Encore

And the very next night, there was an encore performance by The Sunset (producer: God). I missed tonight’s–don’t even know if it was spectacular or not (if it was, don’t tell me), but here are the ones from Sunday. . .straight out of the camera–not even a little fiddle.

Again with the race. . .

This is the sunset through a very large pine tree out the side window of the car while Tony was trying to get me to the clearing again. . .thought it was cool.

After that, all I did was press the button. No skill involved. Just a really good camera. . .and some spectacular sky.

The black dots (if you click to enlarge it) are birds. . .and that’s the real color.

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Sunset and Evening Star. . .

Lovely poem from which I stole my title is here: Crossing the Bar
Thank you, Lord Tennyson.

Last night, I looked up and saw through the trees that the sunset was going to be magnificent. Not too far away from us is a clearing where you can actually see the sky, as the sky nearest us is blocked somewhat by equally beautiful–though not sunset colored–trees. We hustled everyone to the car and took off.


Racing to “catch” the sunset. . .

So worth the race.

Ooooooo. . .

. . .aaaahhhhhhhhh. . .

No words. . .

Not the sunset. . .but still interesting.

Is it just me, or does this thick cloud deck appear to be the curtain closing on the day. . .

Book Review: Callie Vee

I am trying to categorize my posts. . .working away slowly at them, and one of the categories is books. I love to read words as much as I love to write them and say them. . .especially when the person putting pen to paper has a way with them.

Back in the fall, I discovered a new juvenile fiction book, The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate. It’s wonderfully written. Funny. Sharp. The Author, Jacqueline Kelly, was born in New Zealand, reared in western Canada, and wrote a book (this one) about life on a cotton farm near the San Marcos River in Texas. Don’t ask me how, but she did a fine job of it too. The story begins in the summer time with Callie Vee trying to figure out ways to stay cool in the 1899 Texas summer heat–including swimming (without permission and ALONE) in the San Marcos river, and cutting off her hair one inch per week. It ends with her becoming a naturalist and developing a close bond with her somewhat distant grandfather.

Here is a blurb from the cover: “As Callie explores the natural world around her, she develops a close relationship with her grandfather, naivgates the dangers of living with six brothers, and learns just what it means to be a girl at the turn of the century.”

And, from the book, “My name is Calpurnia Virginia Tate, but back then everybody called me Callie Vee. That summer, I was eleven years old and the only girl out of seven children. Can you imagine a worse situation? I was spliced midway between three older brothers–Harry, Sam Houston, and Lamar–and three younger brothers–Travis, Sul Ross, and the baby, Jim Bowie, whom we called J.B. The little boys actually managed to sleep at midday, sometimes even piled atop one another like damp, steaming puppies.”

I don’t know if I’ve ever HEARD a better description of little, summertime boys. . .

Anyway. It’s a good read–won’t take long–well written–I HIGHLY recommend it.

Re-Post “Lover of Letters, Lover of Words”

Since my (blog worthy) words seem to have taken a vacation as of late< I'll repost from back (September, 2007) when I waxed poetic over my love of them . . .
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R
O
Magnet
A
letter n
N
e

My dear friend over at Bringing Up Daisy has just ruined my life.

I have loved letters since I was a VERY small child. I remember my mother getting onto me for putting a little tail on the end of my manuscript lower-case “a” when I was in kindergarten. “But it’s my CURSIVE ‘a,'” I remember saying plaintively. To no avail, she and my kindergarten teacher, our across-the-street-neighbor, Lucille, would have none of it.

I remember in 1st grade when my mother PAINSTAKINGLY printed the letters of my name

R O X A N N E

onto a little home-made, pink bag on which she had embroidered a yellow kitty sitting next to a red flower and looking at a blue butterfly. She then embroidered my name in black so it would stand out. It was my special bag to hold my flashcards. I was a struggling reader (IMAGINE THAT), and she was trying to encourage me to learn my sight words. She wasn’t happy with any of the iron-on embroidery letters she had, so she printed her own. I still have that bag.

I remember in 2nd grade when my school teacher mother finally threw up her hands and gave into my demands to learn to write in cursive. After years of “It’s too early.” “You’re doing it wrong.” “You’ll learn in 3rd grade.” She finally one day said, “If you’re going to do it, I might as well teach you the RIGHT way.”

I remember in 3rd grade when Mrs. Kennedy said, “Boys and girls, several of you are having trouble making a cursive capital B. I would like for one of our students to come and make one on the board so you can see how it should be done. Roxanne, would you please go and write a cursive capital B?” I was so excited and proud and nervous. . .I think it was the WORST capital B I ever made.

I cannot count the number of times I’ve written my alphabet for fun.

I have huge words on my wall at school in several fonts which I got from our library computers and blew up to larger sizes made out of several colors of scrapbook paper. It’s the Fruit of the Spirit in the guise of a word wall.

I’m so sneaky.

And when I just went in search of the name for someone like me–a lover of letters–a lover of words–I found this instead,

“From my youth upwards, I have been a lover of words, a chooser of words, in a slender and superficial manner, a student of words, and instead of acquiescing in such disparagement, reducing them almost to ‘ airy nothing,’ I proclaim myself ready to maintain against all comers that words are things; nay, and things of pith and moment, life and passion. Have we not the right word, the very word, the word of advice, the word in season, the word of comfort, the warning word, the cruel word, and the kind one? And what are these but things? How they fasten themselves on our memory, with a grasp never to be shaken off while life endures! How our associations cling and swarm, and cluster round them! How our hearts beat at the sound with recollected joy, grief, pity, hope, indignation, or gratitude! Things! Nay, I am more inclined to call them persons, in such vivid individuality of feature do they rise before ‘ the eye of mind.’ Have they not also—at least the more distinguished of their race—their pedigrees, their biographies, their private, sometimes their scandalous, histories and anecdotes? Are there not among them ranks and degrees, nobles and commoners, decent people and rabble, natives and aliens, legitimates and illegitimates, pure breeds and mongrels?”

From Memoirs, Miscellanies, and Letters of the Late Lucy Aikin

Isn’t that just wonderful? If I can’t take the credit for making those statements, at least I found them to enjoy.

And I swanee, this Flickr site is Satan’s candy.

“From the Indies to the Andies in his Undies”. . .

. . .because “From the Arctic to Texas in January” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

If you’re not familiar with the song, treat yourself to some funny, old stuff and watch the video. Then, see some photos of ICE and KIDS and FROZEN WATER!!!!

And we’re off. . .

So, Tony and kids went back to school FOR REAL today. I go back to school for fake. Meaning, I am going to plan with my team and find my school teacher hat that is, at this moment, lying dusty and neglected in a far corner of my classroom. I have to put it back on so my school teacher brain can worm its way back into my skull. Sounds like fun, huh?

Meanwhile–I have linked you to Joshilyn Jackson more than once, but she and some of her friends are doing a weight loss blog calle “Five Full Plates”–there is a competition of sorts–I think it’s losing 10 lbs. Anyway–they are some witty chicks. I highly recommend that you go and read their rantings. Todays, “29 Ways to Boost Your Metabolism” is particularly snarky and hilarious.

It’s real gals trying to lose real weight, but mostly trying to have a healthier more fit lifestyle. That’s me too. We’ll all see how it goes.