"Summer afternoon." Henry James said those were the most beautiful words in the English language. I do like them and I do like a summer afternoon but if I were to choose one word instead of two, I would probably choose, "December" as it houses many of my other favorites: madrigal, advent, childe, Prince of Peace, pine (and balsam, too). The photo above has ties to Roanoke and Zionville. "Mr. Robo" was a fan purchased for the cabin long before I knew there would be grandchildren coming. He has movable arms and large red eyes that light up as he turns. The cap he is wearing is from Gone CoCo Boutique. That's a great story for a January blob. Behind Mr. Robo you can see the tote bag Cheryl Dolby created using snaps from my childhood, one of my angel drawings, an e-mail about my faith, and my mother's favorite quote from a poet friend, Althea Bass, which reads, "How could you know the way to hold me was to let me go?" However, there wasn't enough room for the "go" so she said that meant I wasn't supposed to go! Speaking of Roanoke, here is a poem from Roanoke days.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christmastide on the #51
"Happy Holidays"scrolls on the destination box.
There is talk of the Farmer's Almanac with its
predictions for tall tale snows; the early bird sales
good for finding "something nice" to leave the paper carrier;
the schedule of events at Haven of Hope; and Kwanzaa.
"It's not religious. Each day for six days starting the 26th
you give a homemade gift" reminiscent, I think, of
Twelfth Night and the festive, undulating journey of the Magi.
When did the "partridge in a pear tree" go out of fashion?
A quiet greeting. A wave. A young man laughs at my socks.
He is conversant on many topics. I tell him what I need fixing.
He smiles and suggests, conspiratorially, I ask Santa.
I know about asking. I have asked before, of Someone else.
Long ago, in a stone sanctuary where ancient plaques hung,
written in languages unfamiliar to me, lit by flickering votives
in a country seeping from war, I asked. I asked
for companions to exhort and encourage me.
One prayer. One recurring answer.
The bell rings, "Stop Requested" lights up the screen
and is echoed cheerfully by an anonymous voice.
On. Off. Rejoice. Giving, receiving, asking,
we travel along. Emmanuel. God with us.
For diverse believers and non-believers alike,
Christmas rides the #51.
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...may the blessing of transforming words be yours this December...
Glad to see you still have the tote around. I guess the saying on the front, "How did you know that the only way to hold me, was to let me go" still rings true for you. I think a better one for you would be, "a rolling stone gathers no moss."
ReplyDeleteThat's you...Mimsy in the treehouse or Christine in the shire. You are always moving on to new adventures. Also got a kick out of seeing the cap from Gone Co Co that you wore on cold days to the market.