His Mansion in the Pool The Frog forsakes — He rises on a Log And statements makes — His Auditors two Worlds Deducting me — The Orator of April Is hoarse Today — His Mittens at his Feet No Hand hath he — His eloquence a Bubble As Fame should be — Applaud him to discover To your chagrin Demosthenes has vanished In Waters Green — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1355)
Demosthenes (Δημοσθένης) (384 BC – 322 BC) was a prominent Greek statesman and orator of ancient Athens, generally considered the greatest of the Greek orators. ~ Wikipedia
As we continue to carve out a new life for ourselves in quarantine, we have started referring to “our bubble.” Stay safe, stay home. We are wary of popping our bubble by some careless slip of protocol. We care for our safe zone (our bubble) and speak of it fondly sometimes, as we tend to it like one would a houseplant or a pet.
4.14.20 ~ Elm Grove Cemetery, Mystic, Connecticut
Yesterday we went for an early morning walk at Elm Grove Cemetery in Mystic. It’s a large scenic resting place along the Mystic River, just north of Mystic Seaport. The seaport is closed for the pandemic and many (most?) of its employees have been laid off. We parked at the south end of the graveyard where we could see the dockyard across the water and also explore the fascinating carvings on the gravestones of past sailors.
4.14.20 ~ Mystic Seaport from a distance
4.14.20 ~ sailing poetry on a headstone
4.14.20 ~ Mystic Seaport buildings
We’re going to renew our membership to Mystic Seaport anyway. Even though we have no idea when it will be safe to visit again.
4.14.20 ~ looking across the Mystic River
I’m pretty sure that cliff and house (above) are part of the Peace Sanctuary, where Janet, her mom and I took a lady slippers nature walk back in 2013. See lady slippers.
4.14.20 ~ Draken Harald Hårfagre, still covered for winter
Will the Viking ship have any adventures this year? I have my doubts there will be a Viking Days festival this June…
4.14.20 ~ a soggy stuffed bunny hiding
4.14.20 ~ New London Ledge Lighthouse
4.14.20 ~ one of the cemetery’s peaceful ponds
4.14.20 ~ a lighthouse for a monument
4.14.20 ~ a small decorative well that Tim loved
4.14.20 ~ another peaceful pond
And we finally came around back to our car. Can’t believe it’s six years old! In some places folks aren’t permitted to drive somewhere to take a walk but we are, thankfully. Tim says it isn’t good for cars to sit without running for long periods of time. Our car is an important part of our bubble!
This was our first walk where we did not encounter a single person! Not sure if it was the location or the time of day that did the trick. I suspect there will be more cooler early morning walks as the warmer summer days come along. As long as we can manage to stay safe in our bubble.
We now have 21 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in our town.
Water, is taught by thirst. Land — by the Oceans passed. Transport — by throe — Peace, by its battles told — Love, by memorial mold — Birds, by the snow. ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #93)
The Things that never can come back, are several — Childhood — some forms of Hope — the Dead — Though Joys — like Men — may sometimes make a Journey — And still abide — We do not mourn for Traveler, or Sailor, Their Routes are fair — But think enlarged of all that they will tell us Returning here — “Here”! There are typic “Heres” — Foretold Locations — The Spirit does not stand — Himself — at whatsoever Fathom His Native Land — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1564)
This might be a good time to remember that we should not be asking why “real” food costs so much, but rather, why is processed food so cheap? This reminded me of one of my posts from last year – facts and figures about how we spend money on food that truly startled me when I first learned of them. See: food shopping. Yes, we need to teach our children well!
“Leif Erikson Discovers America” by Christian Krohg
At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be infinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature. We must be refreshed by the sight of inexhaustible vigor, vast and titanic features, the sea-coast with its wrecks, the wilderness with its living and its decaying trees, the thunder-cloud, and the rain which lasts three weeks and produces freshets. We need to witness our own limits transgressed, and some life pasturing freely where we never wander. ~ Henry David Thoreau (Walden)
A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand, The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land With the old murmur, long and musical; The windy waves mount up and curve and fall, And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow – Tho’ I am inland far, I hear and know, For I was born the sea’s eternal thrall. I would that I were there and over me The cold insistence of the tide would roll, Quenching this burning thing men call the soul, – Then with the ebbing I should drift and be Less than the smallest shell along the shoal, Less than the seagulls calling to the sea. ~ Sara Teasdale (Sea Longing)
Like the prodigal son I return to you, the sea. You who scare the idylls off into tame inner fjords, bays and inlets because you are much too majestic for weekend yachtsmen, outboard motors and hobby anglers. Without so much as a blink you swallow the sun like a raw egg-yolk for supper and at daybreak you lift heavy banks of cloud dense with rain and squalls, a wet cloth on sleep-heavy eyes and throbbing temples. With the horizon like a diadem about your brows you write your salt letters to the shore. Land changes, men and beasts come and go. Only you live your solitary life, the world’s blue eyes fixed on the stars and eternity.
