Poem for Monday and Raiders of the Lost Ark

Summer in the South
By Paul Laurence Dunbar

The oriole sings in the greening grove
            As if he were half-way waiting,
            The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
            Timid and hesitating.

The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
            And the nights smell warm and piney,
The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
            Are yellow-green and tiny.
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,
            Streams laugh that erst were quiet,
The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue
            And the woods run mad with riot.

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Sunday was as hot as Saturday, though we spent most of it indoors visiting Paul's parents in Hanover. We drove up in the morning and went out to lunch at Chipotle, stopped at the Utz Factory store for snacks, drove by the site of a recent disastrous manure plant fire, then went back to their house to see if we could figure out some problems with their computer and make plans for when David, Jon, and their families visit the east coast in a few weeks. Daniel is staying with them for a couple of days, so in the late afternoon we drove home without him.

We just spent the evening watching Raiders of the Lost Ark long distance with Cheryl, because we've all been in the mood for it since we went to the National Geographic archaeology exhibit with the Indiana Jones film clips and props. It holds up really well -- still has problematic issues with portrayals of people of color and still doesn't win any feminist awards, but it's still fun and funny and the pacing of the action sequences is great. Here are some photos from the aforementioned exhibit of props, costumes, and storyboards from the movie: