A Favorite Poet

I first met the poetry of Tu Fu almost sixty years ago when I was teaching at Berkeley Prep in Tampa and one of the students (hi, Evan) lent me his copy of Chinese poems, translated by Kenneth Rexroth.

I soon acquired my own copy and I still love the poetry, especially that of Tu Fu.

By the Winding River

Every day on the way home from

My office, I pawn another 

Of my Spring clothes. Every day

I come home from the river bank

Drunk. Everywhere I go, I owe

Money for wine. History

Records few men who lived to be

Seventy. I watch the yellow

Butterflies drink deep of the

Flowers, and the dragonflies

Dipping the surface of the

Water again and again.

I cry out to the Spring wind, 

And the light and the passing hours,

We enjoy life such a little 

While, why should men cross each other?

                           Tu Fu

 

 

Dear Sirs

                              

So the iniquitous plan for the 1776 slush fund has been shelved, at least for the moment. That's good. But the Get Out of Jail Free card--added by Trump's "Justice" Department, mandating that the government be "FOREVER BARRED and PRECLUDED from prosecuting or pursuing" pending tax claims against the president, his family, or his businesses still stands.

How can this be justice?

Your president continues to milk his office for untold sums. Unlike recent presidents who have avoided trading stocks in companies whose bottom line they could influence, according to the Associate Press, during the first quarter of the year, Donald Trump ignored that precedent with more than 3,600 buy and sell orders, "many of them involving companies whose profits have been directly impacted by his decisions as head of the government."

Two more reasons this corrupt man should be removed from office.

The Pot of Gold Is Just Down the Road

 

A Dance to Die For

One collapsed beauty . . .

The last pas de deux . . .

And  the entire corps de ballet appears to have met a tragic end.

I always see fuchsia blooms as ballerinas and this is what I saw on the deck beneath my fuchsia hanging basket.

 

Rabbit, Rabbit, June Moon

 

Thankful

So thankful that Noli (Cannoli) is back! Friday evening he followed Otter and Jenny off on a little toot. They came back before dark but he didn't.

Justin went looking for him to no avail. And the next morning, still no Noli. We texted neighbors and Claui put his picture on FaceBook.

It's awful when a pet goes missing. A great heaviness descends and you imagine worst case scenarios. A neighbor mentioned having seen a bear recently and and, as the hours dragged on, that kept nagging at us. Noli is a sweetie-pie but would he have the sense to get away from a bear?

But then, oh joy, early yesterday afternoon Noli sauntered into his front yard, apparently undamaged by his night out. 

And there was great rejoicing.

Another thing I'm particularly thankful for is that,  after an operation,  my and Josie's friend Sandy has gotten some measure of relief from terrible back pain.

And, as long as I'm being thankful, the judge's order to remove the stain from the Kennedy Center is delightful. As is the news that artist after artist is declining to perform at POTUS's 250 event. Hoorah for them! 

May there be more good news soon!

 

Stalking the Red Winged Blackbird

John told me that there were red-winged blackbirds down at the pond--a bird I've not heretofore seen on our place. So yesterday afternoon we took a bottle of bubbly down  to the pond and settled in to enjoy the place and to get some photos.

There are worse places to wait . . .

And after a while, the female showed up. She looks like a big sparrow--good camouflage for someone who nests in the cattails low to the ground.

Meanwhile the male was elusive--flitting from tree to tree and once swooping close to check us out--but I wasn't quick enough with the camera to capture him.

Finally he settled on a cattail and gave us a good view of his handsome epaulets.

Another time, I'll try for the bluebirds that I've seen at this nest box when I'm driving in or out.

 

Morning Exercises

                                                      

One of the joys of being old and without too many demands on my time is that I can ease into the morning at my own pace. That is, after I've let Jenny out at seven and fed the cats and tended to their litter box. By then I'm too awake to go back to sleep so I make the bed, get dressed, and head for the living room.

John usually gets up earlier and eats his breakfast and he also makes the coffee--which is most welcome. I take a thyroid pill on arising and am not supposed to eat till an hour later--which is fine with me as I'm not hungry till around nine.

But now it's exercise time. Not aerobics (as if) or yoga or, indeed, anything physical, but mental calisthenics in the form of online puzzles. Something to limber up my mind before I tackle the news of the day.

I started with Wordle, and over time I've gotten pretty good at it. My opening word, for a long time, was ocean, which worked well until the day that it was the answer to the puzzle. Of course that was nice but it left me feeling oddly disappointed as I hadn't gotten to make any guesses.

Now my opening word is canoe --which is, of course, an anagram of ocean. Not sure what I'll do if it's the answer one day.

I've added a few other games to my morning exercises-- Waffle is one, but it's almost too easy. Connections is fun and sometimes very challenging especially when they use items from popular culture. I never watched The Simpsons or any recent television and have only a superficial knowledge of sports teams, video games, Broadway shows, and films of any sort. Still, I manage to muddle through most days.

And then there's Spelling Bee--just the thing for me--except that they don't always accept some words that I know are words--though possibly archaic or arcane. 

No Sudoku for me. I looked at it once and was totally flummoxed. I am not a number person.

My little morning routine is a pleasant way to get my brain in gear and then see what the two Heathers have to say about the latest outrages of this wretched regime. And then on to the NY Times, which, as yet, hasn't had the news that I am most hopeful for.

And so my day begins.

 

Dolce Far Niente

It's not the beach or a hideout in the backyard, but it's right pleasant for doing nothing.

 

When School Was Out

                                                       

Photo from Pixabay by leoleobobeo

Tomorrow is Josie's last day of school and it has me remembering when I was her age and the joy that summer vacation brought.

Summer meant going to the beach with my parents for a week or sometimes two. And it meant going barefoot, something I wasn't allowed to do at home for fear of hookworms. Sandcastles, drip castles, shell-collecting, jumping up and down in the gentle waves of the Gulf of Mexico, playing shuffle-board--an ubiquitous feature of beach rentals, watching pelicans glide in dignified files just above the waves . . . the beach back then in the early Fifties was full of delights and there were no towering condominiums.

And the rest of the summer stretched out before me in a warm haze . . . playing outside with the kids on the block till lightning bugs rose up out of the grass and mothers began to call us home in spite of our protests that it wasn't dark yet and we could still see, riding my bike, reading Oz books and Nancy Drew in my hideout under a bush in the yard . . . no classes, no planned activities, no schedule . . . it was a time of dolce far niente--the sweetness of doing nothing.

Japanese Iris

After the Siberian and the Bearded Iris have called it a day, the Japanese Iris are a pleasant sight. At one time I had three or four different ones but, at the moment, this seems to be the only survivor. 

And very welcome it is!

 

Remembering . . .

                                         

 

Turkeys (non-political)

These two toms were showing off for two apparently unimpressed hens,