My November Guest

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My Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn rain
are beautiful as days can be;
she loves the bare, the withered tree;
she walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
she’s glad her simple worsted gray
is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate deserted trees,
the faded earth, the heavy sky,
the beauties she so truly sees,
she thinks I have no eye for these,
and vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
the love of bare November days
before the coming of the snow,
but it were vain to tell her so,
and they are better for her praise.

~ Robert Frost

So every day

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image by Rebekah Choat

 

 

So every day
I was surrounded by the beautiful crying forth
of the ideas of God,

one of which was you.

~ Mary Oliver

April Fooling

April Fooling

 image by Rebekah Choat

Shining morning turn-
i
ng to storm-
ing without warning:

pounding raining, wild
wind gusting,
thundering raging,

roaring, screaming, then
relenting,
gradual gentling,

sudden sun gleaming,
breeze sweeping
streaming clouds away. 

                        ~ Rebekah Choat

A Birthday

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My heart is like a singing bird
whose nest is in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple tree
whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
that paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;
hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
and peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes;
in leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
is come, my love is come to me.

~ Christina Rossetti

 

The Wind

I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies’ skirts across the grass —
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all —
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Labor Day Weekend

image by Rebekah Choat

image by Rebekah Choat

They say it’s the end
of the summer, the turn of
the year. The garden
pretends not to hear, stays for
just a little while longer.

~ Rebekah Choat

Traveling at Home

image by Rebekah Choat

image by Rebekah Choat

Even in a country you know by heart
it’s hard to go the same way twice.
The life of the going changes.
The chances change and make a new way.
Any tree or stone or bird
can be the bud of a new direction. The
natural correction is to make intent
of accident. To get back before dark
is the art of going.

~ Wendell Berry

Here and Now

A few weeks ago, Baby Girl the Second and I accompanied my husband on a business trip/vacation . Despite long hours in the car and the challenges of helping a nervous child navigate strange beds and unfamiliar restaurants, it was a wonderful trip.

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We saw the Independence Day fireworks over the Mississippi River in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

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In Greenville, South Carolina, BGS mustered the nerve to make it all the way to the top of the climbing structure in the Children’s Museum, I sat on the bank and put my feet in the Reedy River,

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we hand-fed bison from the safari bus, and joined a friend to watch the longest minor-league baseball game any of us had ever seen.

We saw elk just yards off the Blue Ridge Parkway as we drove to Tapoco Lodge, deep in the mountains on the North Carolina/Tennessee border. We chased fireflies beside the Cheoah River.

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We spent a beautiful day in Cades Cove, and an exciting one at Dollywood. We navigated the stretch of road known as the Tail of the Dragon – 138 crazy twists and hairpin turns in an 11-mile stretch – several times by day and once by thick dark night.

By the seventh day, Baby Girl was missing home, and I too had started thinking about the road back – and all the things to be dealt with on our return to the “real” world. But as I sat on the porch in the still of sunrise the next morning, the cool air and the trees and the goldfinches and the river all singing together brought me back to the moment, to the glorious richness of right here, this very now.

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Shadows lie ahead,
yes. But see how that branch is
dancing in the breeze,
easily bearing its own
weight, and the finches’ as well?

~ Rebekah Choat