Eleven.

When late morning rolls around, and you’re feeling a bit out of sorts, don’t worry; you’re probably just a little eleven o’clockish.

A. A. Milne, from The House at Pooh Corner

Happy Birthday, A.A. Milne

Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.

A.A. Milne, born on this day in 1882

Smackerel.

Away.

By the time it came to the edge of the Forest the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, "There is no hurry. We shall get there some day." But all the little streams higher up in the Forest went this way and that, quickly, eagerly, having so much to find out before it was too late.

There was a broad track, almost as broad as a road, leading from the Outland to the Forest, but before it could come to the Forest, it had to cross this river. So, where it crossed, there was a wooden bridge, almost as broad as a road, with wooden rails on each side of it. Christopher Robin could just get his chin to the top rail, if he wanted to, but it was more fun to stand on the bottom rail, so that he could lean right over, and watch the river slipping slowly away beneath him. Pooh could get his chin on to the bottom rail if he wanted to, but it was more fun to lie down and get his head under it, and watch the river slipping slowly away beneath him. And this was the only way in which Piglet and Roo could watch the river at all, because they were too small to reach the bottom rail. So they would lie down and watch it ... and it slipped away very slowly, being in no hurry to get there.

A.A. Milne, from The House at Pooh Corner

Tales.

THE CHARCOAL-BURNER

The charcoal-burner has tales to tell.

He lives in the Forest,

Alone in the Forest;

He sits in the Forest,

Alone in the Forest.

And the sun comes slanting between the trees,

And rabbits come up, and they give him good-morning,

And rabbits come up and say, "Beautiful morning"....

And the moon swings clear of the tall black trees,

And owls fly over and wish him good-night,

Quietly over to wish him good-night....

And he sits and thinks of the things they know,

He and the Forest, alone together—

The springs that come and the summers that go,

Autumn dew on bracken and heather,

The drip of the Forest beneath the snow....

All the things they have seen,

All the things they have heard:

An April sky swept clean and the song of a bird....

Oh, the charcoal-burner has tales to tell!

And he lives in the Forest and knows us well.

A.A. Milne

Smackerel.

Creamed herring, generously piled on a saltine, goes down the gullet.  Wrap a chunk of Pinconning cheddar in a towel, stuff it in the pocket, and off to the woods ...

That's.

If you were a bird and lived on high,

You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,

and you'd say to the wind as it took you away,

"That's where I wanted to go today."

A.A. Milne

Anywhere.

Daubigny, Spring Landscape, 1862

SPRING MORNING

Where am I going? I don't quite know.

Down to the stream where the king-cups grow-

Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow-

Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,

Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.

Where am I going? The shadows pass,

Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,

You'd sail on water as blue as air,

And you'd see me here in the fields and say:

"Doesn't the sky look green today?"

Where am I going? The high rooks call:

"It's awful fun to be born at all."

Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:

"We do have beautiful things to do."

If you were a bird, and lived on high,

You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,

You'd say to the wind when it took you away:

"That's where I wanted to go today!"

Where am I going? I don't quite know.

What does it matter where people go?

Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow-

Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

A.A. Milne

Happy Birthday, Milne

Poetry and Hums aren’t things which you get, they’re things which get you. And all you can do is to go where they can find you.

A.A. Milne, born on this day in 1886, from The House at Pooh Corner

Detector.

One does not argue about The Wind in the Willows.

Kurt has a fool-proof detector.

Compulsory.

At eighteen I went to Cambridge, and bought two pipes in a case. In those days Greek was compulsory, but not more so than two pipes in a case.

A.A. Milne, from "Smoking as a Fine Art"

Happy Birthday, Milne

Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.

A.A. Milne, born on this day in 1882

Happy Birthday, Milne

Shepard, The Original Map of the Hundred Acre Wood, 1926

A.A. Milne was born on this date in 1882.

One fine day Pooh had stumped up to the top of the Forest to see if his friend Christopher Robin was interested in Bears at all. At breakfast that morning (a simple meal of marmalade spread lightly over a honeycomb or two) he had suddenly thought of a new song. It began like this: 

    “Sing Ho! For the life of a Bear.” 

    When he had got as far as this, he scratched his head, and thought to himself “That's a very good start for a song, but what about the second line?” He tried singing “Ho,” two or three times, but it didn't seem to help. “Perhaps it would be better,” he thought, “if I sang Hi for the life of a Bear.” So he sang it... but it wasn't. “Very well, then,” he said, “I shall sing that first line twice, and perhaps if I sing it very quickly, I shall find myself singing the third and fourth lines before I have time to think of them, and that will be a Good Song. Now then:

Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear! 

Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear! 

I don't much mind if it rains or snows, 

'Cos I've got a lot of honey on my nice new nose! 

I don't much care if it snows or thaws, 

'Cos I've got a lot of honey on my nice clean paws! 

Sing Ho! for a Bear! 

Sing Ho! for a Pooh! 

And I'll have a little something in an hour or two! 

    He was so pleased with this song that he sang it all the way to the top of the Forest, “and if I go on singing it much longer,” he thought, “it will be time for the little something, and then the last line won't be true.” So he turned it into a hum instead. 

    Christopher Robin was sitting outside his door, putting on his Big Boots. As soon as he saw the Big Boots, Pooh knew that an Adventure was going to happen, and he brushed the honey off his nose with the back of his paw, and spruced himself up as well as he could, so as to look Ready for Anything.

CONNECT

Happy Birthday, Milne

A.A. Milne was born on this date in 1882.

Don't underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering.

A.A. Milne

Happy birthday, Milne.

A.A. Milne was born on this day in 1882.

It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like, "What about lunch?"

A.A. Milne

Happy birthday, Milne.

A.A. Milne was born on this day in 1882.

Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.

A.A. Milne

Blustery.

Everything.

Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.

A.A. Milne

Go.

"But it isn't easy," said Pooh.  "Because Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things that get you.  And all you can do is to go where they can find you."

A.A. Milne, from The House at Pooh Corner

Comforted.