In addition to the opening of pocket number 1 tomorrow (see below), we (like there is more than one brain behind this operation) will also be launching the classic (as in it started last year) Merwin Christmas countdown. This is one of the more pathetic displays of my dog obsession, but it also sucks up the life of the blog and allows no room for anything other than Merwin's mug through Christmas. So when I came across this poem today, I felt the need to post it since otherwise, it wouldn't see the light of the blog-o-sphere until 2013.

I have always had a thing for trees during this time of year and I love how the poet captures the idea of them "yearning upwards." The poem itself is quite vertical and the juxtaposition with the inevitable horizontalness of our futures is interesting. Let's not think too much about that countdown...

Vertical

by Linda Pasten

Perhaps the purpose
of leaves is to conceal
the verticality
of trees
which we notice
in December
as if for the first time:
row after row
of dark forms
yearning upwards.
And since we will be
horizontal ourselves
for so long,
let us now honor
the gods
of the vertical:
stalks of wheat
which to the ant
must seem as high
as these trees do to us,
silos and
telephone poles,
stalagmites
and skyscrapers.
But most of all
these winter oaks,
these soft-fleshed poplars,
this birch
whose bark is like
roughened skin
against which I lean
my chilled head,
not ready
to lie down.

Counting Down

It's November 30. Insignificant really, except for the fact that tomorrow is December 1. (JUMP FOR JOY!!!) You may recall that growing up, my family was very much into the Advent season and the countdown to Christmas. Since her retirement, my mom has delved into some crafting. Imagine my surprise and absolute delight when she presented us with our very own version of this classic Moran tradition! It's on the wall and ready for action beginning tomorrow!

Any Morning

  Any Morning
  William Stafford

  Just lying on the couch and being happy.
  Only humming a little, the quiet sound in the head.
  Trouble is busy elsewhere at the moment, it has
  so much to do in the world.

  People who might judge are mostly asleep; they can't
  monitor you all the time, and sometimes they forget.
  When dawn flows over the hedge you can
  get up and act busy.

  Little corners like this, pieces of Heaven
  left lying around, can be picked up and saved.
  People won't even see that you have them,
  they are so light and easy to hide.

  Later in the day you can act like the others.
  You can shake your head. You can frown.

Crazy Christmas Ckelly

While I believe I have successfully toned it down in recent years, my holiday excitement has not waned despite the forced purging of reindeer and snowman tchotchkes (seriously, spell check??). This past weekend we had the pleasure of journeying into my first-ever experience with a tree farm to select this year's iconic seasonal symbol. The conversation with the tree farmers went something like this:

Farmer: We've got lots of varieties!
Kelly: Which lasts the longest?
Farmer: Well they're all pretty fresh since you'll be cutting it down yourself.
Kelly: I need this thing until March.
Farmer: Um.

Yeah, so if you added thousands of tiny puppies and an unlimited supply of hot pizzas, I think a Christmas tree farm is my idea of heaven. After 45 minutes of fondling dozens of trees, investigating them for their scent sensibility, and carefully evaluating fullness, we agreed upon a beautiful balsam fir.

Is this real!?

Scientific analysis of tree structure.

Um, getting a good feel for the scent.

Installed!

Refreshment

We jaunted off to Martha's Vineyard for a visit with Simon's mom this weekend. What a refreshing, rejuvenating, and relaxing couple of days--long beach walks with Merwin, cozy fires and board games, yummy dinners. It was just what the doctor ordered!

A Poem For A Monday

Major thanks to MJ, who brought my attention to a writer who I somehow neglected for years. Rainer Maria Rilke was a German poet at the turn of the 20th century who like Merwin, seemed to utilize imagery, objects and careful diction to express his ideas through the description of moments, a feat I've always admired and tried to replicate in my own attempts. Writer Stuart Holroyd once commented that the "poetry which Rilke wrote to express and extend his experience...is one of the most successful attempts a modern man has made to orientate himself within his chaotic world." Who's chaotic life doesn't need some orientation?!

Day in Autumn
by Rainer Maria Rilke
translated by Mary Kinzie

After the summer's yield, Lord, it is time

to let your shadow lengthen on the sundials

and in the pastures let the rough winds fly.

As for the final fruits, coax them to roundness.

Direct on them two days of warmer light

to hale them golden toward their term, and harry

the last few drops of sweetness through the wine.

Whoever's homeless now, will build no shelter;

who lives alone will live indefinitely so,

waking up to read a little, draft long letters,   

and, along the city's avenues,

fitfully wander, when the wild leaves loosen.  

Biographical information and poem from www.poetryfoundation.org.

Three Days of Three Dogs

We're dog sitting for our friends' two Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, and they are just the cutest little things! It is a bit of an adventure to walk them--lots of tangled leashes and three noses trying to sniff their way in three different directions, but they're also massively adorable together. This morning, Merwin stopped abruptly to investigate a fascinating leaf pile and Luna plowed head-first into his butt...sort of like furry bumper cars.  Here are some noses.