Happy Any Day

Merwin's poem below is an ode to a new year but really could be applied to a new day, new beginning, new age (Happy birthday, Dad!) or anything we approach with hope, however big or small.

To the New Year
W.S. Merwin

With what stillness at last
you appear in the valley
your first sunlight reaching down
to touch the tips of a few
high leaves that do not stir
as though they had not noticed
and did not know you at all
then the voice of a dove calls
from far away in itself
to the hush of the morning

so this is the sound of you
here and now whether or not
anyone hears it this is
where we have come with our age
our knowledge such as it is
and our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
untouched and still possible

Mr. T and Einstein

Mr. T

The most rational response to Merwin's loneliness when we leave him would be the acquisition of such a playmate as Mr. T, right?  This little guy is just about 1 year old and is up for adoption through the Cocker Spaniel Rescue of New England.  Sigh.  He is cute.

I'm also a little bit in love with Einstein, who is probably the most famous cocker spaniel of late.  Einstein belongs to George Clooney and is another example of a great adoption story even if George did utilize some unusual tactics to gain Einstein's affection.

I don't really want a second dog but organizations like these and stories like Einstein's make me grateful that people want to help dogs that really got the short end of the stick.  They deserve it.

To Snow or Not To Snow

You might be asking: "Kelly, did you get lost in stacks upon stacks of photos of Merwin?  Did you drown in fluffy piles of stuffed dog toys?  Did you finally give in and start your new job of Stay at Home Dog Mom, distracted by home schooling the pooch in Peanut Butter 101 and Squirrel Chasing for Beginners?"

There are no such explanations for my disappearance.  We did head south of the border for a few days after New Years, attempted a trip to Martha's Vineyard (always call ahead to make sure the ferries are running...), and enjoyed "skiing" at Sugar Loaf in Maine this past weekend (I "skiied" my way to the Lodge's spa).  So yeah, we've been busy, but that's a lame excuse.

Last year by this time, we had snow drifts flirting with our second floor windows and remarkably, I, lover of the white stuff, was slightly sick of it.  This year, it has been warm and relatively snowless.  We returned from the mountain Sunday evening to a few inches and although I missed the actual snowfall, it reminded me that I really love this poem.

Shoveling Snow

Kirsten Dierking

Mexican snowfall...

If day after day I was caught inside
this muffle and hush

I would notice how birches
move with a lovely hum of spirits,

how falling snow is a privacy
warm as the space for sleeping,

how radiant snow is a dream
like leaving behind the body

and rising into that luminous place
where sometimes you meet

the people you've lost. How
silver branches scrawl their names

in tangled script against the white.
How the curves and cheekbones

of all my loved ones appear
in the polished marble of drifts.

Another Year Come

Another Year Come
W.S. Merwin

I have nothing new to ask of you,
Future, heaven of the poor.
I am still wearing the same things.

I am still begging the same question
By the same light,
Eating the same stone,

And the hands of the clock still knock without entering.