some joyful Tidbits

Dear Humans,

I have a couple of things to share. First, a speech Abbie made last night at 11:03 PM:

"Whooooa. Right when I unplugged that, you turned the light on. I felt like I unplugged the darkness."


And this bulletin just came in from my sister. "G" is my four going on five year old niece, Georgia.

"We just counted out 100 beads for a school project. G did the counting, and after 39 (she pronounces 'furty-nine') she asked me, 'Was that the first "furty?"' I said yes, and she said 'Furty. Furty-one. . . .'"


Here's a poem.


The Aim Was Song


Before man came to blow it right
The wind once blew itself untaught,
And did its loudest day and night
In any rough place where it caught.

Man came to tell it what was wrong:
It hadn't found the place to blow;
It blew too hard--the aim was song.
And listen--how it ought to go!

He took a little in his mouth,
And held it long enough for north
To be converted into south,
And then by measure blew it forth.

By measure. It was word and note,
The wind the wind had meant to be--
A little through the lips and throat.
The aim was song--the wind could see.


Robert Frost


And here you can see the results of an epic battle between Rocky, his rope toy, his tree (or what's left of it, which is a vertical stick right behind his shoulder), and a sunbeam.
(The sunbeam won.)