By Robert Penn Warren
I shall build me a house where the larkspur blooms
In a narrow glade in an alder wood,
Where the sunset shadows make violet glooms,
And a whip-poor-will calls in eerie mood.
I shall lie on a bed of river sedge,
And listen to the glassy dark,
With a guttered light on my window ledge,
While an owl stares in at me white and stark.
I shall burn my house with the rising dawn,
And leave but the ashes and smoke behind,
And again give the glade to the owl and the fawn,
When the grey wood smoke drifts away with the wind.
My Tuesday was not as eventful as my Monday -- no illusionists, no hatching chicks, no evading church members handing out pamphlets about how I'm going to Hell (like that's news to anyone who knows me). Instead I had work and laundry and a stop at the food store before taking Adam to an overnight movie marathon of the sort he and his friends have whenever they're all home.
We did not have a movie marathon but we did watch Wonder Boys after dinner (yes, of course because of RDJ and Tobey Maguire, see going to Hell above). Not remotely my favorite Chabon story, though I've always thought Chabon pretty much sucks when it comes to female characters, anyway. Here are some of the animals from the county fair yesterday, including a rescued owl and bees: