Up-Raise.

Down with the rosemary and bays,

Down with the misletoe;

Instead of holly, now up-raise

The greener box, for show.

The holly hitherto did sway;

Let box now domineer,

Until the dancing Easter-day,

Or Easter's eve appear.

Then youthful box, which now hath grace

Your houses to renew,

Grown old, surrender must his place

Unto the crisped yew.

When yew is out, then birch comes in,

And many flowers beside,

Both of a fresh and fragrant kin,

To honour Whitsuntide.

Green rushes then, and sweetest bents,

With cooler oaken boughs,

Come in for comely ornaments,

To re-adorn the house.

Thus times do shift; each thing his turn does hold;

New things succeed, as former things grow old.

Robert Herrick

Happy Candlemas.

Thanks, Mum.

Sound.

Innes, Winter Evening, 1887

Winter solitude —

in a world of one color

the sound of wind

Bashō

Awesome.

'Tis the season ...

Arrives.

Bob Dylan, "It Must Be Santa"

Language.

Fireflies communicate with a "language of light" that scientists still don't completely understand. James Lloyd and Marc Branham of the University of Florida, Gainesville, discuss unique flash patterns and times for some of the 2,000 types of fireflies that light up the summer nights.



CONNECT

Swim.

October is a fine and dangerous season in America. It is dry and cool and the land is wild with red and gold and crimson, and all the lassitudes of August have seeped out of your blood, and you are full of ambition. It is a wonderful time to begin anything at all. You go to college and every course in the catalogue looks wonderful. The names of the subjects seem to lay open the way to a new world. Your arms are full of new, clean notebooks, waiting to be filled. You pass through the doors of the library and the smell of thousands of well-kept books makes your head swim with a clean and subtle pleasure. You have a new hat, a new sweater, perhaps, or a whole new suit. Even the nickels and the quarters in your pocket feel new, and the buildings shine in the glorious sun.

Thomas Merton

Learned.

Geurtze, Cricket Night, Undated

Thus I fell into surprise. No one told me to surprise myself, I might add. I came on the old and best ways of writing through ignorance and experiment and was startled when truths leaped out of bushes like quail before gunshot. I blundered into creativity as blindly as any child learning to walk and see. I learned to let my senses and my Past tell me all that was somehow true.

So, I turned myself into a boy running to bring a dipper of clear rainwater out of that barrel by the side of the house. And, of course, the more water you dip out the more flows in. The flow has never ceased. Once I learned to keep going back and back again to those times, I had plenty of memories and sense impressions to play with, not work with, no, play with. 

CONNECT