midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core

-Yeats "The Lake Isle of Innisfree"

We are leaving for Vancouver Island, Canada for a last bit of summer.

When we get back it will be time rid the house of all of the sand that seems to keep appearing in our beds, put on scratchy school uniforms, rent instruments, and get serious about a few projects.


Image via

midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

- Yeats, The Lake Isle of Innisfree

We are off to natural hot springs, a cabin in the woods, and the ocean. This is the magic of living in the Pacific Northwest. When we return it will be time to think about preparing Tadzio for another year at the French school, navy blue uniforms, and whether or not to sign up for that poetry class.

Take care in these last days of summer.

Image by Marc Bordons via Feaverish Photography

out to the hazel wood

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread...

Just a little over a week until we leave for vacation. Stay cool in these late days of summer, I'll be reading your poetry.


Image via Feaverish Photography