I have done some interesting things this week. Here are a few of them. I made chicken and hominy soup. It is corny and hot-ish and liquid. Perfect for summer you say, shaking your head. I have eaten it every day with these chocolately cherry cookies. I explained to someone who Almanzo James Wilder is. Tonight I toppled a full bowl on warm soup on my person. The carpet will not recover. The clothes were removed and replaced. Drip dry. Reviewed the film Becoming Jane with the expected apprehension which was grounded (not being rooted in fact, concern for the actors, etc). Blindly, I enjoy all period pieces. Called a woman Grace whose name was indeed Frances. I blame the era these names were à la mode. I wore goggles for the second time this summer in the attempt to become a champion swimmer. I happened upon this fitting poem and knew it should be passed on.
The Woman in Sunshine
Wallace Stevens
It is only that this warmth and movement are like
The warmth and movement of a woman.
It is not that there is any image in the air
Nor the beginning nor end of a form:
It is empty. But a woman in threadless gold
Burns us with brushings of her dress
And a dissociated abundance of being,
More definite for what she is—
Because she is disembodied,
Bearing the odors of the summer fields,
Confessing the taciturn and yet indifferent,
Invisibly clear, the only love.
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Speaking of period pieces, I found myself flat-out bawling without shame while viewing Anne of Green Gables on PBS this past weekend. I am pathetic.
ktg, it is sometimes rare when one is so affected. how nice. i so want to be moved emotionally in film. my friend and her mother are touring the area now. no doubt in braids and plaid.
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