new kitchen towels 🙂☺️
The Year Begins with a Scare
Excited to suddenly find recordings on YouTube of Edna St. Vincent Millay reading her poetry aloud herself, I decided to play the one on the blog for my cat Peeko one night since she’s been his favorite poet out of ones he’s heard, and like me, he’d never heard her read.
As soon as the poem began to play, Peeko walked directly and hurriedly right to the coat closet and stood there looking slightly up, with an alert expression, tail swinging gently, (and he’s heard other recordings of other people or shows before and seemed not to care.) Meanwhile, I am saying affectionately, ”Edna’s not in there; this is a recording of her reading her poems I’ve read to you.” When the poem was winding down, Peeko turned around and naturally walked away from the closet like nothing ever happened…
He likes now to recline in the same room as me across the room a distance away, to gaze at me with affection as he falls asleep for his mid-morning into afternoon siestas; I was in my new library corner near the window in my little antique chair for this one.
An Avalanche of Books and An Angel
I set up new books I got as gifts after a late Christmas celebration (These books were awaited with gratitude and selected by me in a public wishlist registry style, along with a few other things, over time, a gift strategy I love) on the highest shelf.
I stepped back to admire the shelf when all the books rushed forward and crashed into the newest angel, flinging her against the back wall of the bookcase. She was steadied with her great golden wings securing her upright, as I lifted her up, carefully stacked the books over again, set her in place, and ordered some bookends; now I understand why there is a such thing as these.
She showed no injuries. I’m showing a bookend (they are a matching set) in the below photo, as the highest shelf with new and unread books I’ll keep as a surprise for now.
Entertainers Still Bringing Fire with Aries Author, Unexpectedly Hooked By First Poetry Read
A poetry book that had me hooked from the first poem, New Hampshire by Robert Frost (1924) library edition, with charming whimsical woodcut illustrations by J.J. Lankes. The book was recommended in a way by my father in law, Dave who had often remembered a poem he’d read by Frost as especially good even as he wasn’t specifically into reading poetry books himself. I decided to look up the collection the poem was in and happened to begin the somewhat slim book on the night of first frost at home in Massachusetts and finished it in only 3 days.
Robert Frost was often portrayed as simplistically motivational, but reading a full collection, I see that would be a False Frost…he was really a very wonderful slob.
I will have more to share next time…
I bet being from Massachusetts, he liked to get the Boston readers riled up with this obvious non-purely-New England dedication in a book he’d titled New Hampshire, would win a Pulitzer, with some fresh poetic insults, himself nicely contained within the opening poem that sets the stage for the rest, and so with a quick glance one might be fooled…
“Nothing gold can stay,” a more serious poem in the collection reads, a popularly cited one written by Frost…But I think of the little pink cloud I saw early morning and sent a kiss toward… and in an instant quicker than I could notice myself, the pink spread across the sky glowing with such majesty, like this…😊
It might not be gold; it might be silver, or pink, or green; it might expand before it goes; it might just happen to match you…or your blog.