Gathering Stars

In Cabresto Canyon all was quiet and dark except for the last sliver of Moon winking at the Sun. The breeze skipped across the forest floor bringing the tingly, earthy scent of pine needles to the star-watchers. It then left the floor to dance in the heights imitating rain in the aspen leaves. I layed on the half-rotted deck, ancient, rusty nails prodded my back and legs whenever I moved. While Mrs. Anderson on one side and Chloe on the other pointed to the different constellations, Mama and I watched as the older stars crept nearer as newer ones appeared behind. I felt like the stars were so close that I could reach up and gather them into my pocket. As the breeze left for greater and higher games I watched puffs of steam rise across the deck from every frozen nose.

In Cabresto Canyon all was quiet and dark while nine cold and tired people dragged themselves inside to curl up by the fire and toast s’mores.

Creation's Troubadour

One of our rhetoric assignments is to write an English or Shakespearean Sonnet. Fourteen lines of iambic pentameter, three quatrains and one couplet. The rhyme pattern is abab, cdcd, efef, gg. This is the first poem I have ever written and I'm rather excited with how it turned out.

I never read a book that could surpass
The elven histories that have been told
By those historians who, in the grass,
Pay homage to the troubadours of old.
I never saw a film that could retell
In grandeur satisfactory the tale
Of Quasimodo and his glorious bell,
Or show the beauty of old Durin's dale.
I never heard a song that could impart
To all creation God's most wond'rous love
More fully than the highest French Horn part
that soars in celebration of each cove.
Creation is its own inspired Bard
More lovely, poignant than a greeting card.

The Monster Food

Hearken to my tale and heed my warnings for there may come a time when you will be called upon to defend your family from monsters. This monster does not live in a closet or under the bed; it makes its home in the kitchen. It sits in the oven or refrigerator waiting for some unsuspecting victim to become curious enough to pull it from its hiding place. Tomatoes, zucchinis, breadcrumbs, and cheese make the substance of this hideous casserole. The tomatoes are sliced thickly so there is no chance of avoiding them and even the tiniest bits squirt hot juice down your throat when bitten into. The zucchinis are not much better. They have been cut into fat rounds that soak up the tomato juice and the cooking oil and transform those into a slime that they use as their only defense mechanism by coating your tongue and throat as they slip and slide around your mouth and down your throat. The breadcrumbs are the vilest members of this noisome dish. Spread thoroughly across the top they get the full brunt of the oven’s heat which transforms the finest crumb into a piece of sand-like grit that etches its existence on unsuspecting teeth. The cheese lies limply across the vegetables, it has no more ambition to make things taste good than the sloth has to work.

Beware the monster casserole that waits within your ‘fridge. Siren-like it will seduce you with bewitching scents but it will destroy your will to try new foods forever.

Bubble Castles

The air sparkled like a diamond, the sky was bright with sunshine hidden by clouds that had given all they could, and the breeze wafted the clean, sweet scent of greasewood toward the green-roofed cabin on the tree-line. All morning wave after wave of wet warriors had swept across the meadow, throwing themselves against the ground in futile attempts to crush the defiant foliage. The triumphant vegetation stood proud and dripping, each sagebrush leaf and meadow grass spike was coated in the remains of defeated raindrops.

I sat on the weather stained porch tracing the paths of long dead worms in the log walls of the cabin. My small purple plastic jar sat open on the wide grey plank beside me with its bright green wand peeking over the rim. I pulled the wand out of its soapy hiding place and blew one glorious, wobbly, gigantic bubble. As it floated toward the meadow I dreaded its inevitable demise. It drifted downward and settled intact on the meadow grass. I blew another and another and watched in awe as the bubbles joined forces with the remains of the raindrops to vanquish the meadow, not by force or strength but beauty. My family joined me and barefoot in the mud we spent the afternoon on the meadow building castles made of soap with neon green and pink wands.

Chichester Psalms*

For those of you who don't know I'm in the school choir and for our spring concert on April 21 we are performing, among other things, the Chichester Psalms composed by Leonard Bernstein. Dr. Erb has told us to find a version to listen to, and I thought I'd let y'all find it right here. I love the theme of the first movement, and the surprise in the second movement valde mihi placet. *Ahem* Sorry, it makes me very happy. Enjoy!

Chichester Psalms for Chorus and Orchestra/I. Psalm 108 (verse 2) & Psalm 100 (complete) - New York Philharmonic;Leonard Bernstein

Chichester Psalms For Chorus And Orchestra/II. Psalm 23, entire; Psalm 2, verses 1 - 4* - Leonard Bernstein

Chichester Psalms For Chorus And Orchestra/III. Psalm 131, entire; Psalm 133, verse 1 - Leonard Bernstein

White As Snow*

This is the most amazing song. Only U2 could write a song about a Muslim dying of a gunshot wound and looking for 'the lamb as white as snow' and actually get away with it. People will be going around singing it without realizing what they are saying. My favorite element of the song is the melody. They use the main theme from O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, but they never get to "Rejoice! Rejoice!" because there is nothing for the Muslim to rejoice about.

White As Snow - U2

The Fortnightly Purse at Amoretti

This is one of the coolest purses so far. Check it out!

Amoretti