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Saturday, December 31, 2011

Poet's Heart - Dale Kavanagh

"Time, determination and love."









In My Craft or Sullen Art

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labor by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.

Dylan Thomas - Deaths and Entrances (1946)






Monday, December 26, 2011

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Flying Bluenose











Robie Tufts' first honeymoon happened in the early 1900's when steam engines were still the primary means of transportation in the Valley through to Yarmouth.  Boarding the big train in Wolfville on a hot summer day, Robie soon complained about the heat, stuffy cars and feeling extremely uncomfortable about lighting a cigar with so many women in tight quarters.  If the gentleman in him was considerate of the ladies and their health, it was the claustrophobic gambler groom that compelled him to think outside the box.  When the train stopped in Kentville for more passengers, he inquired with the conductor if it would be possible to ride out some of the remaining trip to Digby on the cow catcher to the front of the engine where it would be cooler.  The conductor fearing for Robie's life pleaded with him not to go as did his new wife.  To this he snapped: "... my ticket doesn't say where I sit on the train."

Now with a beautiful day's view all out in front of him, perched on the cow catcher, he had lighted cigar in hand before the Bluenose steamed out of Kentville.  As they rolled along past woodlands, farms, fields in the shadow of the North Mountain he remembered how wonderful it felt to be alive.  But as the train moved into pure agricultural land it began picking up speed.  Soon he was being pelted with beetles, flies, grasshoppers and dragonflies as they high balled between stops.  "I was obliged to put my hands up for some distance to protect my face" he said.   Battered with bug juice for his experience, but none the worse for wear - when they reached Middleton he retreated to the passenger car with his new wife for the rest of the ride to Digby.

  

Monday, December 19, 2011

Church Street Mojo & More









Grade 'A' Meat






"The unconscious mind is extremely sensitive to context. … A group of doctors was given a small bag of candy and another group was given nothing. Then they were all asked to look at a patient’s history and make a diagnosis. The doctors who got the candy were quicker to detect the liver problem than those who didn’t.”
 From David Brooks - The Social Animal

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Stay Gold






 Nothing Gold Can Stay

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 - 1923