Hey! We got there and back again! We we the long way 'round on the way out and by the time we were headed home they had dirt-patched the key section of Route 15. So, we have access in and out again. Helps!
Lovely front page photo as always, listener. I'm soooo glad you're safe!
Rainy again here today and cool compared to the warm temps we have been experiencing. Last night's heavy rain showed up a problem with the new guttering on the house. Dad and the carpenter had to have a conference this afternoon. The upshot is that the second floor sun room needs a new roof. Dad wasn't thrilled. He didn't put up too much of a fuss though.
Here's a poem by Rod McKuen that caught my fancy:
AGE IS BETTER
I have been young, a fresh faced sprout, with agile legs, a muscled arm and smile to charm the world I went through in a rush to get a little older, sooner.
Catching my reflection while passing past a looking glass not long ago I discovered I was older, even old. There was no sudden melancholy or regret, and yet some sadness in the wonder that it happened while I wasn’t watching, No pause to proudly ply the autumn into winter process. Imagine. Nothing changed. I run as fast. I think a little faster and yet forget at times what I went after there as I left here to get it. This while crossing half a room not half a lifetime.
So I’ve been young and I’ve been old and have determined old is better.
Youth unfolds like coy Cleopatra from a rug spilling all its golden wonders at the foot of age who seems to envy everything, especially spring. The young pledge anything to get an audience. Delivering sometimes, most times not, on their way before the promissory note comes due. Can you blame them as they hurry off, afraid another runner may beat them to The Score ahead leaving nothing to be scored?
Age is oft times bitter, feeling in its failing health that wealth of life eluded it. Apologize somebody or some thing for leaving me to find the way I never found or could not find because it was not there or never was.
But having seen the surge of youth, the sag of age in breast and chest and everything, I still say spring is overrated. Age is better. Less is expected of the once firm chest that drags a little lower, the robust voice reduced to murmur speaking slower.
Age can finally say aloud what it really feels and thinks in after dinner company or crowd. No one blinks. If they do, no matter. Age erases pretence; replacing it with honesty.
Age is proof you got from there to here. Alas so many that you loved did not complete the journey. You mourn them, yes, and always will, but age is such a triumph over youth, again, because you moved across the years to here. Leaving there where it belongs for youth to come along and re-discover.
- RM • April, 1999 • First publication 29 April, 1999
DEAN!
ReplyDeleteHere's what's happening about 2 miles from our house (click on the video!)...
http://www.burlingtonfreepress.com/article/20130523/NEWS02/305230018/Vermont-under-flash-flood-warning
Whew! Stay dry, please.
DeleteHaving a beautifully cool dry day here after a week of rain, humidity and heat. I'm grateful.
The folks in the earlier video lost their new garage. :-(
ReplyDeletehttp://www.burlingtonfreepress.com/article/20130524/NEWS02/130524007/-1/NEWS/Video-Flooded-home-Cilley-Hill-Rd-Underhill
Latest video update. We are going to try and see if we can find a path to the stores. Obviously our usual ways aren't pasaable.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.burlingtonfreepress.com/article/20130524/NEWS02/130524009/Video-rough-night-rougher-day-Jericho-Underhill
Hey! We got there and back again! We we the long way 'round on the way out and by the time we were headed home they had dirt-patched the key section of Route 15. So, we have access in and out again. Helps!
ReplyDelete* we went...
DeleteWow! Those floods really did a number!
ReplyDeleteLovely front page photo as always, listener. I'm soooo glad you're safe!
ReplyDeleteRainy again here today and cool compared to the warm temps we have been experiencing. Last night's heavy rain showed up a problem with the new guttering on the house. Dad and the carpenter had to have a conference this afternoon. The upshot is that the second floor sun room needs a new roof. Dad wasn't thrilled. He didn't put up too much of a fuss though.
Here's a poem by Rod McKuen that caught my fancy:
AGE IS BETTER
I have been young,
a fresh faced sprout,
with agile legs, a muscled arm and smile
to charm the world I went through
in a rush to get a little older, sooner.
Catching my reflection while passing past
a looking glass not long ago
I discovered I was older, even old. There was
no sudden melancholy or regret, and yet
some sadness in the wonder that it happened
while I wasn’t watching,
No pause to proudly ply the autumn into winter
process.
Imagine.
Nothing changed.
I run as fast. I think a little faster and yet forget
at times what I went after there as I left here to
get it. This while crossing half a room
not half a lifetime.
So I’ve been young and I’ve been old and have
determined old is better.
Youth unfolds like coy Cleopatra from a rug
spilling all its golden wonders at the foot of age
who seems to envy everything, especially spring.
The young
pledge anything to get an audience. Delivering
sometimes, most times not, on their way before
the promissory note comes due.
Can you blame them as they hurry off, afraid
another runner may beat them to The Score ahead
leaving nothing to be scored?
Age is oft times bitter, feeling in its failing health
that wealth of life eluded it. Apologize somebody or
some thing for leaving me to find the way I never
found or could not find because it was not there
or never was.
But having seen the surge of youth, the sag of age
in breast and chest and everything, I still say spring
is overrated. Age is better.
Less is expected of the once firm chest that drags
a little lower, the robust voice reduced to murmur
speaking slower.
Age can finally say aloud what it really feels and
thinks in after dinner company or crowd.
No one blinks. If they do, no matter.
Age erases pretence; replacing it with honesty.
Age is proof you got from there to here.
Alas so many that you loved
did not complete the journey. You mourn them, yes,
and always will, but age is such a triumph over youth,
again, because you moved across the years to here.
Leaving there where it belongs
for youth to come along and re-discover.
- RM • April, 1999 • First publication 29 April, 1999