From The Recluse, Book One: Home at Grasmere
By William Wordsworth
This day is a thanksgiving, 'tis a day
Of glad emotion and deep quietness;
Not upon me alone hath been bestowed,
Me rich in many onward-looking thoughts,
The penetrating bliss; oh surely these
Have felt it, not the happy choirs of spring,
Her own peculiar family of love
That sport among green leaves, a blither train!
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Having visited Grasmere, this entire long poem really resonates for me, but I'm keeping the excerpt and everything else short since I know so many US people are traveling or dealing with relatives. I had a relatively quiet pre-Thanksgiving, which was what I wanted given that I want my cold to go away by the time I see my relatives tomorrow! I did venture out in the rain for lunch with
This Western Yellow Pine, trained since 1966, sits at the entrance to the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum on the arboretum grounds.
Some of the trees are accompanied by decorations like these debating scholars...
...this fisherman beneath a miniature tree...
...and this musician, perhaps an inch high.
This is another view of the Anacostia overlook. The leaves are long past peak but you get an idea of how pretty it is in the fall.
My husband sent me this article on Global Orgasm, an event we must not miss, with the query, "If enough people protest, will it be a mass debate?" which is one of my father's favorite bad jokes. Make love, not war, I say. Though we will be at my in-laws' which may require a certain amount of discretion. I think my pagan circle is celebrating the Solstice on the 17th, and both these joyous celebrations fall over Chanukah. *giggling* And on that note, have a lovely Thanksgiving everyone!
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