dual personalities

Tag: Robert Frost

August 15, 2025

Up to the stone wall

by chuckofish

It’s Friday again–do you have plans for the weekend?

Me neither. I have been reading some poetry. Here’s one:

A Time to Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

–Robert Frost (1974-1963)

And I thought this was actually funny…

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October 15, 2019

Release one leaf at break of day

by chuckofish

Screen Shot 2019-10-14 at 2.14.24 PM.png
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.
–Robert Frost

I love October; it is my favorite month. But I feel that it is rushing by and that I am not able to savor its beauty. No long walks or day trips to mid-MO wine country. Well, c’est la vie. We do what we can.

This past weekend daughter #1 came for a short visit and we did get out on Saturday to a good estate sale where we did rather well. She got a chair and I got a Christmas present for someone. We also went out to lunch. And we met the wee babes at the local farmer’s market to watch them frolic on hay bales and in the corn box.

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They also came over afterwards for pizza and more time with the dollhouse.

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We were certainly living our best lives.

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The painting is Autumn Branches by Jan Schmuckal (found on Etsy.com).

3 Comments
October 24, 2018

Nothing gold can stay

by chuckofish

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Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

–Robert Frost

It is the time of year when I always think of this poem.

Keep your eyes open for the “Golden Hour” when the sun is just at the point on the horizon that the light is redder and softer than usual, and it hits the golden and orange leaves of the trees and turns them into molten gold.

All too soon it will be dark driving home and winter will be upon us. I am never ready for that.

[The painting is by Eric Sloane.]

3 Comments
July 13, 2017

Very star-like

by chuckofish

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Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,

And here on earth come emulating flies,

That though they never equal stars in size,

(And they were never really stars at heart)

Achieve at times a very star-like start.

Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.

–Robert Frost

John_Singer_Sargent_-_Carnation,_Lily,_Lily,_Rose_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg

We are currently experiencing the dog days of a flyover summer with daily temperatures soaring to 100+ degrees. There is still much to enjoy. I hope you are enjoying your summer!

The first picture is Fireflies at Ochanomizu, 1880, by Kobayashi Kiyochika; the second is John Singer Sargent, Carnation, Lily, Rose.

5 Comments
February 25, 2015

Have a nice Wednesday

by chuckofish

andrew_wyeth_snow_1

The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

(Robert Frost)

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bigroom(All paintings above by Andrew Wyeth and one bonus piece by N.C. Wyeth below)

nc wyeth

8 Comments
July 29, 2014

Twinklings

by chuckofish

john_singer_sargent

John Singer Sargent

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.

–“Fireflies in the Garden” by Robert Frost

“In the external scheme of things, shining moments are as brief as the twinkling of an eye, yet such twinklings are what eternity is made of — moments when we human beings can say “I love you,” “I’m proud of you,” “I forgive you,” “I’m grateful for you.” That’s what eternity is made of: invisible imperishable good stuff.”
–Fred Rogers

“Behold, I show you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.”
–I Corinthians 15:51-52

This is how my mind works.

The famous Whitelaw monument in the Glasgow Necropolis features the scripture from I Corinthians around its base.

The famous Whitelaw monument in the Glasgow Necropolis features the scripture from I Corinthians around its base.

 

3 Comments
February 5, 2014

And make rough winter everlastingly*

by chuckofish

N.C. Wyeth, "Snow Platform"

N.C. Wyeth, “Snow Platform”

Well, we are digging out from more snow. Aargh.

So here is a poem for a snowy day. The last verse is rather famous, but perhaps you have forgotten the earlier part.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, 1923

*William Shakespeare, “The Two Gentlemen of Verona”

4 Comments
October 28, 2013

To go with the drift of things

by chuckofish

I had a rather sad weekend, spending a good deal of it thinking about what I had been doing the weekend before when daughter #1 was visiting. I try not to do this, but it is hard.

I watched a depressing movie about Sylvia Plath (played by Gwyneth Paltrow).

And I read some sad poems.

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question ‘Whither?’

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

― Robert Frost, Reluctance

I watched some stressful World Series games. But this guy always cheers me up.

matheny3

I will miss our skipper in the off-season. See, there I go again! Well, onward and upward this week and go Cards!

4 Comments
October 14, 2013

Gathering leaves

by chuckofish

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It is that time of year when the leaves begin to fall and we begin to think about cleaning them up.

Gone are the days when we had lots of free help.

leaves

Sigh.

The boy did come over on Sunday and he helped me achieve an ant apocalypse by destroying a giant ant hill that had been built over the course of some years in a low wall surrounding a tree in the front yard. He came over for brunch, but somehow he always ends up doing some much-needed man-work around the house/yard, for which I am most appreciative.

Here’s a poem to start off the week. Have a good one!

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.
But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.
I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?
Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.
Next to nothing for use.
But a crop is a crop,
And who’s to say where
The harvest shall stop?”

― Robert Frost

5 Comments