Sunny Days

Saturday, April 07, 2007

It was a Beautiful day today. Lots of sun. Downtown they reached 75 degrees. We are up for renewal on our cell plan so we got the kids dressed and drove into town to see what we could get.
First stop was Best Buy. There we discovered that the third party retailers no longer give out the free phones for the new every two program. You have to go through verizon directly. So we went down the road to a Verizon store and waited forever to be helped. After looking at the phones and prices we finally just left because the phones are much cheaper on the verizon site, and they ship free anyway. 2-5 days until they get here. My phone is considered the main line so that's the one that gets the discount towards a cool phone. The secondary line gets whatever is free, or you can get a reduced price towards the other phones. So when we found that out Chad was a little upset b/c he had a certain phone in mind. I told him we'd switch lines. He could get the phone he wanted and use my number instead. So he got a Motorola Krzr or however it's spelled. That's the phone I originally wanted, b/c it comes in this hot red color. But either way, if I wanted to get it I would have had to pay a hundred bucks. Don't have that much for a phone. I ended up picking the Razr, in pink. It was only 50, and that's what I planned on using at the most if we had to anyway. I'm just glad we'll have new phones. So it was a waste of a day pretty much. The kids' schedules were all messed up too.

But even so it was nice to get outside. On the way up our driveway I spotted a lonely little daffodil. I loooove them. Probably my third favorite flower after Lily of the Valley, and Gladiolus. So pretty, they always remind me of that poem by William Wordsworth.

"Daffodils" (1804)

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.


This is a pic that I took from the driveway. That's Mt. Spokane in the distance. The snow is pretty much gone now. I don't think there will be any more boarding in my future this season. It's good to have some nice weather. I really need to move somewhere, where winter doesn't exist. I might miss the snow, but I love the warmer months more. Somewhere warm, where mountains are nearby for snowboarding. Well moving isn't in my immediate future, so I should just enjoy what I've got right?

This post is turning out longer than I thought. On the knitting front, I'm 3/4 of the way done with my CAL top. I'm working on my secret pal's knitted object. Still waiting on some things I ordered for her to get here. I think I'm going to put together one main box, and then a smaller one later on. I joined the Isabella knit-along. Altho I haven't started, I have been planning to. I'm just finishing up those tops I keep putting off. They are driving me nuts. In fact that's what I should be doing now...

3 comments:

Brandy said...

I love the picture of the Daffodil and the picture of Mt. Spokane is gorgeous!

I hate going new phone shopping but we are headed to do that this next week. Ugh!

Have a Wonderful Easter!

Sheila said...

Hi Hattie, came across your site via Get Stitchy... Thanks for posting on my Finale Top. Love the pic of the Daffodil... with the cold weather here my daffodils are slumped over... I am so loving the designs from Fitted Knits. I’m not a knitter but love to check out the designs for inspiration. I love Cosmos… the flowers are very pretty, the mature height is up to 28”.. Did you get the chocolate cosmos… they actually have a chocolate smell... either way... you will enjoy the cosmos flowers.

emily brutalitë said...

My personal favorite Daffodil poem by Ted Hughes. It is in the collection of poems called "The Birthday Letters" about his wife Sylvia Plath:

Daffodils

Remember how we picked the daffodils?
Nobody else remembers, but I remember.
Your daughter came with her armfuls, eager and happy,
Helping the harvest. She has forgotten.
She cannot even remember you. And we sold them.
It sounds like sacrilege, but we sold them.
Were we so poor? Old Stoneman, the grocer,
Boss-eyed, his blood-pressure purpling to beetroot
(It was his last chance,
He would die in the same great freeze as you) ,
He persuaded us. Every Spring
He always bought them, sevenpence a dozen,
'A custom of the house'.

Besides, we still weren't sure we wanted to own
Anything. Mainly we were hungry
To convert everything to profit.
Still nomads-still strangers
To our whole possession. The daffodils
Were incidental gilding of the deeds,
Treasure trove. They simply came,
And they kept on coming.
As if not from the sod but falling from heaven.
Our lives were still a raid on our own good luck.
We knew we'd live forever. We had not learned
What a fleeting glance of the everlasting
Daffodils are. Never identified
The nuptial flight of the rarest epherma-
Our own days!
We thought they were a windfall.
Never guessed they were a last blessing.
So we sold them. We worked at selling them
As if employed on somebody else's
Flower-farm. You bent at it
In the rain of that April-your last April.
We bent there together, among the soft shrieks
Of their jostled stems, the wet shocks shaken
Of their girlish dance-frocks-
Fresh-opened dragonflies, wet and flimsy,
Opened too early.

We piled their frailty lights on a carpenter's bench,
Distributed leaves among the dozens-
Buckling blade-leaves, limber, groping for air, zinc-silvered-
Propped their raw butts in bucket water,
Their oval, meaty butts,
And sold them, sevenpence a bunch-

Wind-wounds, spasms from the dark earth,
With their odourless metals,
A flamy purification of the deep grave's stony cold
As if ice had a breath-

We sold them, to wither.
The crop thickened faster than we could thin it.
Finally, we were overwhelmed
And we lost our wedding-present scissors.

Every March since they have lifted again
Out of the same bulbs, the same
Baby-cries from the thaw,
Ballerinas too early for music, shiverers
In the draughty wings of the year.
On that same groundswell of memory, fluttering
They return to forget you stooping there
Behind the rainy curtains of a dark April,
Snipping their stems.

But somewhere your scissors remember. Wherever they are.
Here somewhere, blades wide open,
April by April
Sinking deeper
Through the sod-an anchor, a cross of rust.

 
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