Sit-a-while
on swinging porch
where tin-dippers and
sweet water
in cool touches
meet lips
from hand dug wells.

Good morning good people!

The best conversation of this week took place Sunday at the mountain as we closed up for the season; a young instructor shared her story of leading a walk-out at our local high school.

With most of the crew gathered round, filled with emotion, she expressed her fear of the gunslingers who showed up to the protest sporting ak-47-styled weapons around their shoulders on main street.

Our conversation broke out into the importance of public protest with me providing a few stories from the sixties. I feel we gave each other hope as i pointed out how much good came from my youth's efforts and i believe that more good will come from hers and her generation; the conversation leaving me in smiles that i've been there to watch this daughter of a fellow instructor grow up on the snow; they know better, our children and as witnessed are prepared to demand it, thankfully.

Otherwise, it's been a week consumed by traveling to doctors. Surgery on the shoulder has grown more complicated, as i now have to have it done in hospital instead of Out-patient ortho where most are done. According to the Docs, my old body can't be trusted to take the stress; best safe than sorry, i guess, it just delays things for three more weeks for scheduling reasons.

A rainy, cold day here with snow on the way tonight. It's a good day for music, please bring some and we will enjoy listening today together.

All yesterday it poured, and all night long
I could not sleep; the rain unceasing beat
Upon the shingled roof like a weird song,
Upon the grass like running children’s feet.
And down the mountains by the dark cloud kissed,
Like a strange shape in filmy veiling dressed,
Slid slowly, silently, the wraith-like mist,
And nestled soft against the earth’s wet breast.
But lo, there was a miracle at dawn!
The still air stirred at touch of the faint breeze,
The sun a sheet of gold bequeathed the lawn,
The songsters twittered in the rustling trees.
And all things were transfigured in the day,
But me whom radiant beauty could not move;
For you, more wonderful, were far away,
And I was blind with hunger for your love.

~ "Summer Morn in New Hampshire," Claude McKay, 1889-1948

Bad news of the week prize:

"everything was accurate and measured, and we know where every bullet landed, ~ Israel’s military

Some music to get the day going...

And for a long-draw cup of java or tea:

“A day spent without the sight or sound of beauty, the contemplation of mystery, or the search of truth is a poverty-stricken day; and a succession of such days is fatal to human life.”
~ Lewis Mumford

The stage is yours!