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.