The old year now away is fled,
The new year it is entered;
Then let us all our sins downtread,
And joyfully all appear.
Let’s be merry be this holiday
And let us run with sport and play
Hang sorrow, let’s cast care away—
God send us a merry new year!
—English, 13th century
Christopher
Jacky
In the season of the ubiquitous brown truck, I post this love poem by Alice N. Persons.
For another [visual] take on the same subject, please see Season of Waiting.
you bring me all the things I order
are never in a bad mood
always have a jaunty wave as you drive away
look good in your brown shorts
we have an ideal uncomplicated relationship
you’re like a cute boyfriend with great legs
who always brings the perfect present
(why, it’s just what I’ve always wanted!)
and then is considerate enough to go away
oh, UPS Man, let’s hop in your clean brown truck and elope !
ditch your job, I’ll ditch mine
let’s hit the road for Brownsville
and tempt each other
with all the luscious brown foods —
roast beef, dark chocolate,
brownies, Guinness, homemade pumpernickel, molasses cookies
I’ll make you my mama’s bourbon pecan pie
we’ll give all the packages to kind looking strangers
live in a cozy wood cabin
with a brown dog or two
and a black and brown tabby
I’m serious, UPS Man. Let’s do it.
Where do I sign?
—Alice N. Persons
This is a good day to read about the discovery of the true author of “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” who was NOT Clement Clarke Moore. The naughty plagiarist.
And a Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.
It’s time for another visit from Witch Kind. (Click twice for full size.)
I could not resist posting pictures of these two cakes my husband made for the Washington Waldorf School Bazaar tomorrow. The recipe is Deep Dark Chocolate Cake, from the cookbook BakeWise. For the relief on top, he created the head first in clay, then made a silicon and plaster mold, then cast two in chocolate.
I cannot tell you yet how the cakes taste (come to the Bazaar to find out!), but my daughter and I greatly enjoyed licking the bowls, and I myself had to be restrained from finishing off the frosting before it was actually applied to the cake.
In honor of Robert Louis Stevenson’s birthday, a poem and a picture for fall.
Today is also the anniversary of the release from house arrest of courageous writer and activist Aung San Suu Kyi, whose party, after boycotting last year’s election, this month voted to re-enter Burmese politics. For her mini-bio, please see Free As a Bird.
Martha
As the leafy color grows more beautiful daily, I post this autumn illustration, one of a series I painted for the book The Survivor Tree by Cheryl Aubin, based on the true story of a tree that survived the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center.
For more on this book, please see The Survivor Tree.
Anne
In honor of Día de los Muertos, here are our skull bread and bones (although they look rather like dog biscuits) and the bilingual song by Tish Hinojosa that we sing every year after the lighting of the candles. For more on this celebration, and the recipe for anise-flavored Pan de Muerto, please see Día de los Muertos.
Hasta Los Muertos Salen a Bailar
La luna llena acaba de llegar El otro mundo empieza a despertar Bajo las sombras vamos a cantar Hasta los muertos salen a bailar. Al camposanto, hay que celebrar Porque esta noche todo es embrujar Y el coyote empieza a aullar Hasta los muertos salen a bailar.Chorus
Flores, canciones, papel de colores Olores de antojos que traen Quienes recuerdan amores, santos, pecadores Allí vamos a estar. A The moon is full of something on the rise The other world is opening its eyes Out in the graveyard, we will sing a stance Even the dead are rising up to dance.Chorus
Love songs and flowers and papers, bright colors And smells of the food that we bring There we remember the saints and the sinners This night with them we will sing. A Los embrujados salen a bailar Y La Llorona mira donde está Ai con la momia enruedada va Hasta los muertos salen a bailar. A—Tish Hinojosa
