One of my mother’s appealing qualities was her willingness to risk making a fool of herself. Of course this annoyed me no end when I was thirteen, but I grew to appreciate it. Here she is ten years ago, on the Christmas morning my son found a scooter under the tree. After his first ride, he offered it to Grandma, and off she went, wobbling and laughing. She would have been 90 today. Happy birthday, Mom.
Mom
My favorite parades are not those of the professional gigantic floats and inflatable cartoon characters, but the small-town variety featuring decorated bicycles and the local fire truck. Especially if there are participants expressing themes so personal and local that they are perfectly incomprehensible to an out-of-towner.
Melinda
Carrie
Here are cows I sketched on an early morning walk. The lovely and generous cow works hard all the time, transforming grass into milk, butter, and ice cream. Yet she always looks like she’s on vacation.
Whenever I encounter this poem, I receive it as a gentle reminder of the value of cow-ness. I post it here in honor of its author, William Henry Davies (1871-1940), whose birthday it is today.
What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night. No time to turn at Beauty’s glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance. No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began. A poor life this is if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.—William Henry Davies
Well, not THAT Louis XIV. This one lives in a henhouse on the grounds of Thyme in the Country, a lovely B&B in Hudson, New York, where we enjoy visiting the cows and poultry, strolling around the pond, and admiring the organic vegetable garden. He’s probably happier than the original Louis.
Hannah
Camille
Years ago, when I worked full time, and we were all preparing to head out of town for our annual convention, one of my colleagues always announced, “I’ve got to go home and get my house dying clean.” I didn’t really believe that her grieving family’s first thoughts would be for the impeccable cleanliness of her home. Ah, how simple my life was then. With time, I too have become an initiate of the pre-travel cleaning blitz. Not because I worry about the state of my house after my death. But because I don’t want to walk in the door to find heaps of laundry and dirty dishes when I return home with a car full of wet bathing suits and cracker crumbs.
He who would travel happily must travel light.
—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, whose birthday it is today. And it may be much-welcome advice for those struggling to get out of town.
Marilyn
Trevor
Signs of life, recent and ancient, where land and water meet. From one of many beach walks.
Charley
A trip to the Mall with my daughter, who invariably offers thoughtful commentary on her surroundings, whatever they may be.
I post this sketch in honor of her half-birthday today. Long ago, when the children were tiny and each week seemed to mark another milestone, we developed the habit of celebrating their half-birthdays every year, as if they weren’t already sufficiently doted upon… But it’s a modest celebration, with a candle in a pancake, a little package beside the plate, and a rousing round of “Happy Half-Birthday.”
Ruthie
Tomorrow my husband is scheduled for heart surgery. Here he is a couple of years ago, reading a boatbuilding book, because until his heart problem was diagnosed he was (when he had time) in the process of building a small wooden boat and restoring another. I am trying not to be anxious, and we are all hoping surgery will go well enough that he can eventually return to this project he so loves. Please send your good thoughts and healing wishes his way.
Dorothy
I hate to tell you how old this drawing is—it dates from my freewheeling pre-parenthood days. But I selected my sketch of the ancient stone calendar in honor of the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, a day on which you have the greatest amount of daylight to deck yourelf and your doorway with flowers, bathe in the local river, build and leap across a bonfire, and any other of various joyful means to celebrate light, fertility and the perpetuation of life. Happy Summer!
