By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
After the fierce midsummer all ablaze
Has burned itself to ashes, and expires
In the intensity of its own fires,
There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days
Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze.
So after Love has led us, till he tires
Of his own throes, and torments, and desires,
Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze,
He beckons us to follow, and across
Cool verdant vales we wander free from care.
Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?
Why are we haunted with a sense of loss?
We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;
And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.
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I had a fairly quiet Wednesday morning doing boring stuff, then Adam and I went to Bagel City to get bagels for lunch and bagels to bring home. He spent most of the day organizing his room, sorting what he needs to ship, what he needs to pack, what he wants to store, what he wants to give away, and what he needs to throw out. I did one Armored Mewtwo raid when they appeared after 5 p.m., then we had dinner together.
Paul had discovered that Capricorn One was on Amazon Prime, and since that is apparently the basis of so many moon landing conspiracy theories, we figured it was a good week to watch it. I knew O.J. Simpson was in it but I didn't realize it also had both of Barbra Streisand's husbands and other familiar faces. It feels surprisingly undated in some ways though it looks very 70s. Elephants from the Maryland Zoo:
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