Snowy Day; Eat Chocolate
February 16, 2010 § Leave a comment
Charles has gone home, so it’s just me and the cats and the work.
It’s snowing again, and I’m stocking up on crystals for my jewelry business. It’s always tempting to buy too much, especially the colors I haven’t seen yet. “Caribbean Blue Opal,” “Crystal Champagne.” They make me think of fairytale mountains of ice, glittering in eerie pastel. In the story my mother read me so often, the princes have to climb the ice mountain to win the princess, and all but one fall down and die along the way…which I always thought would put a pall on the wedding festivities. Surely those princes had parents, siblings, uncles and aunts? So I learned, to my detriment, to hear ‘death’ and replace it in my mind with ‘went home temporarily despondent.’
My other work today is to write an article on water. Drought, dams, sewage, floods, agricultural run off and 20-minute showers. I read how many gallons the average American uses a day, and calculate how little I could easily survive on. It energizes me with outrage. Charles remarks (by phone) that I should get the building to fix my leaky toilet. I take a break and read about dragons.
For better news, check this out: chocolate may protest against stroke.
http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/179147.php
And remember: curry once a month protects against Alzheimers, walnuts, beets, salmon and molasses are good for depression, blueberries protect against colorectal cancer, and coffee will keep you awake, conversational and occasionally witty.
Mont Blanc (first stanza)
(lines are chopped up and spaced weirdly because of this damn blog format…which I don’t understand.You can read the original here: http://www.readprint.com/work-1366/Mont-Blanc-Percy-Bysshe-Shelley
The everlasting universe of things
Flows through the mind,
and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark – now glittering –
now reflecting gloom –
Now lending splendor,
where from secret springs
The source of human thought
its tribute brings
Of waters, – with a sound but half its own,
Such as a feeble brook
will oft assume
In the wild woods,
amon the mountains lone,
Where waterfalls around it
leap for ever,
Where woods and winds contend,
and a vast river
Over its rocks ceaselessly
bursts and raves.
Mostly in the Afternoon 
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