My Birthday Is Coming Up, hint, hint

Memorial Day Warm Up

Chicago warms up this weekend! Finally we get to plant our tomatoes, peppers, and eggplant! But of course we get a high of 54 on Thursday! This winter is hanging on like a bad cold.

Don't start your seeds too early!!

Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool, Lincoln Park

Lily Pool
Shooting Star
Columbine

My Niece Abbie!

Fiddleheads

Here are a few shots of the ferns emerging in the backyard.




from Wikipedia -- "Fiddlehead ferns refers to the unfurled fronds of a young fern harvested for food consumption. The fiddlehead, or circinate vernation, unrolls as the fern matures and grows due to more growth in the inside of the curl.

The fiddlehead resembles the curled ornamentation (called a scroll) on the end of a stringed instrument, such as a fiddle. It is also called a crozier, after the curved staff used by shepherds and bishops."

Earth Hour: Turn off your lights 8-9pm Tonight

Just thought I would get a plug in for Earth Hour tonight.

http://www6.earthhourus.org/

The city of Chicago is participating as well as many major cities across the world. So just take one hour and shut off your lights from 8-9pm. Light a candle. Play a guitar. Read a book. Talk to your family! Whatever!

Stuff

Here is some of our stuff. I'm not a big fan of "stuff," but I still want it! I love bringing things back from vacations and sometimes making things. This first picture has a shrine Maggie made on the left, a rock that looks like it has a bear print that I found in Oklahoma, two bear fetishes we bought at Dave's Rock Shop here in Evanston, Some more rocks found in the southwest, two crosses I made, a deer antler I found along the Cimarron, a small southwestern pot, a Frida box, an iron something or other that says "ER" on it, and a small mammal skull that I haven't quite figured out yet.
I found this Audubon print of Canvasbacks at the Junior League here in Evanston.
This fish fossil was given to me by my Father in law. The little Bison was my Grandmother Gresham's.
I wish we could say we found this skull, but we bought it at this huge, amazing shop in Santa Fe called Jackalope.
And this painting I got for my birthday is by my friend Rob Compton.
And my ultimate collection of "stuff" are my Tolkien books. Here are just a few.

Day 20

America Can Change

"The profound mistake of Reverend Wright's sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It's that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country, a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know -- what we have seen is that America can change. That is the true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope " the audacity to hope " for what we can and must achieve tomorrow."

Wilmette Harbor

Spent some time at Wilmette Harbor this morning. It was fun watching the Goldeneyes getting into spring even though it was cold! Saw Redheads, a Ring-necked Duck, Greater and Lesser Scaup, Common, Hooded and Red-breasted Mergansers, one White-winged Scoter, Mallards, Canada Geese, Belted Kingfisher, Red-winged Blackbirds, Song Sparrow, Ring-billed Gulls and I'm sure I'm forgetting something.

Goldeneyes getting into spring
Beautiful male Red-breasted Merganser


White-winged Scoter eating
More Common Goldeneyes

Greater Scaup eating a meal
Here's the Baha'i Temple in Wilmette as seen across the harbor. It truly is beautiful and very accessible, so make sure you stop by if you have a chance.

Not only is the universe stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine.
- Sir Arthur Eddington

Machias Seal Island

Check out these pictures of migrating birds that stop to rest on Machias Seal Island off the Maine coast. Amazing!

Chet Gresham, Pitcher, Brooklyn Yankees

So I decided to officially put my name on this blog. Not sure why I hadn't. Some since of modesty I guess. Not that it matters at all. So anyway, afterward I googled my name to see if this blog came up and I found out that I am a pitcher for the Brooklyn Yankees!! When I clicked on it I figured there was some real baseball player on some Yankees' farm team with my name, but I'm guessing no. I really have no idea what this is, but it doesn't look like I am that good, and I haven't been born yet, but still it's good to be noticed.

Bobby Broom Trio

Maggie and I went to see the Bobby Broom Trio at Pete Miller's last night. I had read about Broom (guitarist) and was looking forward to seeing him. And I wasn't disappointed. He has played with greats like, Miles Davis, Sonny Rollins, Max Roach, Art Blakey and the list goes on and on. I like Jazz a lot, but I'm not a student of it. I wish I could articulate why it was so good, but I can't. It just was! When he wanted to be fast and flawless he was, but when he wanted to give it a little more improvised feel he did that as well. It seemed like he could do anything he wanted. I'm usually more a fan of the brass instruments like sax and trumpet, but guitar has to be right up there. He is also in the Deep Blue Organ Trio which I can't wait to see play. They have a Hammond B3 Organ player and I love that sound.

Day 4

Seedlings Day 3

On Sunday night I planted some cabbage, brussels sprouts and broccoli. I didn't expect to see the seeds sprout so quickly, but today I saw a few little flecks of green!

Art Institute of Chicago

I took my class to the Art Institute today and snapped a few pics.

Once more

I've written about how great the movie Once is and going to see The Swell Season and now they've won the Oscar for best song for Falling Slowly! It was great to see them win!

Poem O' The Day by Mary Ruefle

Kiss of the Sun

If, as they say, poetry is a sign of something
among people, then let this be prearranged now,
between us, while we are still peoples: that
at the end of time, which is also the end of poetry
(and wheat and evil and insects and love),
when the entire human race gathers in the flesh,
reconstituted down to the infant's tiniest fold
and littlest nail, I will be standing at the edge
of that fathomless crown with an orange for you,
reconstituted down to its innermost seed protected
by white thread, in case you are thirsty, which
does not at this time seem like such a wild guess,
and though there will be no poetry between us then,
at the end of time, the geese all gone with the seas,
I hope you will take it, and remember on earth
I did not know how to touch it it was all so raw,
as if by chance there is no edge to the crowd
or anything else so that I am of it,
I will take the orange and toss it as high as I can.

Indecision '08

So, I was torn between Obama and Clinton, and still am, but I voted for Obama on Super Tuesday. I am a sucker for powerful speechifying. When it comes to policies and voting record I feel that they are very close. And how am I supposed to know who can "get things done"? But when Clinton started to bash Obama for his great speeches I wondered what exactly was wrong with being able to inspire? When I hear Obama speak the stark difference between him and our current president amazes me. Yesterday Bush was trying to convince everyone that he didn't want to build military bases in Africa and he sounded, well, like Bush. It seems that leadership is a hard thing to possess and Obama has it. I am usually very cynical when it comes to the choice for president. I think Futurama had it about right in the episode, A Head In The Polls when two clones were vying for the presidency. At least this year, no matter who wins on the democratic side I feel like we will have someone who represents a different viewpoint than the 43 white males that have come before.

Huh?

Reginald Shepherd blogs over at the poetry foundation site. Here is a post of his concerning "post-avant" poetry with the 100+ comments that follow. Now, I admit to being pretty slow on the uptake, but why do poets care so much about what "school" of poetry they are lumped into? I can understand poetry scholars arguing over these things in the future, but if you are writing poetry and you are worried about what that poetry is called then you should take up a new hobby.

Wednesday Night! Lunar Eclipse!

A total eclipse of the Moon will occur in the early evening hours on February 20, 2008. In the Chicago area, the eclipse will begin at 7:43 p.m. (CST) and end at 11:09 p.m.

Clemens On The Hill

Originally found at Ivy Chat. A couple of my favorite things, baseball and A Few Good Men:


Clemens: You want answers?

Congressman: I think I'm entitled to them.

Clemens: You want answers?

Congressman: I want the truth!

Clemens: You can't handle the truth! Son, we live in a world that has baseballs. And those balls have to be hit by men with bats. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Congressman? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for steroids and you curse HGH. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that HGH, while illegal, probably sells tickets. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, sells tickets...You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that mound. You need me on that mound. We use words like fastall, slider, splitfinger...we use these words as the backbone to a life spent playing a sport. You use 'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and falls asleep to the Sportscenter clips I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it! I'd rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a bat and dig in. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to!

Congressman: Did you order the HGH?

Clemens: (quietly) I did the job you sent me to do.

Congressman: Did you order the HGH?

Clemens: YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT I DID!! !

World Without Tears

Dottie in action . . . sorda

Dottie in the sun

Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver is coming to Chicago April 2nd! Her New and Selected book was the first book of poetry I ever bought. Her "tour" is selling out wherever she goes. In Seattle tickets for her reading went for 100 bucks on Craigslist. Her book American Primitive is still one of my favorite books of all time. I love the last stepped-stanza of this poem.(edit..I can't seem to get the formatting right on this poem. Each four lines are supposed to be "stepped" which I think helps pace the poem quite well. With the correct formatting you can feel the struggle and journey.)

Egrets

Where the path closed
down and over,
through the scumbled leaves, fallen branches,
through the knotted catbrier,
I kept going. Finally
I could not
save my arms
from thorns; soon
the mosquitoes
smelled me, hot
and wounded, and came
wheeling and whining.
And that's how I came
to the edge of the pond:
black and empty
except for a spindle
of bleached reeds
at the far shore
which, as I looked,
wrinkled suddenly
into three egrets --
a shower
of white fire!
Even half-asleep they had
such faith in the world
that had made them - - -
tilting through the water,
unruffled, sure,
by the laws
of their faith not logic,
they opened their wings
softly and stepped
over every dark thing.

Angels by B. H. Fairchild

Angels

Elliot Ray Neiderland, home from college
one winter, hauling a load of Herefords
from Hogtown to Guymon with a pint of
Ezra Brooks and a copy of Rilke’s Duineser
Elegien on the seat beside him, saw the ass-end
of his semi gliding around in the side mirror
as he hit ice and knew he would never live
to see graduation or the castle at Duino.

In the hospital, head wrapped like a gift
(the nurses had stuck a bow on top), he said
four flaming angels crouched on the hood, wings
spread so wide he couldn’t see, and then
the world collapsed. We smiled and passed a flask
around. Little Bill and I sang Your Cheatin’
Heart and laughed, and then a sudden quiet
put a hard edge on the morning and we left.

Siehe, ich lebe, Look, I’m alive, he said,
leaping down the hospital steps. The nurses
waved, white dresses puffed out like pigeons
in the morning breeze. We roared off in my Dodge,
Behold, I come like a thief! he shouted to the town
and gave his life to poetry. He lives, now,
in the south of France. His poems arrive
by mail, and we read them and do not understand.

The Eclectic Company

Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy will be host DJ on XRT's The Eclectic Company this Tuesday. I look forward to hearing his playlist. I'm a big fan of their music and Tweedy's voice.

James Wright

I think this poem is where all my poems come from; sad imitation after sad imitation!


A Blessing

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

Snow

It snowed about 8 inches here.

Poem O' the Day

Man of War by Carol Frost


After there were no women, men, and children,

from the somber deeps horseshoe crabs crawled up on somber shores:

Man-of-Wars' blue sails drifted downwind

and blue filaments of some biblical cloak

floated below: the stinging filaments.

The cored of bone and rock-headed came near:

clouds made wandering shadows:

sea and grasses mingled::

There was no hell after all

but a lull before it began over::

flesh lying alone: then mating: a little spray of soul:

and the grace of waves, of stars, and remotest isles.

This Is Great!

Mitt Romney Defends Himself Against Allegations Of Tolerance

Mitt Romney Defends Himself Against Allegations Of Tolerance