Equinox Vigil 2015: Union Cemetery

This was the first time that I attended the Equinox Vigil.  I was primarily motivated because it was a lovely evening for weather.  For the first days, leaves were dancing down the street…a slight wind, warm sun, blue sky dappled in cloud, cool air.  It was a perfect autumn evening.  The fall equinox falls on Wednesday of this coming week.

I thought that I would bring to the non-denominational event, thoughts and prayers for my dearly departed Mom and my family.  I would open up to a reflective and prayerful evening in the Union Cemetery.  The evening opened with a beautiful sky and dance.  This piece, Rico. Michael was a piece created with Calgary’s departed, Michael Green, at heart.

Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 001 Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 004 Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 008Various musicians were present to the event…first and throughout the evening, Simon Fisk and Robin Tufts.  Their music was both haunting and spirit-charged.  Absolutely beautiful.  I stood in the dark at one point and just listened and was moved because of this powerful setting.Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 018 Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 019I wrote Mom’s name on one of the Memorial Lanterns, lanterns that would be processed twice throughout the evening…light in a dark place.  This ritual felt a lot like writing Mom’s name into the Book of Remembrance at my parish church.  Each year, when the Book of Remembrance is placed for all to see,  I pray for her peace and our peace…those left behind and missing her.

Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 020 Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 022Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 023 While I oriented myself to the setting and the event, I missed a couple of events that I had hoped to enjoy…one, the Quickdraw Animation film screen, a tribute to Chris Reimer, ‘Dude, That’s Insane’…

and Kris Demeanor, poet and musician.Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 026Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 028 Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 030At the top of the hill, at the M Horseshoe of the Union Cemetery Rayne-Anne Latchford illuminated lives, by sharing with us, a number of stories of personalities who lived in Calgary, but who passed and are now laying, for the most part, in unmarked graves.  She has a passion for history and for the narratives of people.  She also spoke beautifully about how ‘now’ is the time to share stories with one another and to connect with our families.  It is the stories that will remain.

Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 031 Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 033I could listen to historian, Harold Sanders for hours.  Thank you, for sharing with us history of Calgary’s cemeteries and letting us know just how much we can learn from the people who are resting in our midst.  I hope to have opportunity to return to Union Cemetery in the light of day and make some discoveries on my own. Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 037Being surrounded by music for the evening added to the atmosphere of the sacred.  Thank you to the Calgary Renaissance Singers & Players for their beautiful sound.

Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 039 Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 043Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 047 Kath's Canon, September 19, 2015 051Beautiful installations were sprinkled throughout the Cemetery pathways…this one, the Breath of Life Memorial by Eveline Kolijn.

As it became dark, I settled in with a hot cup of spiced tea and chatted with friends.  It was good to see you Michelena, Billy, Jenn, Bev, Bill, Steve, Don and friends and Dale.  Walking alone, down the hill, the sky appeared lighter than the ancient evergreens that flanked me.  I looked up and gave thanks to my ancestors.  I also prayed for the many students who have passed away since teaching them…for my daughter’s and son’s friends who have passed…for my relations, most recently, my Auntie Margaret and my Uncle Bob.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace.

Amen.

Rumble House: September 16, 2015

I painted a two-hour Rumble in my kitchen on Wednesday afternoon.  I want to paint Chief Poundmaker as an offering to Dylan, for his continued success on a positive and rewarding journey.  For now, life seems to be blessed and it is because of some great choices.  I first met Dylan at the Gorilla House, while painting my studio chief sketches and so, it came to be that he shared his story.

Needless to say, the painting was not accomplished in two hours and so I took the panel with me to the Rumble, thinking I might complete it then.  Nopers. With the whirl of activity and lacking intense focus, I knew that I would be putting a soulful effort in at home, again.  It’s still not complete, as I make the effort to achieve a satisfying likeness.  This is just important to me. I am writing this blog as more work is happening and while drinking my morning coffee.  I’ve decided, however, to get the post about Wednesday night on my blog, with the painting in progress.  Otherwise, my readers won’t see the archive of work and enthusiasm that was poured into our latest Rumble.

It seemed to be Rico’s night at the auction!

Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 014 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 017 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 020 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 023 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 027 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 030 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 035 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 037 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 044 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 047 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 052 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 056 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 060 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 062 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 064 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 065 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 068 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 070 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 073 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 078 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 081 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 082 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 084 Kath's Canon September 17 and 18, 2015 Frank's 085

Rumble House: August 19, 2015

CalamityRumble House has managed through a summer of floods, four of them…hail and hassle of every sort.  Rich and Jess have managed to negotiate their way through the number of revisions that had to be made to the space, based on damage of infrastructure.  They have done a great job and the space is beautifully changed, more spacious and organized.  It’s been a strange summer for me as well, having to react to a number of events, beginning with my Max’s injury and then my own broken foot on July 2nd.  Rich and I were talking a little about calamity last night and we agreed that sometimes calamity causes our greatest creativity and active engagement.  We go places.

Some years ago, my son and I traveled a journey that I loosely named our ‘Manifest Destiny’ journey.  I finished watching four seasons of Hell on Wheels recently and the trip that James and I took wove through several of the locations featured in this series.

The trek began when we dipped south to visit Sainte-Marie among the Hurons where eight Jesuit missionaries lived, worked and were eventually martyred.  To stand in this place is to recognize, with complete clarity, the collision of two cultures both operating from a sense of protection of their own ways and intentions.  It is an example of colonization and all that can be anticipated as a result.

We then crossed the border into the United States, drove through the land where Dances With Wolves was filmed, saw Mount Rushmore, traveled through the Black Hills, all while listening to Louis L’Amour stories on book tape.  We stood overlooking the hills of Little Big Horn.  We slept in a cheap hotel room in Deadwood and we drove through the Bad Lands.  It was an amazing trip, ending with the sharing of a jug bottle of beer in Billings, Montana.

Wonders 93 Little Big HornI’ve written about Deadwood before.

It was another place riddled with a history of the ‘wild’ west…and so much of it rooted in tragedy.  It was the first time that I really thought about a lot of things.   There were huge issues that I had already read about, feeling very sad about the choices of the past, but helpless to change any of them.  One of the personalities that came to mind once we hit Deadwood was a woman of the west, Calamity Jane.  Last night I painted from one of the photo references that is an early portrait.  Thank you to Teresa for purchasing Calamity at auction.

Last night I painted her.

Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 024 Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 021I am grateful for the people I bump into at the Rumble.  They have become ‘characters’ of my own life…friends…hard workers…creatives.

Calamity Jane…what is fact and what is fiction?

What is the history that we are creating as individuals and collectively?

Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 001 Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 004 Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 005 Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 007 Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 009 Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 014 Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 016 Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 018 Kath's Canon August 19, 2015 Calamity Jane Rumble 020

Rumble House: July 1, 2015

Since I was fully invested in my teaching contract the last four months of the school year, I didn’t have the energy required to do very much gallery/music/event hopping and one of the greatest losses was Wednesday evenings at the Rumble House.  I decided, given the resolution of most of my plumbing problems at home, I’d head downtown the evening of Canada Day and do some ‘chill’ painting just to soak up the good feelings that I always enjoy when I’m surrounded by friend-creatives.

I took along a papier mache rabbit that I had constructed as a demo piece for one of the create! classes that I taught down at the Golden Age Club.  I thought that it was time to bring the little guy to completion and to let go of him.  Priscilla sat next to me and I treasured quiet conversation.  It was good to meet up with Jenn and Vincent after such a long time. While the Canada Day displays and events were a huge draw for Calgarians (something like 250,000 in attendance along the river), it was nice to be a part of something peaceful and familiar.  It was nice to be painting.

From Rumble, I headed past the crowds congregating at the Center Street Bridge, to my brother’s place.  After he fed me, we walked ourselves down to the hill at Max Bell Arena and watched the Canada Day fireworks together.  I loved being with him and we shared memories of Mom and Dad taking us out with blankets and pillows in the night, to watch fireworks together.  We are so blessed to be living in Canada.  I had a beautiful evening.

Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 042 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 040 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 038 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 036 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 035Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 013 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 034 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 030 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 001Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 004Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 027 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 023 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 022 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 018 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 016 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 014 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 010 Kath's Canon July 2 2015 Rumble Hood Birds 008

Springtimes at Many Springs

Time passes and the rituals of our lives bond us with friends and family members and our communal narrative becomes something timeless and very very special.

Yesterday saw us on our flower walk, this time, missing Carla, Val and the boys.  Our most courageous friend, Wendy, has had some struggles with health this past year and so this spring, her funny and talented husband, Darren, also accompanied us on the trail.  Wendy is witty enough, but get these two together and it’s such a fun time.  Many Springs is always a blessing-time.

I wrote about this ritual in 2011.

I wrote about this ritual in 2012.

I wrote about this ritual in 2014.

In 2011, the water levels were like this.

IMG_8818This year…they were like this.

Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 073Past springs have seen the water levels change and so the scenery changes.

Copy of On EarthThis year…

Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 062Our group shots have seen Cameron as an infant and brought us up through his childhood.

And ME!Happiness!At the Bridge

Many Springs 2008 043Westhills Starbucks…our meeting place for car-pooling. Many Springs 2008 012

Cathy’s photo at our bridge…2015.

Many Springs 2015  2RotatedDarren promises me his photos from yesterday, but I DID manage to get a few.  Lilies were the predominate flower…more than we’ve seen on any other hike.  We found only one lady slipper on the entire circle and very few orchids.  The wild columbine was already done.  There were some beautiful wild violets on the far side of the route, but everyone was so focused on managing the chair up and around the incline and the tree roots, that we enjoyed them on the fly.

Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 069Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 005 Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 016 Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 037 Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 040 Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 046 Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 051Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 058 Kath's Canon June 28, 2015 Flower Walk 063

O frabjous day!  Callooh! Callay!

Leah Came to My Door

Early this morning…over my first cup of coffee, I posted this.  I think this. I live this. I shared this.  I didn’t think it was anything out of the ordinary…but now I do.

AncestorsI had a preparation period very first thing, after a long weekend and after walking my Grade threes down to the gymnasium.  WHOOT!  What a way to begin the week.

The work and busyness of marking, planning and hanging up last week’s giants began.  I was hard at it, with head down when I looked up at the door.  There stood Leah.

I met Leah on my birthday, 2015.  I had turned 60.  My mother was missed.  I hadn’t had a chance to speak with my sister.  I was, on that day, filled with thoughts of mothering, sistering, womaning and just feeling connected to sister-friends, in general.  Meeting Leah, such a spectacular creative, was really important.  She was such a gentle and soulful presenter of the process of needle felting, with my students and I listened intently to her engaging presentation because I know, for fact, that I want to try this.  Once we had even a few moments to chat, I learned that one of her favourite places to visit and to collect supplies is north on the highway to Carstair’s Custom Woolen Mills.

I had the shear joy of sharing with her that much of the equipment in the mill was equipment that my grandfather, John Moors, used and maintained over his career in Magrath, Alberta.

John Moors Woolen Mill Magrath, Alberta

As an aside, I told her that I’ve been on the look out for almost twenty years for a blanket from that mill.  Once, a dear friend, living in Grand Prairie at the time, gave a special gift to me and that was the corner of her wool blanket.  She realized that it was from the Magrath mill…but I guess, was unwilling to part with the cozy blanket and wrapped up the label in a Christmas card just for me.

DSC_4105

Now…don’t get me wrong…I DO appreciate that gesture, but as I explained to Leah…I would dearly treasure a Golden Fleece wool blanket.  She said, “Kath…leave that with me…I’ll keep my eye out for one.”  I took pause, thinking to myself, “Hmmm…this lady doesn’t know how hard I’ve looked.  I don’t think she’ll ever have any luck.”  But…as we do, we believe in the kind gestures of others and Leah DID seem sincere.

Well…you know what’s next.

Leah left the doorway and stepped up to me with a reusable bag in hand…saying as she stepped before me, “You remember that I told you I would keep my eyes open…”

I looked into the bag…and this treasure…this object of my dearest affection, was there.  I saw a green wool blanket…the most beautiful colour with its Golden Fleece, Magrath, Alberta label.  I pulled myself into the embrace of this beautiful woman and fell to tears.  Unbelieving…filled with joy…remembering my grandfather, amazing John Moors.  I knew that, for fact, my grandfather had remembered me.  Our ancestors and their love is unstoppable and endless.  It is important to keep eyes wide.

We chatted for a while.  I remembered the smell of the mill.  Leah said that she knew that moist wool smell from Carstairs.  Wool connected us.  She just kept nodding.

The paraphrased story from Leah…”The night before your classes to be taught on May 8, I was cutting up my woolen blankets in preparation.  These would be used for the students’ needle felting.  I came up to this blanket (having not met you) and decided that it was just a beautiful woolen blanket.  It even has a tiny piece of red wool woven into it.  I asked my son if he might like a nice blanket for his car and he accepted.  And then I met you.

I went home from the workshop and thought that I had recently seen the Magrath label somewhere.  Sure enough, when I checked the green blanket, there it was.  It was meant for you.”

I took a contract at this school…

I ended up with this amazing collection of grade threes…

The workshops for MOTHER’S DAY had been set and dated during the month of September…

The workshop would be needle felting and the instructor, Leah C. Donald…

I had been asked because of booking error, would I be willing to take Friday morning…

Without hesitation and regardless of missing a prep, and focus time in Math and Language Arts, I said…YES!

I met Leah who loves wool…almost as much as I do.

And….the rest is magic.  And the rest…is history.

Thank you, Leah, for being a channel of ancestral love.  Thank you for the red thread and for the woolen blanket.  It will be wrapped around me on my red sofa tonight.

I have found a tremendous friend in you.

DSC_4104

DSC_4103

DSC_4102

DSC_4101

Leah Donald…contact her via ArtFelt Studio.  Book now, teacher friends, for next year!

May 8, 2015

…my 60th birthday!

Whoot!  It was a wonderful day!  And, yes, I taught the full day.  But then I had the pleasure of sharing a late afternoon walk with my daughter, Erin and pooch, Max. We did our bird, coyote and muskrat watching and enjoyed the warmth.  The afternoon with my students, was spent needle felting with Leah C. Donald, visionary for Art Felt Studio.  With our previous experience painting spring flowers, this was an amazing extension and a great opportunity to create a more-than-special Mother’s Day gift.  I enjoyed connecting with Leah and learning that one of her favourite spots is the Custom Woolen Mill near Carstairs, Alberta.  I told her that I had grown up with the smell of raw wool and we gave each other a big hug.  Thanks to my gang of grade three friends who made the arrangement for this magical activity!

Some people might be fearful of age, aging and the changes that passing years bring.  For me, being 60 means a freedom to be and I stand firm in my gratitude for that.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Cell May 8, 2015 Franks, Needle Felting, Birthday 009

Rumble House: March 4, 2015

I wonder how other women seem to have their ________together, especially those with young children, a career and outside-of-work volunteering and exercise programs.  I took on a contract, teaching grade three, beginning last Tuesday.  You’ve been wondering why I haven’t been writing?  Why my poetry response to each day has gone to the wayside?  Well, let me tell you, it’s a crazy life we’re living; crazy-busy, that is!  Max is still getting out to Frank’s Flats each day when I arrive home, dragging my feet and tempted to slouch on the red sofa!  We’re still out there.  And…we’re out in the middle of a field at 6:30 every morning and I drill at least twenty Frizbee throws into the darkness while Max, like a bullet, whizzes into the abyss.  These two daily events are the routines I can manage.  All else seems to be crumbling.  I laugh as I type.

Yesterday morning, I stood in line for the photo copy machine. You try to minimize the use of paper, but truly, paper is a blessing when it comes to a full day with grade three!  There was Lina (perhaps spelled wrong).  She was/is beautiful!  I was taking pause (a wait in a photo copy line just may be your only pause all day long) when I noticed how put-together she was.  A pony tail was lifted to just that perfect spot on the back of her head, speaking of youth and optimism.  YES!  Pony tails DO speak!  Accessories, colours, textures and the shoes!  I asked her, “How do you do it?”  I’m not going to spill the beans on her particular life at this time, but let’s just say, it’s a busy life she lives and while she says that she’s bubbled up inside, she expresses herself with friendliness and calm.

This gave me something to think about during the day.

Before I headed for Rumble House (late, as per usual), I captured a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, as I washed my hands.  I looked at my reflection.  Those eyes spoke to me.  (not going to write down what they said)

DSC_2679

And while I was so so tempted to recline and find a good Netflix binge for the coming two hours, instead I walked to the computer in search of a reference image of a glam girl…I wanted to paint some concept of beauty, whether facade or authentic classical beauty…I wanted to explore the beauty-feminine, thinking about all of those amazing women who are so diligent in their lives to become ‘the archetype’ full-on.  I printed off a reference and headed out.

vintage womanArriving at 7:30, I grasped one of the concepts determined at the wheel…’what inspires you’ and the one and a half hour painting frenzy began.  I didn’t get a chance to say hello to Paula.  I was excited to meet up with friend, Bronwyn, from East End.  I parked my easel next to Dawn.  Priscilla came by and showed me an awesome book of portraits, flipping pages and pointing out beautiful contrasts and powerful black and whites. I met Miriam, James Young and Anna.  Enriquito gave me a big hug, as did Rich.  A couple of very friendly Shaw guys came by and interviewed me about the community,  Beatles music played in the background and voices buzzed.  There was energy and life and creation.

Thanks to Jess for purchasing this one at auction.

Grace CooperDSC_2684

At auction, I saw that many of the artists captured the ideas that were floating my boat.

??????????

Painting by Bronwyn Schuster

DSC_2699 DSC_2676 DSC_2678 DSC_2694

 

 

Max Falls In!

By now, my readers are getting to know Max pretty well.  Yesterday, it was such an awesome autumn day…so golden-blue, that I took Max back on the loop where I once did daily walks with my Laurie-dog at the river.  The image below is a photo that I took on one of our final river walks.

Laurie and Kath 2My children and I sprinkled Laurie’s ashes along the path of his favourite walks…places he had shared with me over his 14 years.  I painted, as a result of his passing, a series called my Heaven Series, paintings that were rejected by the commercial galleries that represented me at the time, for the fact that they had ‘too much sky’.  Sigh…

September 7 2008 Max and Heaven 033I try to get Max back to these places before the snow flies and my favourite time is in the autumn.  Yesterday the yellow leaves were dancing on the ground.  There was just enough breeze and in the past couple of days the leaves have been on the change.

?????????? ?????????? ?????????? ?????????? DSC_0571Initially, Max was charged with excitement simply because we had such a steep drop into the valley and then there were gaggles of juvenile pheasants feeding in the open clearing left behind after utility and infrastructure revisions.

Interest Peeked

Interest Peeked

Poor photograph...but, yes, these are what caught his eye.

Poor photograph…but, yes, these are what caught his eye.

Where, once, I would throw sticks for Max from the broad perch of river rocks on the shore, most of the banks have dropped vertically into the water.  Max found one of the few locations on the east side of the river where dry rock could be found and there was no way I was clamouring down there, although he barked enthusiastically to prompt me.

??????????It was obvious to me that some huge shifts have happened with the river since the big Calgary flood.  For Max, these changes were not so evident.

As we continued south along the river, I think Max supposed that there were going to be some excellent locations for his activity of choice.  At one point, he took a mad dash from the path and I heard him briefly charging through the thick autumn brush and then….nothing.  Silence.  And yes…this is where he went in.  A tentative and anxious herder, Max has always loved the water, but up to his hips.  He has never had a swim.  He has always barked at sticks when they have flowed out of his easy reach.  Hmmm…this was to be a different sort of experience for him!  This is where he went in.

??????????I climbed my way through thick brush and heard his feeble cries. His situation came clear.  The current was kicking him down river, all the while his wee head was popping up and his strong legs were reaching up onto the wet, worn shoulder of the river.  Eyes, wide open, he caught sight of me and at my prompting, remained at one spot.  I urged his hard work and with a few strong efforts, he pulled himself up and into my waiting arms.

Sheesh.  Be warned!  I was a bad mama!  While on the west side of the river, I could see other families, children and dogs playing on a broad shore, there isn’t nothing of that kind on the east side.

This was excitement that we didn’t need…but, let it be known, my border collie has finally had a good swim!

Meeting Marjorie Pope

Only elegant words would be adequate to describe Marjorie and I can’t find those as I sit down to write.  I met Marjorie through my beautiful sister, Grace.  Thanks be to God.  It would have been a sad thing to have missed this opportunity in life.  She is one of the most soulful and gracious individuals I’ve ever met.  But here I go…trying to use ordinary words.  I’m going to post a poem, a song and some images.  I hope that they will be enough.

The stories that Marjorie shared with me…told again and again…so, now maybe I can keep them and learn from them.  The following, metaphors.

 

 

A Memory of Youth by William Butler Yeats

THE moments passed as at a play;
I had the wisdom love brings forth;
I had my share of mother-wit,
And yet for all that I could say,
And though I had her praise for it,
A cloud blown from the cut-throat North
Suddenly hid Love’s moon away.
Believing every word I said,
I praised her body and her mind
Till pride had made her eyes grow bright,
And pleasure made her cheeks grow red,
And vanity her footfall light,
Yet we, for all that praise, could find
Nothing but darkness overhead.
We sat as silent as a stone,
We knew, though she’d not said a word,
That even the best of love must die,
And had been savagely undone
Were it not that Love upon the cry
Of a most ridiculous little bird
Tore from the clouds his marvellous moon.
ALTHOUGH crowds gathered once if she but showed her face,
And even old men’s eyes grew dim, this hand alone,
Like some last courtier at a gypsy camping-place
Babbling of fallen majesty, records what’s gone.
These lineaments, a heart that laughter has made sweet,
These, these remain, but I record what-s gone. A crowd
Will gather, and not know it walks the very street
Whereon a thing once walked that seemed a burning cloud

 

A head above the rest.

A head above the rest.

New Friendships Last

New Friendships Last

Measure

Measure

P1180557

 

Marjorie.  I will remember the prayers she said for my children.

Marjorie. I will remember the prayers she said for my children.

In noon hour light.

In noon hour light.