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Don's Blog SIXTY-FIVE 8-18-26

> > >> >> On this day 65 years ago the love of my life, Jan Elizabeth Feldwisch and I were married at the >> Pilgrim Congregational Church on Union Boulevard in St Louis. We are still full of joy and kindness. It was the best choice of my life. >

>> >> >> >> >> We are going to stop counting years but each new seasonal cycle will continue the possibility of enduring love. >>

>> >> >> >

Don's Blog SIXTY-FIVE 8-18-26

> > On this day 65 years ago the love of my life, Jan Elizabeth Feldwisch and I were married at the > Pilgrim Congregational Church on Union Boulevard in St Louis. We are still full of joy and kindness. It was the best choice of my life.

> > > > We are going to stop counting years but each new seasonal cycle will continue the possibility of enduring love. >

> >

Flower for the Day Butterfly Bush 8-17-26

> > The butterfly bush (Budddleja davidii) has been a faithful perennial for over half a century. My experience has been that it draws more hummingbirds than butterflies, and an occasional beauty. >  > > We have both purple and white flowers. >  > > Here is a poem that addresses both dreams and reality nicely. > > Antidotes to Fear of Death > Sometimes as an antidote > To fear of death, > I eat the stars. > Those nights, lying on my back, > I suck them from the quenching dark > Til they are all, all inside me, > Pepper hot and sharp. > Sometimes, instead, I stir myself > Into a universe still young, > Still warm as blood: > No outer space, just space, > The light of all the not yet stars > Drifting like a bright mist, > And all of us, and everything > Already there > But unconstrained by form. > And sometime it’s enough > To lie down here on earth > Beside our long ancestral bones: > To walk across the cobble fields > Of our discarded skulls, > Each like a treasure, like a chrysalis, > Thinking: whatever left these husks > Flew off on bright wings. > Ramona Elson >

Flower for the Day Butterfly Bush 8-17-26

The butterfly bush (Budddleja davidii) has been a faithful perennial for over half a century. My experience has been that it draws more hummingbirds than butterflies, and an occasional beauty.  We have both purple and white flowers.  Here is a poem that addresses both dreams and reality nicely. Antidotes to Fear of Death Sometimes as an antidote To fear of death, I eat the stars. Those nights, lying on my back, I suck them from the quenching dark Til they are all, all inside me, Pepper hot and sharp. Sometimes, instead, I stir myself Into a universe still young, Still warm as blood: No outer space, just space, The light of all the not yet stars Drifting like a bright mist, And all of us, and everything Already there But unconstrained by form. And sometime it’s enough To lie down here on earth Beside our long ancestral bones: To walk across the cobble fields Of our discarded skulls, Each like a treasure, like a chrysalis, Thinking: whatever left these husks Flew off on bright wings. Ramona Elson

Flower for the Day Black Eyed Susan 8-13-26

> > This time of year the Susans are doing well. They are flourishing everywhere despite the weather and the drought and the deer. The susans are in the aster family in the genus Rudbeckia. But how are the black and the brown eyes distinguished. Interestingly, if they have long petals they are black-eyed, if short and rounded they are brown-eyed. The difference is in the petals, not the color. > Here are some black-eyed susans. > >  > > Absence Inside an Absence > > We live in the world of the voice, > not in the world of the word, > According to John the Solitary— > Our lives are language, our desires are apophatic, > The bush in flame is the bush in flame, > Imageless heart, imageless absence between the hearts. > > And if we cry out, > if once we utter our natural sounds, > Even the angels will hide their heads > Under their blue wings, > its also said. > So better forget that, better to forget the darkness above the tongue, > Its shorting of words, its mad silence and lack of breath. > > Besides, there’s another spin, > The flame and counter flame by which we come to stillness > Playing over our faces, > over the rose cane and the missing rose, > Over the dreary schooners of snow > Pulling their nets in across the yard, > over their waters brought to joy. > > Still, the idea of absence aside an absence > Completing a presence is dynamite, > the showings foretold > > Unseeable through the earthly eye, > We say to ourselves, > The earth in our cracked hands, > the earth dark syllables in our mouths. > > Charles Wright > >