When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

John F. Kennedy said that, and I was reminded of it in the most recent Brain Pickings weekly post. Go here for details, but...yes. Yes.

Ever since I was five...

It's been five years since my last Last Day of School, but, ever the teacher, I think of those special days in this way:

Ever since I was five
(a long time already to be alive),
the happiest importantest day of all
was not the colorful first day of fall
as awesome and glorious as that can be.
Nor was the day of gifts under the tree,
though certainly pleasant...
the red green mood, the brightly wrapped present...
And Fourth of July would line up for sure
in a list of favorite events to occur,
one would think, its redbluewhitelong
warm firecracker day, a contender strong.
Not birthday day with birthday balloon.
No, the winner was always day in June:
But the Junemoonswoon means nothing to me.
and I never intended a June bride to be.
June, instead, whether grown-up or five
has the very best day to be alive.
Because, whether the day be warm or cool,
It's the playful day AFTER the last day of school!

To all my teacher friends, far and near,
May upcoming summer days be your best of the year!

Ode to the Powerless

Between studio clean-up, out-of-town guests, and a last-minute commitment to sub for an indeterminate length, I've not been able to draw, paint, mix my media, create, ponder, read, save the world or blog. So I've pulled out a poem I wrote and included in our 2007 Christmas cards to explain why we sent no cards the previous and infamous December 2006. I was reminded of this because our area still has  several hundred homes without power from serious winds last weekend. We here at 624 were gratefully not one of those affected this time. But we have already paid our dues. Our days of Powerlessness numbered TEN. as explained here:

On fourteen Dec two thousand six
We 3 Molines got in a fix                                         *Bob, Wrigley the Cat, Diane
From winds and rain so fierce and strong
That Northwest WAh had to get along
For days that numbered two...three...four...
The Northwest day, (eight hours, no more),
No heat, no phone, no "You've got mail."
For most, after 4 days, ended the tale.                      Power returned for all but 100 customers.
Not for THIS cold house at six two four.
Day five...day six...the patience wore
As neighbors lit their homes again
Day seven...day eight...still dark and when
We finally left for Illinois white
On 22 Dec in the dead of night                                 Actually, 4:00 pm but may as well have been
We were one of a hundred
Without heat and light
So that's the story behind the fact
And why your mailbox last year lacked
Our greetings and wishes for holiday cheer
A Merry Christmas and Happy New  Year.
But here's our wish for peace, felicity,
Love, and joy, and electricity.                                  
                                                                                             
Power returned to the last 100 homes on Dec. 23 as we discovered when we "called Wrigley" from Illinois and, well, he didn't answer, probably under covers deep, but our answering machine had the juice to answer!

Wrigley spent much of the time  under the blankets

The best of times, the wurst of times

YES to the shortbread

YES to the Reisling

YES to the chocolate

All very pleasing.

YES to the pfeffernusse

And beer! YES... But first 

OH, bitte, please give me

The plate of bratwurst.

 

I have been painting bratwurst. What can I say?

I revised most recent post to make way for a much better title (Thanks, Kay!), the image which didn't get posted, and to compensate for spellcheck. Life does get complicated without too much difficulty, doesn't it?

Well, it could always get wurst.

We eat a lot here.

A German-style meal
In atmosphere real,
In Rothenburg, behind its wall, 'n
I found scarves so pretty
As I traversed the city
And ate my first ever Schneeballen.