The Human Seasons
By John Keats
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honeyed cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto Heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook:—
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
Since I could not be in London for the Diamond Jubilee celebrations, I spent some of Monday catching up online -- we get the concert on US television tomorrow night, but there was a lot of footage on the web of the Thames pageant and various street parties. Otherwise, it was not an exciting day -- the weather was gorgeous yet again, there were several bunnies when I walked outside, Adam starts finals for the year tomorrow and Daniel tried without success to fix his friend's fried computer.
We had veggie bangers and mash for dinner, then Paul suggested that we watch Doctor Who's "The Idiot's Lantern" since it's about the Queen's coronation. So we did that, then we watched "The Shakespeare Code" and "Gridlock" because they're both quite British and wonderful. In case we were taking it all too seriously, Jon Stewart just finished laughing at both the British and at CNN's coverage of the pageantry. Here are some of the crafts from the Washington Folk Festival:
Don't forget the transit of Venus if you're somewhere you can see it!