have missed had I ever been
in a hurry!

                       

Beauty can both shout and whisper, and still
it explains nothing.

                       

The point is, you’re you, and that’s for keeps.


My wish for today is that each of us can find the right place for ourselves.

Today is a good day for a good day...

"I am so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers"...

As Anne (with an "e") so aptly observed in Anne of Green Gables, October is such an amazing month.  My family celebrates the autumn splendor each year with a trip to Blue Mounds State Park, where the highest elevation in southeastern Wisconsin promises views all the way to Iowa!  As we hiked the trails yesterday a few favorite poems came to mind--I hope you enjoy them all.  

Happy Monday!

"If you wish to count the Scarlet Oaks, do it now. In a clear day stand thus on a hill-top in the woods, when the sun is an hour high, and every one within your range of vision, excepting in the west, will be revealed." (Thoreau, from "Autumnal Tints")

Nature’s first green is gold, 
Her hardest hue to hold. 
Her early leaf’s a flower; 
But only so an hour. 
Then leaf subsides to leaf. 
So Eden sank to grief, 
So dawn goes down to day. 
Nothing gold can stay. 

~~Robert Frost 

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries – - -roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time’s measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay – - – how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.

~~Mary Oliver

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.

~~Emily Dickinson

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree... 

 ~~Emily Bronte

 

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, 
       the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things 
       come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, 
       not one lasts.

~~Carl Sandburg 

Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile...

~~William Cullen Bryant

A morning with Mary Oliver

It's a stressful time at work, with college homecoming next week calling for umpteen meetings and a crazy workload.  I admit the weight of the work has kept me from sleeping well lately and I often find myself wide awake way too early, lying in the dark with my head spinning from my always expanding to-do list.  This morning was no exception, but instead of lying in bed fretting about things I decided to get up and spend some time with one of my favorite poets. 

"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.”

There's nothing like a quiet, dark room and a hot cup of coffee to start the day off on a brighter note.  I found my new coffee mug this weekend and fell in love with it.  It's from England (no surprise, right?) and makes me smile every time I use it.  

"Ten times a day something happens to me like this - some strengthening throb of amazement - some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.” 

“You must not ever stop being whimsical. And you must not, ever, give anyone else the responsibility for your life.”

It's so easy when life gets hectic to focus on the negative and use words like "overwhelmed" and "stressed."  When I settled into the corner of the couch and picked up my book of Oliver's poems, different words greeted me--affirming words, joyful words.  This is how to start the day.  With joy.

“Still, what I want in my life
is to be willing
to be dazzled—
to cast aside the weight of facts

and maybe even
to float a little
above this difficult world.” 

And as night slowly gave way to day, the heaviness I was feeling turned to gratefulness--grateful for another day of life, grateful for my family and friends, and today, extra grateful for wise words that transcend the page and lift the soul.

Hopefully I can carry the wise and wonderful words of this morning with me into my day.  May all of us have days blessed with wonder.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.