By Willa Cather
Evening and the flat land,
Rich and sombre and always silent;
The miles of fresh-plowed soil,
Heavy and black, full of strength and harshness;
The growing wheat, the growing weeds,
The toiling horses, the tired men;
The long empty roads,
Sullen fires of sunset, fading,
The eternal, unresponsive sky.
Against all this, Youth,
Flaming like the wild roses,
Singing like the larks over the plowed fields,
Flashing like a star out of the twilight;
Youth with its insupportable sweetness,
Its fierce necessity,
Its sharp desire,
Singing and singing,
Out of the lips of silence,
Out of the earthy dusk.
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We spent most of Saturday doing major chores -- we are planning to rearrange and get some new furniture for Daniel's room, which requires organizing and cleaning the room, which is a massive project, plus we watched most of the Maryland-JMU game, which Adam attended in College Park and which the Terps won by a very big margin! The Orioles and Nationals won too!
Now we are watching Doctor Who, which we missed when it aired earlier (Zawe Ashton!), because we were out having Indian food at Curry Mantra with my friend Annmarie, who has moved back to the DC area after several years in North Carolina. This is our Renfaire weekend (PA on Sunday, MD on Monday), so I will be mostly gone for the rest of it. Here is Daisy begging for attention:
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