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Oct. 12th, 2011
the elephant ears
Oct. 12th, 2011 08:06 amI'm glad I did the major surgery on the elephant ears. They look a lot better sparser and less crowded. Though, there are considerably more than a half-dozen leaves still standing, perhaps a bit over three dozen. I think this is more what Mother had in mind when she first planted the things.
I should be much braver in the spring and early summer about pruning them. It's just when they are all standing so tall and lusciously green, it's hard to cut them off and kill them, though the thick, crowded patch looks ridiculous, like us.
I should be much braver in the spring and early summer about pruning them. It's just when they are all standing so tall and lusciously green, it's hard to cut them off and kill them, though the thick, crowded patch looks ridiculous, like us.
The Mother of All Broken Promises
Oct. 12th, 2011 08:16 amI'll grab a couple of meaty paragraphs from Thomas Friedman on the Occupy Wall Street movement and the wobbling of our market-oriented democracies, how 'the system' seems to be cracking up a bit.
( Read more... )
( Read more... )
that old, basic issue
Oct. 12th, 2011 11:05 amStruggling hard this morning with that old, basic issue: how do I have no friends? How did I strike out on this isolated path in life?
Of course, the issue is always there, but it is usually latent or muted. This morning it flares up like a fire in my gut, as happens on occasion.
But I am more used to it and I know I just got to take care of the next step in this simple, mean little life with its little amusements.
I have a grocery list to make today. I want to get down an Edward Taylor poem from my college anthology sometime this afternoon. Pop is gone, so that I may turn on the computer in my room and look up a chikan video.
Of course, the issue is always there, but it is usually latent or muted. This morning it flares up like a fire in my gut, as happens on occasion.
But I am more used to it and I know I just got to take care of the next step in this simple, mean little life with its little amusements.
I have a grocery list to make today. I want to get down an Edward Taylor poem from my college anthology sometime this afternoon. Pop is gone, so that I may turn on the computer in my room and look up a chikan video.
Edward Taylor (1642-1729)
Oct. 12th, 2011 12:23 pmWe are returning for a spell to the colonial period and our Puritan poets. Edward Taylor was even a minister, and except for one poem, his poetry was never published in his lifetime. Poetry was his second life, a life’s secret, and he remained unpublished until the 1930s, when his manuscripts were discovered, almost two centuries later.
The editors speculate that he may have felt that his poems were too sensual for his culture, especially for a preacher. This is not to say that we will see an ecstatic treatment of sex or a fury of blasphemy. He was very pious, and he used poetry to exercise his faith. He obviously lived in a very stern and austere culture, and I suppose one could not be too showy and extravagant, even in expressions of piety and faith.
The poem is about the spider catching prey in its net, and you will probably enjoy it more if you know that ‘pet’ or ‘pettish’ means angry or to become angry.
( Read more... )
The editors speculate that he may have felt that his poems were too sensual for his culture, especially for a preacher. This is not to say that we will see an ecstatic treatment of sex or a fury of blasphemy. He was very pious, and he used poetry to exercise his faith. He obviously lived in a very stern and austere culture, and I suppose one could not be too showy and extravagant, even in expressions of piety and faith.
The poem is about the spider catching prey in its net, and you will probably enjoy it more if you know that ‘pet’ or ‘pettish’ means angry or to become angry.
( Read more... )
that fire in my gut
Oct. 12th, 2011 02:54 pmRemember that fire in my gut? Over the failure that is my life.
Just as I am about to go for my nap, the fire starts raging again, worse than before, a roaring fire, and I could not sleep. And I really needed that nap.
True, I had a good night's sleep, but I need my naps even then.
I am not worried about this flare up of my resenments and frustrations. I am sure they will fade away, as they always do, but I am just surprised that there should be this flash of anger today, and that it is sticking a bit, won't just quickly go away, like an erring thought. Stronger and more violent than I have known it in years.
Maybe I am just really feeling that 50 coming on, and my last reserves of youthful hopes are burning themselves up now, and once I am past this, I will be as good as an old woman.
Just as I am about to go for my nap, the fire starts raging again, worse than before, a roaring fire, and I could not sleep. And I really needed that nap.
True, I had a good night's sleep, but I need my naps even then.
I am not worried about this flare up of my resenments and frustrations. I am sure they will fade away, as they always do, but I am just surprised that there should be this flash of anger today, and that it is sticking a bit, won't just quickly go away, like an erring thought. Stronger and more violent than I have known it in years.
Maybe I am just really feeling that 50 coming on, and my last reserves of youthful hopes are burning themselves up now, and once I am past this, I will be as good as an old woman.
Where did it go?
I'm in the shower, just getting ready to shampoo, when I see another baby wasp, or so it looks like that. I got a wad of toilet paper and tried to crush it, and I suspected that I at least wounded it badly, but I couldn't see where it dropped off to. That freaked me a little.
I'm not particularly afraid when this happens. Every once in a while I come upon one of these. But aside from being small, they seem so laggard, even deranged, that killing them is a mercy, like they have been separated from the hive for too long and are deprived almost to death.
I worry more about where they come from, whether this could become a more serious problem, even a scary problem.
Maybe it's the rainy weather that drives their presence in the house. It's a bit of a periodic thing, but my memory is too poor to see the connection.
I'm in the shower, just getting ready to shampoo, when I see another baby wasp, or so it looks like that. I got a wad of toilet paper and tried to crush it, and I suspected that I at least wounded it badly, but I couldn't see where it dropped off to. That freaked me a little.
I'm not particularly afraid when this happens. Every once in a while I come upon one of these. But aside from being small, they seem so laggard, even deranged, that killing them is a mercy, like they have been separated from the hive for too long and are deprived almost to death.
I worry more about where they come from, whether this could become a more serious problem, even a scary problem.
Maybe it's the rainy weather that drives their presence in the house. It's a bit of a periodic thing, but my memory is too poor to see the connection.