Tuesday, April 15, 2014


far afield

Well, what a time it's been.  Last week a beloved older relative of ours died - this was not completely unexpected but remains a shock.  And this week a beloved younger relative of ours needed help navigating a life transition.  Without going into unnecessary detail, this contrast of young and old has been quite stark.  I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a big field, watching one crop being scythed ahead of me and a new crop being sown behind me.  Middle age, is this what it's like?  Everywhere I look I seem to see some sort of memento mori.  That's life, I guess.  Thus I am considering taking to my bed.  With a stack of books and possibly some snacks.  Back soon (maybe).      

Happy Easter, Sarah.

Burning Leaves in Spring By Christopher Morley

WHEN withered leaves are lost in flame
Their eddying ghosts, a thin blue haze,
Blow through the thickets whence they came
On amberlucent autumn days.

The cool green woodland heart receives
Their dim, dissolving, phantom breath;
In young hereditaty leaves
They see their happy life-in-death.

My minutes perish as they glow-
Time burns my crazy bonfire through;
But ghosts of blackened hours still blow,
Eternal Beauty, back to you!

So beautiful. Thank you.
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