Roses

The roses are having a good year. So far.

 

I cut them and brought them in because of the weather.

Say Again?

Client in a Property Brothers episode: "I don't think this house will suit our robunctious lifestyle."

Big Bird

Yesterday there was a pileated woodpecker in one of my trees. He differs from the much larger, and probably extinct, Ivory-billed Woodpecker. His bill is black instead of ivory, and the pattern of his underside when he flies is a bit different. I didn't get a photo of him, of course; this one is from the internet, but that's how he looked.

Once my husband and I got lost while walking in the woods in North Carolina. While hunting for our car, we heard a loud, sort of unearthly bird call, looked up and saw an ivory-bill fly over, hooting as it went.

The woodpeckers I've seen (identified) while living here are the flicker or yellowhammer, red-headed woodpecker (the prettiest bird), pileated, and a tee-ninesy little downy woodpecker. I've probably seen a middle-sized hairy woodpecker but didn't know it.

*

While I was discarding books and cleaning up my office, my friend Joe W. made a profound observation that made me feel much better about the crowded mess in my house. He said, "I'm going to wait and let my survivors worry about all my stuff, when I kick the bucket." I thought, "Yeah, I can do that," for the remainder of my junk.

*

 

1:30 p.m.: Today I fixed a real lunch: a big pork loin chop, mashed potatoes, field peas and cornbread, and a cucumber and tomato salad.

Mud

After pigging out on fried chicken and the trimmings, Jed and I watched two good movies yesterday evening. "Mud" was great. "Serenity" was sort of disappointing, as two members of the old Firefly crew got killed.

This morning we got out before noon, for an early lunch at Cracker Barrel. Then Jed went back to Atlanta to practice a presentation he'll give on Tuesday.

We Could Use Some Sunshine

Spring isn't supposed to be dreary. Anyway, I got a good look at the bobtailed squirrel with the binoculars this morning. And it makes me feel a little bit cheerful to look at my collection of pretty plates, like this one.

 

*

 

Now I hear Gretchen scratching the front door. She's almost as welcome as sunshine, except when she barfs on the living room carpet.

Reading My Poems

On this cold, damp day, I attended the literary club's monthly meeting at the Methodist Church's beautiful Family Life center. The weather and various flooding and other problems kept some of the members away, but Dine, Chris, Gwen, Jean, Betty and Barbara were there. Barbara and Dine had prepared a beautiful and scrumptious luncheon feast, and they let me read a bunch of poems from my book.

This was Barbara's lovely bunny centerpiece.

I had such a good time and enjoyed seeing and talking with friends. They've invited me to rejoin the Castalia Literary Club in the fall, which I plan to do.

Worst Movie "Remake"

"The Manchurian Candidate, 2004" may not be the worst movie I've ever seen. If it hadn't been shown as a remake of the 1962 classic, or if you'd never seen the 1962 classic,--if they hadn't used the same character names, if they hadn't pronounced Eugenie "Ujenay"--

I really do think this is the worst movie I have ever seen. And I hate that, because Denzel Washington, one of my favorite actors, was unfortunate enough to star in it. The "Raymond" and "Josie" characters were so unattractive, you didn't even mind when Raymond drowned her. And Meryl Streep is not scary like Angela Lansbury.

New Neighbors

An old pine with a knot-hole halfway up
may break and hit the house someday; but that's
for me to contemplate. This pair of hawks,
new to the neighborhood, shun the old nest
in the flawed pine, and choose to build a new
apartment in a taller, stouter tree.

They call out to each other as they work,
and warn me to look out for falling timber;
but all that drifts down from their carpentry
is one bright feather, like a calling card.

by jrc 4/11/14

Dog gone

Wiping down the outside of the front door, I found a large paw-print at eye level. There's a black-and-white, blue-eyed dog that roams around here from time to time. One of these days, I'm going to attach a note to his collar: "Next time I see this dog, I'm going to keep him."

***

Some things are blooming.

 

The oxalis has survived in the lawn. Have to dig up the roots before Mr. Reed's crew cuts them down.

The War God's Horse Song

I am the Turquoise Woman's son.
On top of Belted Mountain
Beautiful horses--slim like a weasel!
My horse has a hoof like striped agate;
His fetlock is like a fine eagle plume;
His legs are like quick lightning.
My horse's body is like an eagle-plumed arrow;
My horse has a tail like a trailing black cloud.
I put flexible goods on my horse's back;
The Little Holy Wind blows through his hair.

His mane is made of short rainbows.
My horse's ears are made of round corn.
My horse's eyes are made of big stars.
My horse's head is made of mixed waters
(From the holy waters--he never knows thirst).
My horse's teeth are made of white shell.
The long rainbow is in his mouth for a bridle,
        And with it I guide him.
When my horse neighs, different-colored horses follow.
When my horse neighs, different-colored sheep follow.
        I am wealthy, because of him.

        Before me peaceful,
        Behind me peaceful,
        Under me peaceful,
        Over me peaceful,
        All around me peaceful--
        Peaceful voice when he neighs.
        I am Everlasting and Peaceful.
        I stand for my horse.

(From the Navajo)
by Dane and Mary Roberts Coolidge
in A Little Treasury of American Poetry, New York, Scribner's, 1948

No news,

just a pleasant sunny day. This morning I watched a hawk sitting on a limb grooming its feathers. With the binoculars I watched it out the kitchen window.

Yesterday the whole park was flooded by the little Cahaba-type stream running through it, as well as a good deal more of the landscape. My basement floor was wet and the yard had lots of puddles, but nothing too bad.

Last Wednesday I had a major event--the plumbers and drain cleaners had to be called and were here into the late evening cleaning things up. Of course, that plunged my psyche into the depths, and I still haven't got my head rearranged from it.

Jed came over Thursday and helped me prepare for the book signing, which I couldn't have done without him, and stayed until Sunday afternoon. Time marches so fast, I recognize the need to fill every moment with something meaningful. However, that's easier said than done. But I will try harder.

Saturday Was Fun!

They made me stand up and read poems, and recite "Marsupial Strabismus," until I started getting a little hoarse.

It really was fun. Most of the poetry group was there, both of my sisters, India and Reed, and a few others. I guess we left too early, because Mary Anne phoned yesterday and said she got there at three o'clock and the doors were locked.

 

***

Something odd has happened in my email files. I had a file named "Publishing," where I stowed all the messages between Jed and me and the printer about the book. That file has disappeared. Maybe Jed can find it.

Pour prendre conge

Found another hawk feather in the yard. This one is smaller than the one I found before.

Early Start

I woke up at 4:00, lay there another hour but couldn't go back to sleep. I've already straightened and dusted one room. If I don't do some cleaning before the day gets going full blast, it won't get done.

I planted these seeds in potting soil, and some of them came up, all except the forget-me-nots which are what I wanted most. Anyway, when all danger of freezing is over, I'm going to try planting them--somewhere--where the rain won't wash them away. Practically all the soil has washed off the area under the trees at back, and collected down in the "bottoms" at the east side of the yard. But you can't plant there because that's where all the rain drains off.

Maybe everybody with a house is over-conscious of everything that's wrong about it. In my house, one of the wrong things is the shower curtain rods. They're spring rods, and of course they won't stay up. I can't figure why whoever built the house didn't install shower rods. Seems like every time I move in one of the bathrooms, the shower curtains fall and the rod most usually hits me on the head. Then I have to drag in the step-ladder and wrestle them back into place. Also can't figure why, in all the years I've lived here, I haven't had permanent shower rods installed in those round metal thingies.

Yesterday the literary club invited me to "be" the program for their April 15th meeting, to read and sell my book. If I didn't have anything else to worry about, I could worry that I'm going to run out of books before Leeds has all it wants.

Monday Poetry Night

We had a roomful of folks at the meeting last night, and a whole bunch of good poems were read. Joe had two really excellent sonnets, and I got him to sign my copy of his recent book, Learning To Tell Time.

When I walked in the door at the Arts Council, they were right indignant that I hadn't brought some of my books to sell. So I turned around and went and got some. I sold four copies. Joe and Sherry had already got theirs on Amazon. I was glad that Sister Ramey showed up for this meeting, but she didn't bring a poem to read.

Joan, Frank, Sherry, Grady Sue, John and Linda each read one or two poems. I read "Einstein's Brain," and Grady Sue made me recite "Marsupial Strabismus."

The book signing on Saturday is turning into a real party, which will be set up in the meeting room, and Joan has emailed me a list of items to include. I guess that will be my 15 minutes of (local) fame. Now I have to shop for tablecloths, napkins, flowers, food and drink, which will be lots of fun.

And I find that I'm expected to read "lots of poems" aloud. When I talk for a while, I usually start coughing. However, I can sing all day without coughing. Maybe I can read in a singing voice, like W.B. Yeats. That ought to be a blast.