Nighthawk - varied

ABC Wednesday
April 12th, 2017

The letter is N for Nighthawk

Here, in town, I never see this bird

but my memories recall warm summer evenings on the farm

when a community of  Common Nighthawks would swoosh down 

the road and through the orchards, gathering up the evening insects 

with their white bars flashing as they flew in graceful loops,

their sharp peenot call echoing through the twilight.

So beautiful and impressive - they were a part of our life there.

The Common Nighthawks are slender birds with very long, pointed wings,

and medium long tails.

It is well camouflaged in gray, white, buff and back

with a V shaped white throat and striking white wing bars.

When migrating or feeding over insect-rich areas

nighthawks may gather in large flocks

as they did in our orchard territory.

They are most visible when they forage on the wing

and their call is unforgettable.

At least to me.....

Mostly they fly in the mornings and the evenings.

During the day they roost on a tree branch, a fence post,

or on the ground, where they are most difficult to see.

If they were to follow south along the road for a few

miles  they would cross the US/Canada border into Washington State

and do their wonderful acrobatics in the Ghost Town

of Nighthawk which I am sure was named after them.

It is Nighthawk country....

An old mining town from the early 1900's, - it still had a general store

in the 1950's and Charles was friends with the Storekeeper,

but since that time the buildings have fallen into sad disrepair

and as far as I know the surrounding ranchers do their shopping elsewhere.

We are not finished with Nighthawk...

There is a famous painting by Edward Hopper

depicting some night hawks (or owls)

gathered around a table in an all night diner....

and a couple of poems inspired by the painting.

All sorts of planes with Nighthawk attached to them.....

There are numerous (numerous!) bands called "Nighthawk"

but the one that I enjoyed most was a Dixie Land Band.

For more interesting Ns visit here at ABC Wednesday

with many thanks to those who maintain this meme.

M forMessenger

ABC Wednesday
April 5, 2017

The letter is M for Messenger


A Mindful poem from Mary Oliver

MESSENGER

My work is loving the world,

Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird -

equal seekers of sweetness.

Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.

Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old?  Is my coat torn?

Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me

keep my mind on what matters,

which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be

astonished.

The phoebe, the delphinium,

The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture,

Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart

and these body-clothes,

a mouth with which to give shouts of joy

to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,

telling them all, over and over how it is

that we live forever.

MaryOliver

I am sorry I cannot read the signature on the watercolour of the Sunflower

and the Hummingbird, but I think it is very beautiful,

and I thank the painter....

Find more Ms here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to all who maintain this great meme.

A Post Script

Wednesday, March 29th, 2017

A Post Scrip to my previous "Loom" post.....

While leafing through the last edition of the magazine "Handwoven" looking for something which would reinforce my thoughts on using a fine white linen as warp for a silk weft, - (both yarns that languish in the top drawer of my left-overs), I came to the last page, "Endnotes".

The article, by Benjamin Krudwig, tells how he was originally drawn to be a weaver, based on the official reason and "one that covers the deeper question of why I started" weaving.

"There is also a metaphorical reason why I love weaving. 

 It is one of the greatest metaphors for life.  

We create this beautiful and unique piece of art called life, seemingly out of nothing - 

weaving relationships, experiences, and stories into a fabric 

that when viewed as a whole, becomes something. 

 We are stronger together than we are apart, 

and each of us is an integral part of this world, this community, and this life. 

 Each thread gives character to the entire fabric."

It is an ancient metaphor... many have compared weaving to life.
some in more poetic words,
but this young man is only in his twenties
and his words did give my spirit a lift.....

Ancient picture of Greek Ladies weaving a tapestry

and a moment of togetherness in the Loom Room

L is for Loom

ABC Wednesday
March 29th, 2017

The letter is L  for  LOOM

This is a Nilus LeClerc four shaft LOOM...

I have been "looming"  (WEAVING) on a loom like this for a long, long time and as a consequence have gathered an incredible amount of wool, which sometimes wakens me in the night with thoughts of whatever will I do with all that yarn!!!!

Well, here is what I did recently with a very small portion of my stash!!!

 I gathered a little pile of balls together, - chose three or four whose colours cosied up to one another and plied them through the Indian Head spinner, - then went back and chose some more, and then some more... until I had enough to create a happy warp.

I closed the LOOM room door so Callie the cat couldn't come in to assist me, - wound the warp, beamed it on the LOOM, threaded and sleyed the ends, and started to weave.

Callie and I (she sits beside me on the LOOM bench) finished off the warp in grand style, removed it from the LOOM and had that piece of fabric in the lower left corner of the picture, which Callie is inspecting for errors and places that need ends clipped and tucked!!!

Time to do the finishing bit, - washing and pressing and a little brushing!

By this time I was getting quite weary, but the light in the tunnel at the end sped me on, and we finished just before a late supper.......

 I am quite pleased, and have in my mind great plans for a couple of cones of linen and a few half balls of silk to make a pretty summer scarf.....

I love my LOOM - Callie loves my LOOM, - and who knows, someday I may get my lovely 8 shaft countermarche set up somewhere and weave on it to my heart's content!!

for more interesting Ls visit here

at ABC Wednesday

with thanks for all those who maintain this

great meme..

K is for a Kangaroo

ABC Wednesday
March 22, 2017

The letter is K for KANGAROO

The unofficial symbol of Australia

A marsupial animal

whose numbers reach over 

thirty-four million

in the harvest areas of Australia.

There are little kangaroos

who are called 'wallabies'

and even smaller kangaroos

who are called 'wallaroos'

but the regular kangaroo has large powerful hind legs, 

large feet adapted for leaping (tall buildings?)

a long, muscular tail for balancing

and a small head.

Also a pouch

in which the female carries her 'joey'.(baby)

Do you know the definition of a "Kangaroo word"?

It is a playful term for a word that carries within it a synonym of itself

such as regulate (rule) or indolent (idle) or encourage (urge)

it is also known as a marsupial or swallow word, but the term

kangaroo word was popularized by author Ben O'Dell.

here are some other examples

destruction - (ruin)

devilish (evil)

observe (see)

Masculine (male)

plagiarist (liar)

some kangaroo words have multiple "joeys"

perambulate, ramble and amble

container, can and tin

deteriorate, rot and die

routine, rote and rut

chariot, car and cart

can you think of any others....???

a good word game

and here is a nice little poem by Edward Lear

about The Duck and the Kangaroo

to amuse your tired brain.

for more ks visit here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to those who maintain 

this entertaining meme.

Jelly Beans!!

ABC Wednesdasy
March 15th, 2017

The letter is J for the fabulous Jelly Bean

Love them...

It is generally thought that the Jelly Bean first surfaced when a Boston confectioner, William Schrafft urged people to send jelly beans to soldiers during the American Civil War.

That would be about the time my Loyalist ancestors came to Canada

but I doubt if they brought the Jelly Bean with them.

Today most historians believe that the jelly bean was first linked with the celebration of Easter sometime in the 1930'.  

Who hasn't made a little nest of green confetti paper

to hold these sweet delicacies which they are going

to hide in the garden under the pretext that the Easter Bunny 

left them there for the children in the house?

The Jelly Bean comes in a myriad of colours and flavours.

Even the Harry Potter series is available on the market...

including flavours such as earwax, dirt, and pepper, -

we would hope these are only names, and the actual flavours 

are delicious and fruit based.

But who knows????

The Jelly Bean has also slang connotations.

In the electronics industry a "jelly bean" component is one which is widely

available, used generically in many applications, and has no very unusual

characteristics  (Mr. Google told me this...)

In the United States in the 1910s and 1920s a "Jellybean"

was a young man who dressed stylishly to attract women,

but had little else to recommend him!

Mr. Google told me this, too.......

Jimmie Dupre, Sam Rosen and Joe Verges wrote a song 

"Jelly Bean He's a Curbstone Cutie)

published by Universal Music Publishers

in the 1920s

and made popular in the 1940s by Phil Harris.

|

F. Scott Fitzgerald and William Faulkner's both wrote about such a character,

a dandy, or a fop....

more Js here at ABC Wednesday

(but none so delicious)

with thanks to all who maintain this great meme.

Enjoy your Jelly Beans!

Sunday Afternoon

March 12th, 2017

The Road that Beckons....

As the Cheshire cat is purported to have said to Alice,          

"if you don't know where you're going, any road will do"

I have been travelling along this dusty trail for the last few years..
the one that admonishes me to use up all my yarns,  - cottons, wools, silks, - and all those silk blouses that I saved to cut into wonderful  rainbow strips.  It has been a heavy load.....and I have stuck to it with Puritan diligence.

I have fashioned scarves and tea towels and mats, all the while contriving to use leftover bits and pieces from projects in my heyday of weaving.  At first it was a challenge, but now the range of yarns is not so inviting and the cotton warp is almost gone....

When yesterday, (as I was scrolling on the internet and as I came across the opportunity to buy the most inviting weaving kits) I had a strange reaction.  A little bit of rebellion mixed with a great longing to scrap all the leftovers and make something brand new and beautiful, - gorgeous tea towels, - lovely silken scarves, - some bamboo yarn and other exotic bits of weaving material.



If, as some of my children attest, there is a possibility (not probability) that I might live to be a hundred, then am I going to follow along the same old trail, using up the leavings of the past?   I was going to say 'dregs' but the past was really quite wonderful and what is left of it cannot be referred to in that manner.

Or am I going to make a right turn at the next leafy tree and follow the path lined with all these exciting new yarns and projects that have caught my eye(s), opened them wide, so that they see clearly a few years of perfectly harmonious activity in the Loom Room and lots of Christmas and Birthday gifts.

Well, what would you do??

Exactly, and that's just what I am going to do too!!!!

Someone at the Bargain Centre is going to love all the yarns I am going to pack in a wicker basket, maybe with some knitting needles and magazines!!!

And I am going to skip down the smiley path!!

An Irish tune

ABC Wednesday
March 8th, 2017

The letter is I for Irish (tune)

When I got married many wonderful things

expanded my views on life

and I got gathered up into a family

rich in Irish tunes

Here is one of the favourites,

sung with melancholy sometimes,

raucously at others,

depending upon the supply of Irish whiskey.

An Irish Comeallya

A "comeallya" is a good old familiar
comfortable shoe kind of Irish song
usually good for a sing-a-long

This is not a sentimental ditty, per se

and one would not expect to cry over it

but memories bring me to tears.

For more Is visit here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to all who maintain

this lovely meme

p.s.  traces of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar in this tune
you may find yourself humming it..
another "I"

H is for Happiness

ABC Wednesday
March 1st, 2017

The letter is H for Happiness

My home is awash with wicker baskets!

Some of them are stuffed with balls of wool

Or skeins of cotton,

Awaiting the loom

But many of them are full of cards.....

Birthday cards, anniversary cards, Valentine's...

All too precious to be thrown away

(by me, anyway)

Occasionally I have a lovely reflective time digging through them.

The other day I found this little book

The best things in life begin with "H"

Some dear soul gave it to me, and I pass some of the pages on to you....

May you find happiness, peace and contentment

More Hs here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to all who work to bring us ABC

Sunday again......

The sun shone yesterday and I pooh-poohed the weatherman's sly allusion to "maybe a small skiff of snow overnight", but when I woke and opened the door for Bruce's early morning foray in the garden I was dismayed to see a brand new white coverlet snugged up in the garden, and up and down the apron to the garage (which, alas, contained no car - it was out the front all frosted up).

A few years ago I would have thought nothing of this situation, but today it caused a little stir - car cleaned of snow, or a walk with cane!!!!  Only a half a block to church.....

I walked.  It was delightful.  Not cold, nice conversation with neighbours cleaning their walkways.  And by the time I came home the sun was shining again!

We are just a Worshipping Community here in what was once a thriving parish, and we rely on visiting and often retired clergy.  Our minister today was an old, old friend.  He came to our parish in the early 1950s when he was just graduating from seminary, and when I was young and involved with the Sunday School.  After a few years he went on with his career in other places, and Charles and I stayed here and farmed and continued at St. John's.  But when we all grew older and retired he came back to help us in our hour of need!!!  And he is so comfortable and his services so familiar and enduring....

We are on the cusp of Lent - Ash Wednesday on the 1st of March.  The gospel for today was from Matthew, and the Psalm a small Stone of Wisdom.

I still my soul and keep it quiet, like a child upon its mother's breast

O Lord, I am not proud; I have no haughty looks.

I do not occupy myself with great matters, or with things that are too hard for me,

But I still my soul and make it quiet, like a child upon its mother's breast; my soul is quiet within me.

And the Matthew gospel was all about the lilies of the field and the birds of the air 

and the faith that we require to avoid the anxiety and the worry about what we will drink, what we will eat, what we will wear, what will be our place, here on earth, tomorrow and in the future."so do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own.  Today's trouble is enough for today" 

Did  you know that anxiety and worry affect our longevity, and that faith and trust will add days and months and years to this wonderful experience of being alive on this earth????

Day by day, - one day at a time!

I am reminded that the stillness, the faith and the trust, - and the humility - are all part of this struggle I have with the Ego!!!

Oh, this getting old is so complex.  I have a book called "Lasting Words" - A guide to finding meaning toward the close of life".  When I first dipped into it I was too active to absorb the admonishment to relax and meditate, but now I think I am more resigned to making room for a little stillness.  

Today I am flying low and I'm

not saying a word.

I'm letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on, as it must,

the bees in the garden rumbling a little,

the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.

And so forth.

But I am taking the day off.

Quiet as a feather.

I hardly move though really I'm traveling

a terrific distance.

Stillness.  One of the doors

into the temple.

Mary Oliver  TODAY

G is for Grooks

ABC Wednesday
February 22nd, 2017

The letter is G for GROOKS

The first book (and there are many)

The Author

Piet Hein (1905-1996)

One of the most original Danes of the 20th century he was a many-sided man in the best sense.

An author, philosopher, mathematician, designer, scientist, game inventor, as well as the creator

of a new form of poetry he called "Grook".

In his philosophical writings he asserted that the great cultural divide in society was not between the haves and the have-nots, but between the knows and the know-nots - and to myself I whispered "yes, yes, yes".

"Piet Hein wrote over 10,000 grooks, most in Danish or English and published in more than sixty books....His grooks first started to appear in the daily newspaper "Politiken' in April 1940 - shortly after the Nazi occupation and under the Old Norse pseudonum "Kumbel" meaning "tombstone"

Grooks are small aphoristic verses characterized by irony, paradox, brevity, precise use of the language, sophisticated rhythms and rhymes, revealing in a minimum of words and with a minimum of lines some basic truth about the human condition."

Here are a few examples to wet your appetite.......

T.T.T.                                                                           The Road to Wisdom

Put up in a place                                                         The road to wisdom?                              
where it's easy to see                                                   Well it's plain to see
the cryptic admonishment                                            and simple to express
T.T.T.                                                                            err
                                                                                      and err
When you feel how depressingly                                 and err again
slowly you climb                                                          but less
it's well to remember that                                             and less
Things Take Time                                                         and less

On Problems

Our choicest plans

have fallen through,

our airiest castles

tumbled over,

because of lines

we neatly drew

and later neatly

stumbled over.

Today I really like this one, the February sun being loathe to appear......

PRAYER (to the sun above the clouds)

Sun that givest all things birth

shine on everything on earth.

If that's too much to demand

shine at least on this our land

If even that's too much for thee

shine at any rate on me.

More interesting Gs here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to all who have, are and will maintain

this lovely meme.

Sunday morning thoughts.....

Sunday, February 19th, 2017

Well first, the Weather Report....

The clouds are skirting the bottom of the hills and the sky is overcast and dour.  A little while ago I saw a very small patch of blue (enough to make a sailor a pair of pants, as my grandmother would say) edged in a little reflected light from the sun that lurks behind, and shines on the higher hills.

The forecast is for more of the same, - perhaps even a little snow.  But February is almost as fickle as April, and one never knows what she will cast down for us to cope with or enjoy.

I went to Penticton on Friday, and on the way home the setting sun made vision impossible - shining in the eyes and obliterating the road.

I went to Penticton with  third son and his dear wife to attend the funeral of what would have been my oldest living friend.  A very beautiful Celebration of Life, Anglican style.  With a few little modern additions much appreciated by the non-church-goers.  The Presider sang a lovely song. with guitar accompaniment, and my friend's granddaughter played a beautiful farewell lament on her violin, as well as an enchanting dance tune, for Granny.  The grandchildren did readings and prayers. The church was full.  On her 90th birthday the Arts community in Penticton paid her tribute for her years of creative contribution, both in painting and encouragement to younger painters.

Charles started Grade One with Jill.  I met her soon after we were married, in 1947.  After her husband entered the Ministry he was at St. John's for almost ten years, and in that time a friendship for life was cemented and grew stronger and dearer.

our last lunch together - ladies with canes.....

As I took part in the old familiar service I noticed that many of the congregation  participated more as spectators, and I guess it is rather a drama in some ways.

But sometimes I think that those who are not familiar with the church, - who maybe left her to go their own ways after Sunday School age, - who maybe have a slight disdain for the intellect of the people who they think believe in the "Sunday School God", (Old Man with Beard recording misdeeds) - sometimes I think that they don't realize most church-goers have advanced beyond that view and have a more mature and sophisticated image of Life and Spirituality, and "God".  And that their Services are a reminder of the morality and mysticism, of a human realization that this is probably only part of our journey......

Anyway, it was a fond and loving farewell.  And I like to think that Charles was there beside me, saying his adieu (and welcome?), to a friend who was dear to him too.  So few left.  I can count them on one hand!!

The dear old priest who gave the homily ended with the analogy of death, as a sailboat setting off from shore;  the friends and loved ones watching as it fades from view in the distance; and the friends and loved ones on the other side, waving their welcome when it comes into sight.

Comforting.....thoughts of Tennyson and Crossing the Bar passed through my mind - " Sunset and evening star/ and one clear call for me/ and may there be no moaning of the bar/ when I put out to sea......

I see a bigger patch of blue, above me, - and the clouds are billowing white in favoured places where the reluctant sun hides but sends a few rays to illuminate and tease.

I go to play the ukulele this afternoon, - how we who are left amuse ourselves, looking for pieces with easy familiar chords and tunes that echo our youth..... I found that the Chattanooga Choo Choo
is something I can manage quite nicely!!

F is for Frog and also Freakin' Fantastic Fried Rice

ABC Wednesday
The letter is F for Frogs
and F for Freakin' Fantastic Fried Rice

When one can not make up one's mind

then it falls to one to present

F in Twos....

Shall we start with Hilaire Belloc, who wrote a compassionate

poem to The Frog

1870-1953

A twentieth Century English Poet

controversial, but nevertheless praised

for his humour and poetic skill

Belloc was said to be the best English writer

of light verse 

since Lewis Carroll and Edward Lear.

Here is his poem to The Frog.....

Be kind and tender to the Frog

And do not call him names

as "Slimy-Skin" or "Polly-wog."

Or likewise "Uncle James,"

Or "Gap-a-grin".

 or "Toad-gone-wrong,"

Or "Billy Bandy-knees":

The frog is justly sensitive

to epithets like these.

No animal will more repay

A treatment kind and fair,

At least so lonely people say

Who keep a frog (and by the way,

They are extremely rare).

Hilaire Belloc's Book of Beasts,  to be followed by

More Beasts (For Worse Children)

are quite hilarious and I don't know why I have not

thought to buy them for the great-grands...

And now let me tell you about this Fantastic Fried Rice recipe

which was one of my father's creations

in his later years, when he was alone.

To get the perfect fried rice you will want to use yesterday's rice

as it will have had a chance to dry out a bit.

Let your pan warm up nicely,  It will ensure that whatever ingredients

you use will fry quickly and that each grain of rice

gets hot to the core.

Don't poke, prod or turn and make the rice all soggy,

and if you are going to add other ingredients

(like shrimp, or veggies)

cook them separately and put to one side,

adding them at the last.

You will need two to three cups of day old rice, sixteen shrimp, or thereabouts, medium sized.  

a half to one cup of red onions, and garlic if that is one of your staples.

half a cup of peas and half a cup of corn

or whatever other veggie you might have in your fridge

and a little bit of chili powder

Wash and marinate the shrimp with a tsp of chili powder and salt

for about half an hour.

In a wide mouthed pan heat 1 tsp of oil and add the onion to saute.  

mix up the peas and corn (or other veggie) and stir in....

set aside in a separate container....

Then, in the same pan heat another tsp of oil and cook the shrimp 

till it is just done.

Add the rice, check for salt, let it stay in the heat

until the rice is heated through.

Mix all together gently, and enjoy!!

My Dad was very casual about this dish

as I am, too.

All sorts of interesting things go into it.

Try some mushrooms.

And a dab of pickles.

An egg or two - oh, but that's something altogether different....

More interesting Fs here

at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to those who maintained this charming meme

in the past, who do so in the present

and plan for the future.

Turning a corner...

Thursday,  February 9th, 2017

I am glad to report that my ego is subsiding!!  And what a comfortable feeling that engenders....

It appears that things that I thought (at one time)  only I was capable of doing properly and creatively are being competently and creatively accomplished by others, with ease and aplomb!!!  How arrogant my ego must have been, (she said, shamefacedly).

I now find it is amazingly wonderful to accept this epiphany quite humbly, and to relax into lovely old age, content to read and knit and weave and muse and listen to music.  I have even gone back to a 'cleaning lady' - in my case a sweet daughter-in-law, - and a son-in-law who keeps the snow at bay and the lawns trim and neat.

What does all this mean?  Have I turned a corner and am I now ambling contentedly along the grassy path that stretches out deliciously into the future, and ends in the 'next adventure'.

Before I was REALLY old I used to keep this poem on my fridge door to remind myself of the pits the years might lead me to stumble in to.

"Lord, thou knowest better than myself that I am growing older and will soon be old. 
 Keep me from becoming too talkative,
 and especially from the unfortunate habit of thinking that I must say something 
on every subject and at every opportunity.

Release me from the idea that I must straighten out other people's affairs.
  With my immense treasure of experience and wisdom it seems a
pity not to let everybody partake of it.  
But thou knowest, Lord,that in the end I will need  a few friends.

Keep me from the recital of endless details;  give me wings to get to the point.

Grant me the patience to listen to the complaints of others;  
help me to endure them with charity.

  But seal my lips on my own aches and pains -
 they increase with the increasing years
and my inclination to recount them is also increasing.

I will not ask thee for improved memory,
 only for a little more humility and less self-assurance 
when my own memory doesn't agree with that of others.  
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong....

Keep me reasonably gentle. 
 I do not have the ambition to become a saint
 - it is so hard to live with some of them 
- but a harsh old person is one of the devil's masterpieces.

Make me sympathetic without being sentimental, helpful but not bossy.
  Let me discover merits where I had not expected them, 
and talents in people whom I had not thought to possess any.
  And Lord, give me the grace to tell them so.  Amen'

But that was in the days before I got ancient.  The days before I became so irked at the necessity of having to scroll down dreadfully far on my computer screen to fill out online forms with my year of birth.....

I am seriously thinking of giving up meetings where I have to read the minutes to know what has evolved, - especially the meeting for organizations where I pass myself off as a Secretary!!

It is so sweet when the little ones lisp, I am almost three......  not so adorable when one has to admit that they are almost ninety-three!  But it does elicit a gasp of what? Surprise? Sympathy?  A lessening of expectations?

Still, I am so glad to be rid of that dratted ego that sent me on so many wild goose chases!!!!

I have a vague feeling (not unusual these days) that I may have posted on this subject before, but there!  I am quite used to repeating myself.....

"The older I get the less I know.  It's wonderful - it makes the world so spacious."

Swami Chetanananda

Elephant

ABC Wednesday
February 8th, 2017
The letter is E for Elephant

 Here is a little offering to celebrate the elephant

in nonsense verse

Eletelephony

Once there was an elephant,

who tried to use the telephant -

No! no! I mean the elephone

Who tried to use the telephone -

(Dear me! I am not certain quite

That even now I've got it write.)

Howe'er it was, he got his trunk

Entangled in the telephunk;

The more he tried to get it free,

The louder buzzed the telephee -

(I fear I'd better drop the song

of elephop and telephong!)

Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

Laura Richards was an American writer of the late 19th century

who published more than ninety books, and was best known for the nonsense poems

 she created for children.

Laura Richard's father was Samuel Gridlely Howe, who ran the 

Perkins Institute for the Blind

where Helen Keller and Laura Bridgman were educated.

Her mother, Julia Ward Howe, 

wrote the words to the famous song

"The Battle Hymn of the Republic"

When Laura Richards grew up she and her sister

wrote a biography of their mother

that won a Pulitzer prize.

One of Richard's best books of nonsense poetry is called Tirra Lirra.

The poems use techniques like rhythm, alliteration

and startling imagery

to tell an imaginative story.

and they are downloadable.......

More great Es at ABC Wednesday here
with many thanks to all who maintain
this great meme..
in the past, in the present and in the future.

Dragons

ABC Wednesday
February 2nd, 2017

The letter is D for Dragon

"The Dragons of the mountains have scales of a golden color, and in length excel those of the plain, and they have bushy beards, which also are of a golden hue;  and their eye is sunk deep under the eyebrow and emits a terrible and ruthless glance."

Greek scholar Philostratus (cAD 170-245)

This is a Chinese New Year Dragon, parading in the streets 

in all his fiery glory.

A dragon is a mythological representation of a reptile.

In antiquity dragons were mostly envisaged as serpents

but since the Middle Ages they have grown legs

and now resemble a lizard.

And they are able to emit fire from their mouths,

as many a mythical hero has found out!

Different cultures have different stories about monsters

that have been grouped together under the dragon label.

They are often revered as representative of the primal forces

 of nature, religion and the universe

and possess some form of magic or other supernatural power.

The Dragon has not been forgotten by the poets......

Here is J.R.R. Tolkins take on dragons

as expressed through Tom Bombadil

There was an old dragon under gray stone;

his red eyes blinked as he lay alone.

His joy was dead and his youth spent,

he was knobbed and wrinkled,

and his limbs bent in the long years to his gold chained;

in his heart's furnace the fire waned.

To his belly's slime gems stuck thick,

silver and gold he would snuff and lick:

he knew the place of the least ring

beneath the shadow of his black wing.

Of thieves he thought on his hard bed,

and dreamed that on their flesh he fed'

their bones-crushed, and their blood drunk:

his ears dropped and his breath sank.

Mail-rings rang.  He heard them not.

A voice echoed in his deep grot:

a young warrior with a bright sword

called him forth to defend his hoard.

His teeth were knives, and on horn his hide,

but iron tore him, and his flame died.

Then, of course, there is Ogden Nash's version of a Dragon

Belinda lived in a little white house/with a little black kitten and a little gray mouse/and a little yellow dog and a little red wagon, and a realio, trulio,little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was ink,/and the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
and the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard/ 
but the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth; and spikes on top of him and scales underneath/
Mouth like a fireplace,chimney for a nose,/and realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears/and Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs/
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage/But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful/ Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival./They all sat laughing in the little red wagon/ at the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house/and Blink said Week! which is giggling for a mouse./Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,/ When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound/and Mustard growled,and they all looked around./
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda/ For there was a pirate climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,/and he held in his teeth a cutlass bright/his beard was black, one leg was wood/it was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled and she cried,Help! Help!/but Mustard fled with a terrified yelp / Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household/    and the little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine/Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon./With a clatter and a clack and a jangling squirm/He went at the pirate like a Robin at a Worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon. and gulped some grog from his pocket flagon./ He fired two bullets, but they didn't hit/and Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him/No one mourned for his pirate victim. |Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate/ around the dragon that ate the pyrate.

But presently up spoke little dog Mustard./I'd been twice as brave if I hadn't been flustered/ And up spoke Ink and up spoke Blink/ We'd have been three times as brave, we think../And Custard said, I quite agree/That everybody else is braver than me.

Belinda still lives in her little white house/with her little black kitten and her little gray mouse, /and her little yellow dog and her little red wagon, and her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears/and Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs/Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage/But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

And there is Puff, the Magic Dragon, but we all know about him
so will leave him for another time.

And Silverstein's.....

More Ds here at ABC Wednesday
with many thanks to all who labour at this meme,
and make it possible to go on, and on, and on....