William Wordsworth
(1770-1850)
It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before
The redbreast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.
There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.
My sister! ('tis a wish of mine)
Now that our morning meal is done,
Make haste, your morning task resign;
Come forth and feel the sun.
Edward will come with you;--and, pray,
Put on with speed your woodland dress;
And bring no book: for this one day
We'll give to idleness.
No joyless forms shall regulate
Our living calendar:
We from to-day, my Friend, will date
The opening of the year.
Love, now a universal birth,
From heart to heart is stealing,
From earth to man, from man to earth:
--It is the hour of feeling.
One moment now may give us more
Than years of toiling reason:
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.
Some silent laws our hearts will make,
Which they shall long obey:
We for the year to come may take
Our temper from to-day.
And from the blessed power that rolls
About, below, above,
We'll frame the measure of our souls:
They shall be tuned to love.
Then come, my Sister! come, I pray,
With speed put on your woodland dress;
And bring no book: for this one day
We'll give to idleness.
HEAVENLY SPRING DAYS!
No, I don't feel guilty crowing about how spring has arrived in New Hampshire, knowing that all my Edmonton buddies were suffering at minus forty degrees only last Wednesday morning. Edmontonians, rejoice! Spring is almost at your doorstep! I just about squealed when I went for my Beauty Walk on Saturday (walking in the woods,with my camera, that is, spotting the beauty in nature) and saw GREEN STUFF coming right out of the ground! Saturday and Sunday were the kind of early spring days that one dreams about all winter, with the sun's warmth penetrating through the back of my jacket. I went back on Sunday with a thermos of tea, and sat sipping it on a bench among the pines, overlooking the reservoir, smiling inside and out. A woman about my age had her fingers happily dabbling in the earth of her flower beds, and I stopped to admire her blooming yellow and purple crocuses. And there's a particular spot on the way to my Sunday-morning coffee shop, where I have begun to hear the unmistakable call of a mourning dove.
Everything is more fun in the spring, and knowing that I'll be home in two months.
FRENCH REPUBLICAN CALENDAR--Dandelion
Ah, today is the day of the lowly dandelion--one of my favorite flowers! The dandelion figures prominently in my botany project book for my Waldorf curriculum class. I held my webcam above my drawing of a dandelion seedling to show Ken, and his comment was, "Hey! That's a weed!" A Saskatchewan farm boy, he is not fond of the dandelion.
RUDOLF STEINER'S CALENDAR OF THE SOUL--Joy-of-growth is now calling to our human souls!
Thus to the human ego speaks
In mighty revelation,
Unfolding its inherent powers,
the joy of growth throughout the world:
I carry into you my life
from its enchanted bondage
and so attain my truest goal.
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