HAVE ME

by Carl Sandburg

HAVE me in the blue and the sun.
Have me on the open sea and the mountains.

When I go into the grass of the sea floor, I will go alone.
This is where I came from—the chlorine and the salt are blood and bones.
It is here the nostrils rush the air to the lungs. It is here oxygen clamors to be let in.
And here in the root grass of the sea floor I will go alone.

Love goes far. Here love ends.
Have me in the blue and the sun.

Just this today. No poem. The photo is unaltered. The sky was that.

There was a little pup, who had a little tuft, right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good, she was very, very good.

But when she was bad…..

SHE WAS HORRID!

After defeating her first opponent (she’s the one hiding behind Daphne, the ref), Holly takes on heavyweight champion Luscious Lulu.  This can’t be good for lightweight newcomer Hellacious Holly. She’s really outclassed in this match.  Look at the conditioning on Luscious!

And Luscious Lulu has her in a headlock. It looks like the end for Hellacious.

REF! DO SOMETHING!

Wait, Holly’s taking it to the floor! Smart!

And she pulls out her trademark move – the “ear pull.”

Followed by a quick “jowl pinch.” Oooh, that’s gotta hurt.

Luscious Lu is trying to stay on her feet, but it’s not looking good, folks

AND SHE’S DOWN!

SOMEBODY STOP THE FIGHT! No tongues!  NO TONGUES!

DING! DING! DING!

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!  The winner of this morning’s fight and reigning defender of the ottoman empire, Hellacious Holly!

You want to get up on that ottoman?  Go ahead…make her day.

Yesterday I returned from the city just in time to feed the horses.  As soon as I parked the car, I opened the door to the house and the dogs came tumbling out and we all started jogging up to the barn.

The horses get very excited at feeding time.  If they are in the lower field and see the dogs and me approach they come galloping up the hill and meet us at the fence:

Yesterday, however, as I approached their fence, they did their usual canter up the hill, but when they reached the top, still about 20 feet away from the barn, they all came to a slamming halt.  Then, their necks raised like giraffes, their ears pricked forward and their eyes wide with alarm, they started blowing and snorting with fright.  They were staring at a spot just above my head – at the field behind me it seemed, and suddenly they all wheeled around at once and galloped back down the hill.  I didn’t even look behind me.  I just ran into the barn, the dogs tearing in after me.  After the discussion here yesterday I was sure there was a pack of coyotes in that field, or worse – a bear.

I peered out from the barn door and looked at the field opposite and saw nothing.  The dogs were sniffing around the floor of the barn for mice.  I called Daphne outside, made her look at the field, but she was uninterested, so I knew there wasn’t a giant predator.  I filled the horses’ buckets with grain and went downstairs, to the lower level of the barn where the horses’ stalls are, and filled their buckets.  Usually this will create a stampede into the barn, but when I opened the barn door, the horses, who had tentatively wandered back up the hill, again, gaped above me in horror, and then galloped down the hill.  At this point I was thinking ghost.  There was clearly something unGodly hovering above my head that had spooked the horses.  I looked up, but all I could see was the fuzzy fringe of the fur hat that I had worn up to the barn (it’s fake fur, relax).  The hat that I sometimes wear in the city and to hockey games but never in the country.  The hat that, I now realized completely altered my silhouette for the horses and what they saw, standing in the door of the barn, was a two legged beast with a bulbous fur head.  Some kind of horse-eating manimal.

This is the hat. The photo was taken at the winter classic hockey game in Boston and I’m eating pizza, not horse, but how could my dear beasts know this?  I was unrecognizable to them in the hat.  Either that, or they were just refusing to be seen near me when I wear it, like the rest of my family.

Anyway, I took the hat off and called them. They stared at me from afar, trembling in fright.  I tried to approach, but again they wheeled away and trotted off.  I left the barn doors open, thinking they’d come in on their own once I left.  Hours later, I returned to the barn, hatless, and only then, with some very gentle coaxing, was I able to get them to come into the warm barn, out of the cold, for their supper.

The horses have confirmed what my family has been telling me since I bought that hat.  It’s scary.

But it’s so warm.

We had a full “wolf moon” the other night. I was heading out, and though I was slightly late, I had to stop to snap a few photos before I got into my car.  According to the Farmer’s Almanac, Native Americans named the January moon, the “wolf moon,” because the wolves howled so loudly on the nights when it was full.

Here in Connecticut, the coyotes enjoy a night of song and merrymaking whenever there’s a full moon.  I think it’s because the night’s brightness makes the hunting easier and when they mate,  it’s as if the lights are on, which makes it sexier. There was some very loud hunting and carrying on the other night.  It gave me goosebumps. It made my dogs bark until they were hoarse, and I made the mistake of letting them out too close to my bedtime, and had to wait up for them to come in.  I stood in the freezing doorway yodeling out into the night for them to come. Calling and cursing like a witch. The moon was so bright  that the trees cast shadows across our white fields.

Yesterday I came into the city and stayed over night, for the first time in months.  We went to a party  and then out with some friends.  It was exciting to be in the city.  I always feel a little dazzled by all the beautiful people when I come to the city after having been in the country so long.  All the beautiful, stylish people, all the delicious smells coming from restaurants. The cool hair. The fashionable babies and dogs.  Today, having breakfast with a friend, and then back to coyote country.

The Lift Trucks Gallery sent me this short video that they made of last night’s reading. If you don’t blink, at the very end, you will see me up at the mike. But as the others have said, the most fun was (for me) before the event, and (for them) afterward.

I arrived at our designated meeting spot, Tazza Cafe, and as one of the others stated, within minutes, our screeching and cackling and guffawing had driven the other patrons away. Most had arrived before me and Tracy very graciously offered to buy me a cup of tea and then we all got to gabbing, and honestly, it felt like I was with family.

Here’s stuff I learned about the people who went, that I hadn’t already known:

Barbara teaches at an inner-city school and she loves her students and some of them have gone on to compete on a state (national?) level in an academic competition, with her as the coach. They are “Team Sorenson!” She sent me a photo of the team with their trophies but it’s quite blurry. Hoping she’ll send another.

Aislinn’s parents are from Ireland and she’s used to a lot of swearing and foul language and sang a song for us involving brass cleaner and bollocks! It was funny, because she’s soft-spoken and feminine.

Bev’s brother (cousin? Oh, how I wish I was taking notes) is a famous footballer in the UK. Bev’s husband Mark was a very good sport for coming along.

Colleen is thoughtful and kind and recommended my friend Dani Shapiro’s book, highly. She had just finished it.

Tracy was quieter than I expected, but her laugh is booming and infectious.

Alan explained that “putz” and “schmuck” are even nastier words than most of us had thought. Oh yes, we got right down to some vulgarities, even bandying about the c-word at one point (It was me, sorry. It was a joke).

Wonderful Arliss and her husband Bruce live quite near me and Bruce is the published author of a cook book!

Lisa is funny and pretty and thinks she doesn’t photograph well, which she does. Lisa’s Tom, also a great sport.

KC (Ms. Brunch) and her husband Matt met us at the gallery and then went on to dinner with the rest of the gang. I met KC years ago when she was a kid. SHe’s not a kid anymore! Gorgeous.

Here’s a group photo, taken by Tracy:

Here I am at the mike. As you can see, I decided to convert my story into song and sing it for the group.

Well the group has been sending each other photos from past night and perhaps they will put them up on their Facebook pages. Thanks to all who attended, you were wonderful!

I love an unexpected snowfall.  I watched the weather this morning and was told to expect a few flurries, but it’s been snowing for hours.  All the school buses were out, I guess the snow caught the school district by surprise too.  Let’s hope everybody gets where they’re going, safe and sound.

It’s so peaceful here when it snows.  Why does the snow have such a silencing effect? The steady sound of those horses munching their hay, the crunching of the snow under their hooves all seem amplified by the stillness in the air.  Horses get very thoughtful when they’re chewing their hay on a quiet morning. They pull a mouthful from the pile on the ground and then raise their heads and slowly work their jaws, their lids lowered dreamily, as in some sort of spiritual contemplation.  I’ve found a great hay source who brings us the second cutting of last summer’s hay.  It’s almost as green as fresh-cut grass.   I suppose the horses are dreaming of the summer while they eat it, of the fields covered with green grass and clover again.  Or they’re offering up some kind of silent equine prayer.  Seriously, if you could stand next to these horses on a morning like this, you’d believe they have some sort of divine communication going on.

We took an early hike when the snow was just starting.  Our new favorite place to hike requires a short car ride.

Holly is definitely one of those mutts who looks like a breed.  Our former terrier mutts, Rocky and Pongo, though unrelated, looked like brothers and like an actual terrier breed.  Sort of like long-legged Scotties.  I got so tired of people asking me what kind of dogs they were, that I assigned them the breed name of Galway Terriers. Wait, I’ve blogged about this before.

So I want to assign a breed name to Holly.  She has the temperament and stature of a Jack Russell, so I thought perhaps a Jane Russell Terrier would be a clever name.  But too gimmicky. Nobody would be believe it.  The fun is when people tell you how much they’ve always loved the breed.

How about East Woodland Terrier?   Rough-Coated Mouse Terrier?

Daphne likes to jump up on the old stone walls that wind their way through the wooded areas up here.  This was all open farmland 100 years ago, but now the fields have been overgrown with forests and the walls are wonderfully nostalgic artifacts of a different time.

Stumpy Wannabe Terrier?

It rained here on Monday. It poured rain. Part of our driveway was washed away, our kitchen ceiling leaked and the dogs and I were pretty much stuck indoors.  Holly drove all of us to thoughts of puppycide.  She was a very bad girl.  She attacked me and the other dogs, repeatedly, chewed up a shoe, refused to pee while outside in the rain and then squatted on a rug the minute I brought her in. And most annoying of all was her unrelenting glee.  The dogs and I were cranky because of the rain.  We wanted to lie in the bed-desk  and listen to the rain but somebody kept launching surprise attacks on our feet and muzzles.  When she was scolded she wagged her tail and then leapt at us again. She had a few time-outs.

Yesterday, the sun came out and I took Holly and Daphne for a hike.  I’ve been hiking with these two because Daphne is the most well-balanced individual in not just our dog pack, but also in our entire family, going back many generations.  She has a calm, assertive, intelligent manner, always, and I want Holly to learn from her.  On these hikes, Holly pays a lot of attention to what Daphne does and Daphne pays a lot of attention to me.  As a result, the hikes are really great.

Here we are starting out:

The trail was wet and muddy.

Fortunately,  I was wearing my fleecy rain boots that I bought this winter and wear every single day.  They’re just plain rain boots, “Wellies” of a sort, but they’re lined with fleece:

Greatest boots ever. When I extract myself from bed-desk, I’ll find out who makes them for you.

On the way home, puppy was tired, Daphne, exhausted:

And I worked in peace the rest of the day.

I apologize to those of you whose comments didn’t appear when you posted them.  Sometimes they get sent to the spam pile and sometimes I forget to check.  It often happens when you post links.  I love the links, so if you post something and it doesn’t appear, feel free to let me know so I can dig it out of the spam bin.

I went on a very enjoyable hike with the dogs today, took all sorts of photos, and now can’t find the USB cord (again).  So I’ve rifled through the many, many photos on my computer to find something to brighten the blog again and found these winter landscapes.

That last shot is the sun setting behind the hockey rink.   I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I love the color and the light in the winter.

Here’s a nice poem, though it’s not yet February:

FEBRUARY: THE BOY BREUGHEL  by Norman Dubie

The birches stand in their beggar's row:
Each poor tree
Has had its wrists nearly
Torn from the clear sleeves of bone,
These icy trees
Are hanging by their thumbs
Under a sun
That will begin to heal them soon,
Each will climb out
Of its own blue, oval mouth;
The river groans,
Two birds call out from the woods

And a fox crosses through snow
Down a hill; then, he runs,
He has overcome something white
Beside a white bush, he shakes
It twice, and as he turns
For the woods, the blood in the snow

Looks like the red fox,
At a distance, running down the hill:
A white rabbit in his mouth killed
By the fox in snow
Is killed over and over as just
Two colors, now, on a winter hill:

Two colors! Red and white. A barber's bowl!
Two colors like the peppers
In the windows
Of the town below the hill. Smoke comes
From the chimneys. Everything is still.

Ice in the river begins to move,
And a boy in a red shirt who woke
A moment ago
Watches from his window
The street where an ox
Who's broken out of his hut
Stands in the fresh snow
Staring cross-eyed at the boy
Who smiles and looks out
Across the roof to the hill;
And the sun is reaching down
Into the woods

Where the smoky red fox still
Eats his kill. Two colors.
Just two colors!
A sunrise. The snow.

I can’t post this latest Holly photo on the blog lest it blind you all with it’s potentially toxic levels of cute.  Seriously, put on some protective goggles or shades before clicking on this link.

Devin actually got a shot of me working at my “desk” today.  I will hide this photo also, only because I can’t bear to have it hanging on the wall of the blog.  So depressing.  Yes, it’s light out.  Yes, I’m in bed, where I have been since we turned the clocks back last fall.  Like the bear, I plan to emerge from my hibernation during the spring thaw, but unlike the bear, I might have to be removed from my “den” through a window, by a giant crane.  If you want to gain weight, which I know everybody does, I recommend that all work, play and eating take place in bed, in a semi-reclined position.  Like this.

I love the way Daphne is smiling at the camera.  She’s been enjoying our months in the beddesk as much as I have.