November 2019

S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

April 15th, 2007

intertext: (bujold reputation and honor)
Sunday, April 15th, 2007 08:44 am
No - I'm not talking about Kurt Vonnegut.

June Callwood was one of the greats. If I'd been asked to name one of my heroes of any kind, but particularly a hero who was a Canadian, a woman, a feminist, a humanitarian, just an all round terrific person, June Callwood would be at the top of my list. Her energy, her humour (I think I seldom saw a photo of her when she wasn't laughing or smiling widely, and she didn't always have lots to smile about), her passion for causes made her a shining example for those of us who just trundle along trying to do the right thing. She was one of the good guys.

She died yesterday at the age of 82. Read more
intertext: (clouds)
Sunday, April 15th, 2007 12:10 pm
Approaching a Significant Birthday,
He Peruses The Norton Anthology
of Poetry



All human things are subject to decay.
Beauty is momentary in the mind.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
And somewhat of a sad perplexity.
Here, take my picture, though I bid farewell,
In a dark time the eye begins to see

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall—
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
What but design of darkness to appall?
An aged man is but a paltry thing.

If I should die, think only this of me:
Crass casualty obstructs the sun and rain
When I have fears that I may cease to be,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain

And hear the spectral singing of the moon
And strictly meditate the thankless muse.
The world is too much with us, late and soon.
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze.

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.
Again he raised the jug up to the light:
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.

Downward to darkness on extended wings,
Break, break, break, on thy cold gray stones, O sea,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
I do not think that they will sing to me.

R.S. Gwynn


I could start a meme trying to guess the source of all these lines. I can get about half of them... maybe. Maybe a third...
intertext: (maple leaf)
Sunday, April 15th, 2007 07:05 pm
Mill Hill Wildflowers

Today the sun was shining, so I took the opportunity to drive out to Mill Hill and explore. It was peak time for wildflowers. I saw:
cammas
shooting stars
erythronium
calypso orchids
yellow violets
trilliums
speedwell
toadflax
and other things that I'm not sure of the name of.

The dogs and I had a good hike, and I took lots of photos. Now they are snoozing as I write this, and I am very tired and my non bionic hip is aching slightly, but it was a good walk.