Monday, November 25, 2024

Poem for Monday and Bellevue Botanical d'Lights

Voting as Fire Extinguisher 
By Kyle Tran Myhre 

When the haunted house catches fire:
a moment of indecision.

The house was, after all, built on bones,
and blood, and bad intentions.

Everyone who enters the house feels
that overwhelming dread, the evil
that perhaps only fire can purge.

It’s tempting to just let it burn.

And then I remember:
there are children inside.

-------- 

Monday felt almost like a normal day, or would have if it hadn't been Thanksgiving week with double the laundry, one quarter of the food, and cats who are still anxious, plus my night guard is giving me migraines so I have had a splitting headache all day. Most of the chores that needed to get done got done and we took a walk to the beach, where the broken play equipment I posted yesterday is now behind a protective fence. We did see an eagle and buffleheads. 

Our cat-sitter neighbors came over to chat, I had soup for dinner because of the headache, and now I'm working on sorting and packing for Thanksgiving while watching the Ravens beating the Chargers, a big second half after a close first half. Bellevue Botanical Garden was setting up its holiday light display when we were there the weekend before the bomb cyclone, so here are some pictures of what will be Garden d'Lights when the event goes live November 30th:

2024-11-17 14.59.07

2024-11-17 14.57.52

2024-11-17 14.52.22

2024-11-17 14.24.32

2024-11-17 14.56.23

2024-11-17 14.26.11

2024-11-17 14.58.54

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