S is for Swift

ABC Wednesday
November 16, 2016

The letter is S, for SWIFT

Monday morning I awaken full of enthusiasm for working in the Loom Room.

I have a naked loom which must be dressed, and the first task is to turn skeins into balls that I can wind a warp with.

I use my UMBRELLA SWIFT

and while I am busy doing this humdrum task my mind wanders to other things I must do today.....ABC wednesday flits through my mind, - along with S, - for the Swift I am using,... for the bird who lives mostly in flight....for the essay and satirist, Jonathan Swift.  I am on to something!!!!

The Swifts are the most aerial of birds and the larger species are among the fastest fliers in the animal kingdom.  Even the Common Swift can cruise at 70 mph.  Compared with typical birds swiftlet wings have proportionately large wingtip bones and by changing the angle between the wingtip bones and the forelimb bones they are able to alter the shape and area of their wing, maximizing their efficiency and maneuverability.  Like the hummingbird they are able to rotate their wings from the base.

They have a short forked tail and very long swept-back wings that resemble a crescent or a boomerang.  Most of their lives they spend in the air, - catching insects on the fly and even sleeping aloft.
The nests of many species is glued to a vertical surface with saliva, and the genus Aerodramus use only that substance, which is the basis for bird's nest soup. Over harvesting of this expensive delicacy has led to a decline in the numbers of these swifts.  Remember that when next you order Bird's Nest Soup...

The other Swift I am familiar with is Jonathan, the essayist, satirist, political writer and clergyman.  He was born in Dublin on November 30th, 1667.  His father died two months before he was born and as a consequence his mother, hoping to give him every chance possible, gave him over to Godwin Swift, her late husband's brother, and an attorney.  After an impressive education Jonathan Swift turned to writing and to the priesthood.  His first political pamphlet was titled A discourse on the Contests and Dissentions in Athens and Rome. Further writing earned him a reputation in London and the Tories asked him to become editor of the Examiner, their official paper.  After a time he became fully immersed in the political landscape and began writing some of the most cutting and well-known political pamphlets of the day,  When the Tories fell from power Swift returned to Ireland and took the post of dean at St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin.

While leading his congregation at St. Patrick's Swift began to write what would  become his best known work, Gulliver's Travels.  The book was an immediate success and hasn't been out of print since its first run,  which is quite a record!!

Gulliver's Travels is an adventure story involving several voyages of Lemuel Gulliver, a ship's surgeon, who, because of a series of mishaps en route to recognized ports, ends up instead on several unknown islands living with people and animals of unusual sizes, behaviors, and philosophies, but who, after each adventure, is somehow able to return to his home in England where he recovers from these unusual experiences and then sets out again on a new voyage. Here is a little taste of his first voyage, and if you haven't read Gulliver's Travels yet find a copy and find out about his adventures with the Brodnagians, and others.

More interesting Ss here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise and Leslie

as well as their Super helpers

(The Super Moon is shining down upon me as I write this)

Sunday Afternoon

Sunday, November 13th, 2016

I was up early..

Caught the morning rising of the sun and the pink clouds he scattered in his wake; 

showered, fed Bruce and Callie 

and settled down to a breakfast of toast, peanut butter and honey.

I examine the contents of the peanut butter jar, taking stock with the grocery list in mind.  At one time I didn't often eat peanut butter - it was a standby for making a sandwich for Charles (who loved it) when I was 'out to lunch with the ladies'. 

Now I watch as this smooth brown comfort food disappears from the jar, and enjoy it with my memories....

I keep on the breakfast table books that are easy to delve into momentarily, to read and enjoy as I eat.  Present literary company is a collection of short stories by Anne Enright, and Mary Oliver's compelling 'Upstream" essays (which I find hard to put down...)

I am coming to the end of Mary Oliver (although nothing says I cannot flip the pages and start over again from the beginning!)  The paragraphs on 'Winter Hours' is particularly relevant  to my habitual early rising.  A cameo - "winter walks up and down the town swinging his censer, but no smoke or sweetness comes from it" and I think of how it will be in a few short weeks when the leaves are all gone, and the frost is bitter in that dusky time before the sky lightens and the sun returns for his brief mountain-limited visit to the valley in December...

Here at the back door we have not yet reached that time of the year, and the rowan tree still clings to its radiant funeral garb.

A morning at church, home for lunch, a visit from my daughter as we watch those nice athletic young men in a curling championship on T.V. and soon it will be time for Radio City and Brahms Requiem with the Vienna Philharmonic and the legendary Herbert von Karajan conducting.  Kathleen Battle is the female soloists and my clock has just struck three, so I must leave my wanderings here and go to listen....I am not over the moon when it comes to Requiems, but love Kathleen Battle!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Well, it was beautiful and serene and I knitted a few inches on a nice lacy scarf I am making....

While I watched daylight disappeared and we are well into the long, November evening.

Time to forage in the fridge and see what would make a satisfactory omelet
for a Sunday night supper.......

Love and Remembrance

November 11th, 2016

Remembrance Day

As I prepare to attend Remembrance Day services

in the morning

I remember especially with love

My father

who squeaked into the lines

of the 31st Battalion

despite his young age,

and was wounded at Cambrai

on the 11th of October, 1918

My darling husband,

and the band of brothers

who were his crew -

those men who kept the bond close

for seventy years

until death came to each of them.

My two brothers-in-law

who I never met,

and who left a void in their families' lives

when they were killed;

one at Falaise,

and the other in the Hochwald Forest.

We visited their graves when

we traveled to Europe in 1995...

Charles carrying a small rock from the

hills of home which he had 

embedded in a plaque and

attached to their graves

 - a bit of home to keep them company

as they lay at rest far

from those who loved them best.

As the service progresses, and we come to the 

Reading of the Names of the Fallen

my heart catches

and I hear echoes of my 

dear one's voice

as he called the names over the years...

I am grateful that there are no sons' names

to add to the list of

the bravest and best.....

Rooster

ABC Wednesday
November 9th, 2016

The letter is R for Rooster

A sad tale....

A sky blue rooster proudly shines..

A fox's dream comes true

More Rs here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie

and their resolute helpers

who come to visit.

Sunday Afternoon

November 7th, 2016

It was yesterday -  Sunday afternoon, -  and I was late tuning into 

Radio City on Knowledge Network.

It is one of the highlights of my Sunday, and how could I have forgotten -
should I blame the time change???
We have said goodbye to Daylight saving and now it is lighter in the morning,
 but darkness falls earlier and the evenings are long.

In any event, I did join Radio City soon after the program started 

and was delighted with the Orchestrae de Paris
as they performed Mozart and Haydn, 

and most especially with the legendary pianist,
Menahem Pressler.

At 92, and the survivor of a threatening aneurysm, his performance 

was amazing and impressive.  

I believe the program was recorded in the past, 

and perhaps at that time he may have been only 90 years of age,

 but there was a sweet smile as he played,

 and his lips moved in concentration as he lived the music. 

 And what's a couple of years after all those decades...?  

Well, I can tell you, there is a difference, and I speak from experience..  

two years ago I could operate a can opener, 

but now I am on the look-out for an electric appliance 

that requires one only to press a button!!

For an encore Pressler played Debussy's Claire de la Lune.
He smiled a lot at the audience,
and I smiled a lot with pleasure
and the chance to hear him perform....

Here is a short video of him making his debut with the Berlin Philharmonic in 2014 

  Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 17.

I knitted a bit while I watched, and sighed contentedly when it was over.

There was still a little time before supper,
so I picked up the book that I am trying to finish before a

Monday night meeting of the Book Club
where we will be discussing "The Pearl that broke its Shell" by Nadia Hashimi,
- a generational story portraying Afghanistan
'in all its perplexing, enigmatic glory'.

An absorbing and troubling book, when one considers
that the lives of some of the women in Afghanistan
are fraught with male domination and sometimes cruelty.  

As I read towards the end of the book
I am comforted by the indications
 that change is happening in the cities
and perhaps even in the villages as women grow more courageous 

and men more enlightened. 

I still have 62 pages left to read,
 and my thoughts to put into order....

"Nadia Hashima left Afghanistan in the 1970's
and was raised in the United States.
In 2002 she visited Afghanistan for the first time
with her parents".

She is a pediatrician and lives with her family
 in suburban Washington D.C.

November 4th, 2016

After my pitiful whinging

about melancholy, dismal November

my youngest son sent me this photo,

retrieved from a friend's Facebook..........

the path along the Similkameen River

In November

so how can I continue to be despondent about this month

that has many sad remembrances

but is still beautiful

and still filled with lovely and meaningful things....

I just took a pretty casement-lace silk scarf off the loom

woven with precious balls of fragile silk

I have been saving for years,

and now the loom is empty and looking for the next warp

to dress its lovely limbs!!

Our eldest son and daughter-in-law came to

have dinner with me

and brought flowers

and fridge art...

Whilst making room for this intricate adult colouring

I took a few quips and quotes off the fridge, and amongst them

a little blue pencilled observation

from Fredelle E. Maynard's book,

The Tree of Life (p245)

"My parents have died, the love of my youth has died.

I am at the top of the tree, beyond the fruiting branches.

But I am still here, looking skyward...."

It was attached to an aged and yellow sheet, defining Maturity.

Maturity is the growing awareness that you are neither wonderful nor hopeless.

It has been said to be making of place between what is and what might be.

It isn't a destination.

It is a road.

It is the moment when you wake up after some grief or staggering blow

and think, I'm going to live after all.

It is the moment when you find out something you have long believed in

isn't so, and parting with the old conviction

find that you are still you.

The moment when you discover somebody can do your job as well as you can,

and go on doing it anyway.

The moment you do the thing you've always been afraid of.

The moment you realize that you are forever alone, but so is everyone else,

and so in a way you are more together than ever.

And a hundred other moments when you find who you are.

It is letting life happen in its own good order

and making the most of what there is.

I was glad to read this again...how many times have I opened the fridge door

and it has been so inconspicuous to me,

but now I read it once again, as I first did when I found it

and put it there.

Life is discovery and re-discovery, and all of it good.

Q for Quartet

ABC Wednesday
November 2nd, 2016
The letter is Q for QUARTET

Here is a Visual delight, as well as an Audio pleasure 

from Carmen, Habanero

for more Qs click here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise and Leslie.

Alfred East

Even if something is left undone

everyone must take time to sit still and

watch the leaves turn.

Elizabeth Lawrence

The lane where Bruce and I go walking these days is awash with scarlet and yellow leaves,

 -  and walnuts fallen from the great, old walnut trees the neighbour cherishes,  

(the fruit of which I gather and prepare to glaze for Christmas...)

The leaves fall patiently.

Nothing remembers or grieves.

The river takes to the sea 

the yellow drift of leaves...

Sara Teasdale

In the orchards, and the hills, and along the river banks

there is nothing but the golden glow of Autumn

to carry us forward into the sombre gloom 

of November.

I hate to say that, but November is not my favourite month.

So much sadness, so much dreariness.

so much heartache.

But between now and the first of November we have that delightful

(and overly commercialized) celebration of All Hallow's Eve.

I have my candy and my witches hat all ready, but who knows

how many little goblins will visit down the street.

I was going to make carmelized popcorn balls

but my daughter told me they would just be thrown away

when the little goblins got them home.

There is such a fear among parents of needles and razor blades 

and sometimes I wonder what

that fear is doing to us as a society....

Will we eventually lose our confidence and our sense of derring-do

and adventure

and if we do will it be a result of the media and too much reliance on government????

Oh dear, time to put fear away and go and look at glorious October..

November will come soon enough.

George Eliot says..."Delicious autumn!  My very soul is wedded to it,

and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking

the successive autumns."

Friday, October 28th, 2016

A remembrance of beautiful days, wonderful years

and glorious falls...

Looming weather report...

Miserable weather today, - no, I shouldn't say that.
A warm, rainy day that may have got everyone wet
but was a good excuse to dig out the umbrella in this dry and arid country,

 and slop along in the puddles

However, the trees and the hills were sombre and misty.

and the clouds hung low along the river bottom.

But YESTERDAY!!!

I had cards to mail - great grandson has a Halloween birthday and a great-great niece recently married.  I scooped up the camera and my Ipad as I left for the post office, and duties done there I headed the car south to the river, where the sun was blessing the trees with 

the most glorious golden  aura.

Old haunts with my darling, and I had a little conversation with him about how the early fall was so dry, and the leaves so drab, but the rain has renewed their palette to its usual brilliance.

Today I went singing, somewhat saddened by the sudden and unexpected passing of one of our most friendly and kind choir members.

Tonight I have been looming, - sleying that lovely narrow silken scarf through the reed.  Shall I go back and finish it before I go to bed??

I am tempted....

Fridge Wisdom

ABC Wednesday
October 26, 2016

The letter is P for PRAYER/POEM

Here is one that lives its life attached to the front of my fridge!!

LET me do my work each day, and if the darkened hours of despair overcome me,

may I not forget the strength that comforted me in the desolation of other times.

MAY I still remember the bright hours that found me walking over the silent hills of my

childhood, or dreaming on the margin of the quiet river, when the light glowed within me, 

and I promised my early God to have courage amid the tempests of the changing years.

SPARE me from bitterness and from the sharp passions of unguarded moments.

MAY I not forget that poverty and riches are of the spirit.

THOUGH the world know me not, may my thoughts and actions be such as shall 

keep me friendly with myself.

LIFT my eyes from the earth, and let me not forget the uses of the stars.

FORBID that I should judge others, lest I condemn myself.

LET me not follow the clamor of the world, but walk calmly in my path.

GIVE me a few friends who will love me for what I am; 

and keep ever burning before my vagrant steps the kindly light of hope.

AND though age and infirmity overtake me, 

and I come not within sight of the castle of my dreams, 

teach me still to be thankful for life, 

and for time's olden memories that are good and sweet;

AND may the evening's twilight find me gentle still.

Max Erhmann

For more interesting Ps click here to visit
ABC Wednesday, with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie
and their proficient partners.

Sunday, the 23rd of October.

Another gorgeous day weatherwise, but as dusk falls and Bruce and I go walking, we note that the trees have lost the glow they had during the sunny hours, and have been saddened to that sombre melancholy that haunts us in the fall, sometimes.

The clouds have gathered and covered the blue of the sky and we can expect a rainy night. And that is just fine as the aquifer in this semi desert country is in need of being refreshed after a long, hot summer.

Church was confusing because of a mix-up in bulletins and the first Sunday with our "dedicated" priest...we are a Worshipping Community here, attached to St. Saviours in Penticton, and we welcome  someone who will visit our aging congregation and care facilities.  It was humorous, too, in that Kim (new priest) is a great people person with a marvelous sense of humour.  Uplifting!!  We talked about the Tax Collector and the Self-Righteous Pharisee and their counterparts in the modern world....

By the time I had attended to my Altar duties everyone had left, and the flowers which were given to us after a funeral tea reception still needed a home.  So I brought them along with me.....

After a bit of lunch and a little R and R (I think I closed my eyes awhile) I took a dip into Mary Oliver's new book of beautiful and thoughtful essays, "Upstream" in which she takes us into the natural world which she always describes with such love, and caring, and beauty.

And then I went to inspect that poor begotten warp that was so long on the loom and has such a plethora of mistakes and dropped threads.  But still beautiful after I machine-washed it..

...and cut it into the appropriate pieces,

pressed them, ironed up the hems and folded them

...and now you can't see all the errors because they are cunningly hidden in the folds!

I will cherish them, and the memories of all those blasted knots I tied,

and I will use them in my own kitchen.

By the time I did all this it was supper time, and now it is time to go and

make a cup of hot chocolate and see what's on Netflix!!!

Up Dating

I have been waiting these last few months, poignantly,

waiting for Inspiration to come to call.

But she, it seems, has other fish to fry....

It has become apparent that unless I want Daybyday to fade away, - 

kept alive only by weekly posts to

ABC Wednesday,

then drastic action is called for.

Well, this is not really drastic action;

just a promise to myself to record each day

as it happens,

and no better time to start than NOW...

So what happened on this really beautiful autumn day!!!

The trees glowed, the sun shone and the sky was that brilliant blue
that only October indulges in.

While I had breakfast I poured over an old Handwoven  magazine
I had come across while making order out of chaos last week -
filing more than thirty years of Handwoven with my eye
cast out for an exciting new warp to put on the loom, -

there being only about fifteen inches left to weave
on that old warp which has clung to the loom now for almost a year.
The dummy warp wherein I chose to  tie three hundred or so
knots from it to the warp-before-it - thinking that I was
saving time threading through heddles and reed.

A lovely idea when you are young and lithe, but an eater up of
time and patience when your fingers have lost their dexterity.

I finished weaving the old warp;  just for a moment
Inspiration passed by and planted a seed....

As a consequence I am starting to wind the warp for a lacy silk scarf
with a gorgeous stash of fine silk I fell heir to many years ago
when a weaving friend died at 95.

After lunch I went to the church to set up the altar and the communion
for Eucharist tomorrow.
This time I remembered to take my music with me, and spent an hour
at the organ, whose stops were all askew and need fixing.

I don't have a lot of opportunities to play the organ any more.
Mainly funerals, where people ask for me especially.
Sometimes I wish the regular organist would share her duties with me,
but I know she believes she is lessening the burden
for an old lady!!!!

In my email today a sweet picture from a friend who hikes in the hills

reminded me of the Downy Woodpecker
that haunts the evergreens bordering my fenceline
and tap, tap, taps for bugs and slugs.

That's all for today!

Obernkitchen Children's Choir

ABC Wednesday
October 19th, 2016

The Letter is O for The OBERNKIRCHEN CHILDREN'S CHOIR

In Germany the Obernkirchen Children's Choir

is called

Schaumburger Marchensanger. 

translated as Schaumburger's Fairy Tale Singers.

The choir was founded by Edith Moller and Ema Pielsticker in 1949

for war orphans.

The choir received an invitation to participate

in the "international Eisteddfod" 

a choir competition in Llangollen, Wales.

They won first prize!

In 1953 a BBC radio broadcast of the choir's winning performance

of the song

Der frohliche Wanderer (The Happy Wanderer)

at the Llangollen International Musical Eisteddfod

turned the song into an instant hit.

It stayed on the UK Singles Chart for 

twenty-eight consecutive weeks.

They made two appearances on the Ed Sullivan Show 

in 1964 and 1966.

The choir still exists today 

with new generations of singers continuing the work of its pioneers

The Old Steam Train

recorded in 1974

and a more challenging piece of music

by Rossini

More fascinating Os here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie

and all their observant and obedient

helpers.....

Nigel Kennedy

ABC Wednesday
October 12  2016

The letter is N for Nigel Kennedy

Before David Garrett

there was Nigel Kennedy

and although both of them are fabulous violinists

I know each note of  Nigel Kennedy

and Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D Major

 (which I believe he recorded before 

he stopped for a period

making public appearances).

Anyway, I have had this CD for many long years

and the notes have wafted through the house

while I did dishes, made beds,

swept the floor, and all the other things 

home makers do....

at the same time I was listening to his marvelous recording

of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, which added to his fame and reputation.

Both Garrett and Kennedy are inclined to exotic clothing

and exotic hair styles, but their music is heavenly.

I found a Youtube recording that gives testament 

to Nigel Kennedy's versatility,

wherein Bach flows into Jazz...

Wonderful!!

But more poignant is this lovely

spine chilling rendition of

Danny Boy

More interesting Ns at ABC Wednesday, here, 

with thanks

to Roger, Denise, Leslie and their notable helpers.

M for Mariachi Music

ABC Wednesday
October 5th, 2016

The letter is M for Mariachi Music

Mariachi is a genre of music that originated

in the State of Jalisco, 

in Western Mexico.

It is an integration of stringed instruments influenced by the cultural impacts
 of the historical development of Western Mexico, and throughout the history
of mariachi musicians have experimented with
brass, wind and percussion instruments.

The Mariachi ensemble generally consists of violins, trumpets, a
classical guitar, a vihueta (high pitched five string guitar)
a guitarron (large acoustic bass) and sometimes a harp or two.

The original Mariachi were street musicians, or buskers.

Now they dress in silver studded charro outfits with wide brimmed hats and many
are professional entertainers doing paid gigs.

The term "Mariachi" is said to be an adaption of the French word for marriage
as this type of musical formation used to play at such events.

Here is a stirring example of this music that
has become emblematic of Mexican music...

 

For more interesting Ms muscle your way over to
ABC Wednesday, here, 
with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie
and all musical helpers.

The First of October

The days grow shorter....

It is dark when I waken and I am tempted to turn and snuggle in the warmth of the bed, until I think of Bruce's bladder, and up I rise, calling to him to come and greet the day.  He's a sweet dog, and wakes with a smile and great enthusiasm as he lifts his leg!!!

The garden is toying with the idea of slumber, but you know how it is, preparing to go to bed.  It doesn't all happen at once, and so we are spending pleasant hours outside these days, Callie and Bruce and I, dead-heading, gathering up barrow loads of compost material, saving seeds of the nicotiana and finding a spot for the potted foxgloves that didn't bloom this year, but surely will next summer.

I am making a pot pourri of garden herbs, drying them slowly and then sieving them as needed.

In the meantime the garden goes about its business - the fall flowers bloom profusely.  Especially the asters whose blossoms swarm with bees when they open to the sunshine in the morning...

I am continually snipping off yellow daisies who have done their thing, and now grow old and dry and withered as old things (and people) are wont to do.....  The blooms that take their place are smaller, but never ending.....

The lilies and the peonies have donned their autumn colours....

but look - the honeysuckle is in bloom again...

and at irregular intervals the lovely chinese lantern

marks the spot where the chinese rail line has 

established a station....

Mister Lincoln has raised his stove pipe hat and seven feet in the air

three rich red blossoms start to open against the blue of the sky.

Callie sits on the stump of the pussy willow tree that was taking over the garden,

looking through the cutch grass that grows just outside our fence. -

probably not as frustrated as I am inclined to be -

too interested in the neighbourhood kitties that wander down the lane.

The sedum and the chrysanthemums are saving themselves for October, when

the trees turn golden and scarlet and bronze

and the sky a brilliant blue.

Soon, soon, soon I must take a trip to Cawston and to Ginty's pond...

Maybe tomorrow!

The Loon

ABC Wednesday
September 28th, 2016

The letter is L for Loon

The Loon

Not quite four a.m. when the rapture of being alive

strikes me from sleep, and I rise

from the comfortable bed and go

to another room, where my books are lined up

in their neat and colourful rows.  How

magical they are!  I choose one

and open it.  Soon

I have wandered in over the waves of the words

to the temple of thought.

And then I hear

outside, over the actual waves, the small,

perfect voice of the loon.  He is also awake,

and with his heavy head uplifted he calls out to the fading moon, to the pink flush

swelling in the east that, soon,

will become the long, reasonable day.

Inside the house

it is still dark, except for the pool of lamplight

in which I am sitting.

I do not close the book.

Neither, for a long while, do I read on.

Mary Oliver

or this......

The Loon on Oak-Head Pond

cries for three days, in the gray mist

cries for the north that it hopes it can find

plunges, and comes up with a slapping pickerel,

blinks its red eye

cries again

you come every afternoon and wait to hear it,

you sit a long time, quiet, under the thick pines,

in the silence that follows,

as though it were your own twilight, 

as though it were your own vanishing song.

Mary Oliver,  (again)

For more great Ls visit here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie

and their lovely helpers.

K is for Kingfisher

ABC Wednesday
September 21st, 2016

The letter is K for Kingfisher

The Kingfisher

The kingfisher rises out of the black wave

like a blue flower.  In his beak

he carries a silver leaf.  I think this is

the prettiest world - so long as you don't mind

a little dying.  How could there be a day in your

whole life

that doesn't have its splash of happiness?

There are more fish than there are leaves

on a thousand trees, and anyway, the kingfisher

wasn't born to think about it, or anything else.

When the wave snaps shut over his blue head, the

water

remains water - hunger is the only story

he has ever heard in his life that he could

believe.

I don't say he's right.  Neither

do I say he's wrong.  Religiously he swallows the

silver leaf

with its broken red river, and with a rough and

easy cry

I couldn't rouse out of my thoughtful body

if my life depended on it, he swings back

over the bright sea to do the same thing, to do it

(as I long to do something, anything) perfectly.

Mary Oliver

For more interesting Ks click here to visit

ABC Wednesday

with many thanks to

Roger, Denise, Leslie

and all keen helpers. 

J is for Jewels.

ABC Wednesday
September 14, 2016

The letter is J for Jewels

And here is a pretty, romantic poem by Sara Teasdale, entitled "Jewels"

If I should see your eyes again,
I know how far their look would go --
BAck to a morning in the park
With sapphire shadows on the snow.

OR back to oak trees in the spring
WHen you unloosed my hair and kissed
The head that lay against your knees
In the leaf ahadow's amethyst,

And still another shining place
We would remember - how the dun
Wild mountain held us on its crest
One diamond morning white with sun.

But I will turn my eyes from you
As women turn to put away
The jewels they have worn at night
And cannot wear in sober day

For more Js click Here to visit ABC Wednesday,
with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie
And all their Jolly helpers

Irish Music

ABC Wednesday
September 7th, 2016

The Letter is I for Ireland

and here is a little Irish Music to set your toes a-tapping

more interesting takes on the letter I here

at ABC Wednesday, 

with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie 

and all irrepressible helpers