Love this one! Saw it on Writer’s Almanac today.
Spring Evening on Blind Mountain
I won’t drink wine tonight
I want to hear what is going on
not in my own head
but all around me.
I sit for hours
outside our house on Blind Mountain.
Below this scrap of yard
across the ragged old pasture,
two horses move
pulling grass into their mouths, tearing up
wildflowers by the roots.
They graze shoulder to shoulder.
Every night they lean together in sleep.
Up here, there is no one
for me to fail.
You are gone.
Our children are sleeping.
I don’t even have to write this down.
“Spring Evening on Blind Mountain” by Louise Erdrich from Original Fire. © Harper Collins, 2003.
Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic – 2005
Saw this guy in Prague, 2005. He seemed to be doing very well for a dummy.
Published: Quarrtsiluni 2011
The word “Easter” and most of the secular celebrations of the holiday come from pagan traditions. Anglo Saxons worshiped Eostre, the goddess of springtime and the return of the sun after the long winter. According to legend, Eostre once saved a bird whose wings had frozen during the winter by turning it into a rabbit. Because the rabbit had once been a bird, it could still lay eggs, and that rabbit became our Easter Bunny. Eggs were a symbol of fertility in part because they used to be so scarce during the winter. There are records of people giving each other decorated eggs at Easter as far back as the 11th century.
Wishing you an enjoyable Easter and/or pleasant Passover.
It’s the birthday of San Francisco columnist Herb Caen, born in Sacramento (1916) whose column in the San Francisco Chronicle began in 1938, when he was 22, the year after the Golden Gate Bridge opened. He continued writing 1,000 words a day, six days a week, for almost 60 years – it was the longest-running columnist in American history. He coined the term “beatnik” in 1958, and he made the word “hippie” popular in the 1960s. He said: “I’m going to do what every San Franciscan does who goes to Heaven. I’ll look around and say, ‘It’s not bad, but it ain’t San Francisco.'”
Caen Clipping From Chronicle