Happy New Year to All

The Old Year

The Old Year's gone away
     To nothingness and night:
We cannot find him all the day
     Nor hear him in the night:
He left no footstep, mark or place
     In either shade or sun:
The last year he'd a neighbour's face,
     In this he's known by none.

All nothing everywhere:
     Mists we on mornings see
Have more of substance when they're here
     And more of form than he.
He was a friend by every fire,
     In every cot and hall--
A guest to every heart's desire,
     And now he's nought at all.

Old papers thrown away,
     Old garments cast aside,
The talk of yesterday,
     Are things identified;
But time once torn away
     No voices can recall:
The eve of New Year's Day
     Left the Old Year lost to all.

Enjoy the New Year!!!

Autumn

John Keats, ‘To Autumn’.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells …

It is so wonderful to have the change of seasons.

A Heatwave

It has been so hot I can barely move, and to add to the heat, the humidity is super high! I perspire buckets for every chore or activity I perform.

At least the squash and tomato plants like the heat.

Inflation and Depression

A few poems on the subject of inflation, depression, and hard times.

Five bucks

Five bucks ain’t

what it used to be

and neither am I

time and inflation

have taken their toll

but I’m still here

for you.

Inflation Sucks

A hundred dollars was more than enough
To buy all my groceries and stuff
The bagboy doesn't stock it
For it fits in my pocket
A hundred dollars for spam is too rough
...

Read More

I Love Breakfast

Breakfast is a delicious meal I look forward to each morning.

Eggs are vesatile and delicious.

Breakfast

BY MARY LAMB

A dinner party, coffee, tea,

Sandwich, or supper, all may be

In their way pleasant. But to me

Not one of these deserves the praise

That welcomer of new-born days,

A breakfast, merits; ever giving

Cheerful notice we are living

Another day refreshed by sleep,

When its festival we keep.

Now although I would not slight

Those kindly words we use ‘Good night’,

Yet parting words are words of sorrow,

And may not vie with sweet ‘Good Morrow’,

With which again our friends we greet,

When in the breakfast-room we meet,

At the social table round,

Listening to the lively sound

Of those notes which never tire,

Of urn, or kettle on the fire.

Sleepy Robert never hears

Or urn, or kettle; he appears

When all have finished, one by one

Dropping off, and breakfast done.

Yet has he too his own pleasure,

His breakfast hour’s his hour of leisure;

And, left alone, he reads or muses,

Or else in idle mood he uses

To sit and watch the venturous fly,

Where the sugar’s piled high,

Clambering o’er the lumps so white,

Rocky cliffs of sweet delight.

Hummingbirds are Beautiful and Unique

I love Hummingbirds and the flowers that attract them as well as feeders that provide much needed calories. I keep a couple of feeders up all year around, and enjoy watching the birds feed. We mainly have Anna’s Hummingbird and Allen´s Hummingbird.

Hummingbirds are birds native to the Americas and comprise the biological familyTrochilidae. With about 361 species and 113 genera,^[1] they occur from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego, but the vast majority of the species are found in the tropics.

Humming-bird
…………….by D.H.Lawrence

I can imagine, in some otherworld
Primeval-dumb, far back
In that most awful stillness, that gasped and hummed,
Humming-birds raced down the avenues.

Before anything had a soul,
While life was a heave of matter, half inanimate,
This little bit chirped off in brilliance
And went whizzing through the slow, vast, succulent stems.

I believe there were no flowers then,
In the world where humming-birds flashed ahead of creation
I believe he pierced the slow vegetable veins with his long beak.

Probably he was big
As mosses, and little lizards, they say, were once big.
Probably he was a jabbing, terrifying monster.