Safely tucked away in my wallet, the clipping is beginning to yellow but it only sees the light of day once in this mesmerizing season. And it has become a tradition for me to present it to you each April.
If thou of fortune be bereft
And in thy stone there be but left,
Two loaves: sell one
And with the dole,
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.
I should note, I have many planted here, some so old they have only one or two bells left, but they still are fragrant like no other flower. And I should note too, there are always hyacinths in church at Easter in honor of my parents and sister.
Here is another poem I’m keeping and found years ago and wrote down for you then. But it is so appropriate for so many people who are “getting up there” — or are there — I am repeating it.
So many springs have passed me now
The sweet sound of bird song
And peeper chorus.
The drum roll of sudden showers
And cloud fleets coursing
Blue, blue skies.
My vintage wine come
In old, old bottles
Still sweet to tongue
With flowers of yesterday.
It was written by the late Ora E. Anderson who was an award-winning naturalist and artist.
But first we must mention Earth Day and wonder how all the developers are celebrating as they destroy more once-upon-a-time farmland or forested valley.
How about a change of pace?
A longtime friend, one of those blessed friends who continue to help me through this persistent difficulty, has a cat of which he is very fond.
“Fritz” has only three legs, one having been injured and then had to be amputated. But don’t feel sorry for Fritz, as he is quite pampered. He was having a health problem recently, so off he went to the veterinarian. His doting owner was given a prescription to be filled at the pharmacy.
Among the directions, were these warnings: Call a health care provider if the family member — and Fritz is indeed a family member — has any of the following symptoms: thoughts about suicide or dying; attempts to commit suicide; new or worse depression; panic attacks; trouble sleeping; etc.
So far, Fritz is not exhibiting any of these symptoms and is feeling much better, thank you, unless he is having insomnia, which seldom if ever is observed in a cat.
Toby seems to be adjusting to being an only child. Sometimes I will hear him call in the night, but he has always had bad dreams and then goes back to sleep.
But the other night, his call was especially shrill and I thought I should get up and check him, but I didn’t and when Judy came in the morning she was aghast to see Toby in the pasture without his grazing muzzle on, inhaling grass as fast as he could. Apparently, he had been rubbing his tail on the stall door and pulled the eyering out so the door swung open.
Freedom without that hateful muzzle was great, but the door blew shut and there he was in the dark all by himself and couldn’t get back in. For his escape, he was shut in his stall all day, as we didn’t know how long he’d been out or how much grass he’d had.
He was not a happy camper and was very vocal about his “time out.”
No, I didn’t get to ride on my 89th birthday, but with luck there is always next year.
I wish there were a way I could hug and thank each and every one of you for dozens of get-well, birthday and now sympathy cards. Consider yourselves hugged.