By Christina Rossetti
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a daïs of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
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We had lots of potential plans for Saturday -- it was Privateer Day in Fells Point in Baltimore, it was the Spring Studio Tour of the Sugarloaf Artisans, it's the beginning of azalea season in local gardens. However, there was a flash flood warning when we woke up, two severe thunderstorm warnings over the course of the day, and a tornado warning just before we were about to go out. Since it rained continuously and heavily, we finally gave up and called my parents, who had expressed interest in seeing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part One. We went over there with the DVD and watched the movie and the deleted scenes (yay, more Dursleys).
Then we briefly took Adam home so he could walk our neighbor's dogs -- Daniel stayed to hang out with my parents -- before going back to have pizza. I had started organizing a bunch of online documents earlier in the day, so I finished that, and in the evening we watched this week's Camelot, which was okay, though I'm utterly confused about exactly what the nuns taught Morgan and why her relationship with them is so love-hate, and I really loathe what they did with the Lady of the Lake -- more realistic Merlin is one thing but Joseph Fiennes is pretty despicable. Here are a few very mediocre photos of my street on a very rainy evening:
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