drear is beautiful

Yesterday, indeed all our Happy Holidays weather this Holiday Season, could be an inspiration for Longfellow’s poem “The Rainy Day.” Though I might have been up and out walking - - if the weather is grim one nevertheless can walk down and up the stairs and around the underground garage, or go downstairs and work out in the gym - - my Happy Holidays role has been to survey StAndrewsBay from my favorite bayside window chair, myself being no more a good and healthy sign of energy than the day itself. 

Yet at 82 one who is aware and able is still and always mindful, thanks to the outlook of a brother-close friend who will be that forever, that every day is a beautiful day. Grateful for Time and memories and for having shared in Genesis 2:7, “Then the Lord God formed an earthling from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the earthling became a living being.”

Here’s that poem to go with the image of Depression that yesterday spread out before us

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary. 

But here’s a picture from my chair of this lovely early morning moment that has me sitting here sipping a cup of black and typing pensively, somewhat pensively, remembering other Times in my life when Joe drove away.

DThos+ in +Time+