Wednesday, June 24, 2009

On Saturday we will be scattered to the four winds: the boys are going to canoe camp, I'm going to the Frost Place, and Tom gets to be a private person at home for a week, which I'm sure will be a treat for him, despite the fact he'll have to do chicken chores. Last year I lost a considerable amount of weight at the Frost Place, mostly from being too worked up to eat. I have a hard time eating when I'm putting on a show, as I'll be doing all week long. Fortunately, there is Polly's Pancake Parlor up the hill and around the corner, where I will spend $11 every morning on buckwheat pancakes and fresh strawberries and good coffee. I could thriftily do my own cooking in Robert Frost's kitchen, but I cook all the time at home, and I'd rather sacrifice the $11 in hopes of a daily scrap of digestive cheerfulness. Plus, those buckwheat pancakes are really good.

Here is this week's Milly Jourdain poem:


The winter sunlight when it gleams
          So cold and fair;
Makes silver rivers of the roads
          All straight and bare,
And singing birds in misty trees
         Are no more dumb,
They sing of warmer days; I wish
          That they would come.


Mr. Hill said...

I am loving these Jourdain poems.

Dawn Potter said...

And here I was thinking they might not be up your modernist alley.

Mr. Hill said...

oh no, I like quaint, little poems too.

sheila said...

Is the lunchtime repast going to be the same as last year? I loved the flowers peeking out of the salad.

Dawn Potter said...

I think so, as long as the flowers of New Hampshire haven't all rotted in the summer of rain.