Wednesday Words

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Happy Wednesday

Dagny contributes a verse

Audrey sent me this picture.

It seems that our Dagny created the above tableau and requested that a photo of said scene be sent directly to Mamaw "for the blog."

Isn't that just the cree most creative thing you've seen in a long time?

There may be genius lurking behind that pretty face.

Seriously, though ... after contemplating whether to suggest that we immediately contact a kiddie psychologist, I concluded that Dagny simply watches perhaps more than her fair share of Elsa and Anna YouTubes.

And has been corrupted inspired by these small but mighty, vinyl but vivacious ... influencers.

Ergo this -- ahem -- art installation should be taken at face value.

No cause for alarm.

I'm sure.

All the same, I'm going to lie down.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday

Poe me some more

When I returned home from Baltimore, in a fit of renewed fangirl fanaticism I ordered a Poe mug and Poe-ka-Dot socks that had been on my Amazon wish list since last fall.

I had put them there to give the family inexpensive gift ideas. They bought me even nicer stuff instead.

But I had rewards credits to spend, so I got the socks and the mug and have been enjoying both more than I should.

The coffee is a given in any weather but it's been right chilly here, and I've needed those socks.

Would you look at that whorl of steam I captured (not by any talent I possess, but still) with my phone, as the freshly perked coffee went into that mug?

Sometimes I have to stop and marvel.

Speaking of marveling, there is the beauty of my two younger daughters to gaze upon each Sunday, when we're all at church together.

This past Sunday, we were all wearing black. Like a congress of ravens. Did you know that if we were actual ravens and had bad intentions, we'd be called an unkindness of ravens? Or a conspiracy of ravens? It's the raven equivalent to a murder of crows. 

Now I should throw in here, I wear black ninety-five percent of the time. It's my favorite color. Ravenesque.

My girls wear it a lot too so it's not really unusual to see all of us wearing black at the same time. We consider it fashionable rather than funereal.

(In this case, I had chosen a skirt that was brown with a flocked black velvet pattern, so I wasn't totally blacked out. The necessary pop of color was added by my handbag, which was mustard yellow.)

But in a wrinkle that's almost unheard of on any particular day, Audrey and Erica were wearing identical sweaters.

Back to those Christmas wish lists. Audrey had this black crushed-velvet sweater on hers last year.

So naturally, Erica bought it for her. But unlike me, who left it to the fates as to whether I'd receive the Poe mug and Poe-ka-Dot socks, Audrey wasn't willing to risk not getting that sweater.

She bought it for herself. To wear during the Christmas season.

Erica, when she learned of the situation, did what any girl would do: she hung the superfluous sweater in her own closet.

And they forgot to text one another on Sunday, to determine whether the coast was clear to wear it without twinning.

But I thought it was utterly charming -- they say twinning is winning -- so we pressed Brittany into service, to take these pictures of us together.

It's fitting that I show them to you today, because today is Audrey's birthday.

We will be celebrating her all day, and having a party tonight, and another party next Tuesday to further honor her and also Andrew, whose birthday is one week from today.

My spring babies! Three of my four came in spring and I think that's the loveliest time to have a baby.

So I think I'll Poe another cup and think about that some more, before getting busy.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Weekend :: Happy Spring

Poetry. Prose. Poes.

I promised to tell you what I did for my birthday -- after the first wave of parties, on which I've already reported.

Well here you go: TG took me to Baltimore, to visit the grave of Edgar Allan Poe.

That's me (the first picture -- not the second) on the afternoon of my birthday, paying my respects to the author of The Raven.

It may not seem like much to you, but to me it was a big deal.

I mean, consider that my car -- a black Cadillac -- is nicknamed The Raven. Its license plate is NVRMORE. And there's a stuffed raven in the back window. Which shall be lifted nevermore!

(Although, said raven was lifted out so as to receive a sprucing up via spray-painting before we left South Carolina bound for Virginia and Maryland.)

(He'd faded in the South Carolina sun. Yes; TG taped over his eyes and beak so as to leave them shiny.)

And so it was that, on the day before my birthday, we set out for Richmond, Virginia.

There's a historic cemetery in Richmond that I'd wanted to visit for many years. Three presidents are buried there. I'll tell you about that on another day, and show you many pictures.

On my birthday we had a leisurely morning and then continued on to Baltimore, arriving there at around four in the afternoon.

We went straight to Poe's grave, even before checking in to our hotel.

TG let me out at the curb because traffic was heavy, and went to find a parking spot, which took longer than either of us would have liked.

It was extremely cold and windy. I was not dressed warmly enough so, after spending about fifteen minutes with EAP, I began walking quickly around, taking pictures.

The Gothic Revival Westminster Hall was once a Presbyterian church; now the building is used only for secular purposes. The Burying Ground, which surrounds it, is meticulously maintained.

There are some late eighteenth-century graves as well as many from the early part of the nineteenth century. 

The graves wrap all the way around the church and even continue in a crawl space under a breezeway, where I was bent nearly double in order to take a few pictures. For you!

Not to worry; it was well-lit because it goes all the way through to the front of the church.

Where there are yet more graves.

Edgar Allan Poe's grave and monument is situated directly inside an ornate black wrought iron gate, just a few feet from the corner of Fayette and Greene Streets in downtown Baltimore.

He is flanked by his mother-in-law, Maria Poe Clemm (who was also his aunt) and his wife, Virginia Clemm Poe (who was also his cousin). Their epitaphs appear on the sides of his monument.

They're three Poes in a pod. 

Edgar Allan Poe died at the age of forty, in October of 1849. Virginia predeceased him in January of 1847, at the age of twenty-four. She died of tuberculosis; the exact cause of Poe's demise remains a mystery.

Less than a week after Poe collapsed on Lombard Street in Baltimore and was taken to the Washington Medical College, where he died after four days of fever and delirium, he was placed in an unmarked grave in the rear of Westminster Presbyterian Church, about a hundred yards from where he is now interred.

He lay in that grave from 1849 until 1875, when concerned citizens who had labored for twelve years to raise the money for a new and better resting place and a monument befitting his stature, moved Poe to the front of the burying ground. 

On Poe's otherwise flawless monument, the wrong date is given for his birth -- it's January 19, 1809, but is listed as January 20.

Later, a proper stone was placed on a plot that purports to be Poe's original burial site. It lists the date when he was placed in that grave two days after his death, until the date his remains were moved to his new seat on the front row.

Also in the cemetery are many of Poe's relatives other than his mother-in-law and wife, including his brother, William Henry Leonard Poe (also a writer), and his grandfather, David Poe, Sr.

What a treat it was to spend an hour among them, and others whose lives are commemorated there.

There's lots more to tell about our trip, but I'll save it for another day.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

Wednesday Words

= Yogi Berra =

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Happy Wednesday