The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: Daffodils

As I took a walk through our gardens today I was reminded how much I love daffodils. They are the brightest and hardiest sign of spring. These are some of my favorite daffodil bouquet images.

To Daffodils 

by Robert Herrick

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see 

You haste away so soon; 

As yet the early-rising sun 

Has not attain'd his noon. 

Stay, stay, 

Until the hasting day 

Has run 

But to the even-song; 

And, having pray'd together, we 

Will go with you along. 

We have short time to stay, as you, 

We have as short a spring; 

As quick a growth to meet decay, 

As you, or anything. 

We die 

As your hours do, and dry 

Away, 

Like to the summer's rain; 

Or as the pearls of morning's dew, 

Ne'er to be found again. 

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The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: Hope

I always hold on to hope.


Hope     
   
It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,  
it shakes sleep from its eyes  
and drops from mushroom gills,  
it explodes in the starry heads  
of dandelions turned sages,  
it sticks to the wings of green angels  
that sail from the tops of maples.    
It sprouts in each occluded eye  
of the many-eyed potato,  
it lives in each earthworm segment  
surviving cruelty,  
it is the motion that runs the tail of a dog,  
it is the mouth that inflates the lungs  
of the child that has just been born.    
It is the singular gift  
we cannot destroy in ourselves,  
the argument that refutes death,  
the genius that invents the future,  
all we know of God.    
It is the serum which makes us swear  
not to betray one another;  
it is in this poem, trying to speak.    
   
Lisel Mueller

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: "Let Evening Come"

Jane Kenyon is one of my favorite poets. The reason I like this poem is because it reminds me of those evenings after sadness, illness, or work has filled the day and you just wait for the time when you can rest, find comfort, and reflect on the beauty the day held.

Let Evening Come

Let the light of late afternoon

shine through chinks in the barn, moving   

up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing   

as a woman takes up her needles   

and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned   

in long grass. Let the stars appear

and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.   

Let the wind die down. Let the shed   

go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop   

in the oats, to air in the lung   

let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t   

be afraid. God does not leave us   

comfortless, so let evening come.

by Jane Kenyon

Jane Kenyon, “Let Evening Come” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2005 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon. Reprinted with the permission of Graywolf Press, St. Paul, Minnesota, www.graywolfpress.org.

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: "The Last Battle"

Our sweet Lily died during the night in her sleep. We didn't have to make a decision to end of her life today. I still love the heartfelt meaning of this poem.

The Last Battle

If it should be that I grow frail and weak
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then will you do what must be done,
For this — the last battle — can't be won.
You will be sad I understand,
But don't let grief then stay your hand,
For on this day, more than the rest,
Your love and friendship must stand the test.

We have had so many happy years,
You wouldn't want me to suffer so.
When the time comes, please, let me go.
Take me to where to my needs they'll tend,
Only, stay with me till the end
And hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time you will agree
It is a kindness you do to me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I have been saved.
Don't grieve that it must be you
Who has to decide this thing to do;
We've been so close — we two — these years,
Don't let your heart hold any tears.

— Unknown

Remembering Lily: 2005-2019

We said good-bye to our sweet Lily this morning. We adopted Lily and her brother Sweet William from our friend Glen after his wife died in 2005. Lily always marched to a different drummer. For long periods of time she would spend her time in solitude.  Ohter times she would be close to us and the other pets. 

When they were younger they loved being close to each other.

She always watched her back!

The greenhouse at Martin Creek was her favorite place to hang out.

She was a beautiful cat.

She lived the good life. She loved to hang out outdoors when she was younger. I never knew where I might find her. She had a shelf in the garage, a spot on the woodpile, and a chair in the gazebo she loved, We are all in mourning today at our house.

“When the cat you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.” – Unknown

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: Always William Stafford

I always include at least one poem by William Stafford during National Poetry Month. This in one of his poems that I wasn't as familiar with, but it is timely. Today I am thinking about the thread that has guided me through life. It has woven through events large and small, happy times, and sad times.  The important message in this poem is to never let go of that thread. Today, I am hanging on tight to my thread.

THE WAY IT IS

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

—William Stafford