poem for a sunday morning and tree mulching day

 

[the faint shadow of the morning moon?]

 

the faint shadow of the morning moon?

nay, the snow falling on the earth.

the mist of blossoming flowers?

nay, poetry smiling up the sky.

 

by yone noguchi (1875 - 1947)

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greg and i squished the tree into the car this morning to take it to washington square park for mulching: nyc mulch fest. today was the last day for drop off and for seeing it get mulched.

a typical grey winter day in the village.

i'm not the only crazy person who has to take pics and film. the workers are always so nice, and waved to us after our shout out of thanks. it's been a few years since we've been able to watch it go through the mulcher . . in past years the workers just weren't about at 10 in the morning. maybe 11 am is a better time.

the starlings were swooping about . .

time to head home and clean up the pine needles. chanda offered to sweep the stairwell this year, which was a big help. 

of course there was still a lot of vacuuming to be done . . greg and i had just changed the bag in the vacuum cleaner two days ago, but it needed to be changed again. this tree lost a lot of needles.

cherry panettone on a cherry plate with bellocq christmas tea. greg is reading little dorrit and enjoying it. i read it a few years ago. we've both had fun picking out the sites in london that are in the book, such as the marshalsea prison and the church of st. george the martyr. i'm actually not in the middle of any novel at the moment, which is unusual for me at christmastime (when i normally pull out one of my louisa may alcott books).

lunch and then he'll walk to finally return the rejected sparkle lights at home depot, while i go help kendall for a little bit.