the music of nature

I think it’s high time for a poem, don’t you?

On the Grasshopper and the Cricket  
by John Keats
 
The poetry of earth is never dead:
   When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
   And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper's--he takes the lead
   In summer luxury,--he has never done
   With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
   On a lone winter evening, when the frost
      Has wrought silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
   And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
      The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.

Yes, there is a mention of "frost", but only a mention! Concentrate on the "hot sun" part–SOON to come (we hope)!

On other notes, The Mom finally got posting some more pictures on Facebook, one of which was a side-by-side of her parents each taking a turn holding her when she was a baby. A friend commented that she looks SO like her mom (thinking of how Cathie looks now, of course), to which she replied: "I consider that a very high compliment!"

Walk to Rivendell:  We begin our 6th day of travel from Weathertop.

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