Monday, August 23, 2010
The breezes taste
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel-
Ripe fruit, old footballs,
New books, erasers,
Chalk, and such.
The bee, his hive,
And Mother cuts
Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze."
- John Updike, September
This is so much fun and I am loving the results of this class, I'm sure I can incorporate this into my own style and add a lot to it.I went and looked at other artists work this morning and was pleasantly surprised by all the beautiful collage work. Will get back--foot doctor.
I am home now and the air even tho it is hot today seems like fall air to me. This has been a horrendous summer for heat , air conditioning is running constantly. My flowers in front are beautiful and thriving , probably because it is like a greenhouse out there. I saw a little sweet tree that will grow under a tree. Redbud, think I will buy one and plant it for spring bloom.
I went to a blog yesterday, she( Carol of Bird in Hand) spoke of a"bouquet of sharpened pencils" a line from "you got Mail" which I have seen maybe 20 times. Brings back the back to school memories-school supplies , new shoes and clothes.If you still have children at home , how lucky are you.I remember my new shoes were very stiff every year for awhile and school supplies were like gold to me. Blank sheets of paper waiting for my pencil, yellow tablets to practice your penmanship. I don't even think they have that anymore. ( Penmanship) I know that they don't care about spelling anymore , the PC will do that for you.I must tell you I still buy school supplies and donate them to my friends church group but always manage to get a few of those 10 cent notebooks for me. Love this poem by Shel Silverstein: Sharing with you today.
Where the Sidewalk Ends
from the book "Where the Sidewalk Ends" (1974)
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
for the children, they mark, and the children, they know,
the place where the sidewalk ends.
Love this, when I went to school the sidewalk did end before I got to school, just wasn't finished so this has special significance to me.
Posted by bloubell at 5:37 AM