This Date in Art History: Born 24 February 1836 – Winslow Homer, an American painter and illustrator: Part I of III.
Below – “An Afterglow”; “Adirondack Lake”; “Apple Picking”; “The Artist’s Studio in an Afternoon Fog”; “At the Window”; “The Blue Boat”; “Boys in a Pasture.”
Musings in Winter: Paulo Coelho
“If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine; it is lethal.”
Below – “Early Evening”; “The Fog Warning”; “The Four-Leaf Clover”; “Girl in a Hammock”; “The Green Hill”; “The Initials”; “Girl in the Orchard.”
This Date in Literary History: Born 24 February 2924 – Harry Weldon Kees, an American poet, painter, literary critic, novelist, playwright, photographer, jazz pianist, short story writer, and filmmaker.
by Weldon Kees
The porchlight coming on again,
Early November, the dead leaves
Raked in piles, the wicker swing
Creaking. Across the lots
A phonograph is playing Ja-Da.
An orange moon. I see the lives
Of neighbors, mapped and marred
Like all the wars ahead, and R.
Insane, B. with his throat cut,
Fifteen years from now, in Omaha.
I did not know them then.
My airedale scratches at the door.
And I am back from seeing Milton Sills
And Doris Kenyon. Twelve years old.
The porchlight coming on again.
Below – Weldon Kees: “Abstraction”
This Date in Art History: Born 24 February 1836 – Winslow Homer, an American painter and illustrator: Part III of III.
Below – “Moonlight”; “An Open Window”; “The Gulf Stream”; “Snap the Whip”; “Sunlight and Shadow”; “Young Woman with a Parasol”; “Morning Glories.”
This Date in Literary History: Born 24 February 1837 – Rosalia de Castro, a Galician poet and writer.
“The Atmosphere is Incandescent”
by Rosalia de Castro
The atmosphere is incandescent;
The fox explores an empty road;
Sick grow the waters
That sparkled in the clear arroyo,
Unfluttered stands the pine
Waiting for fickle winds to blow.
A majesty of silence
Overpowers the meadow;
Only the hum of an insect troubles
The spreading, dripping forest shadow,
Relentless and monotonous
As muffled rattle in a dying throat.
In such a summer the hour of midday
Could as well go
By the name of night, to struggle-weary
Man who has never known
Greater vexation from the vast cares
Of the soul, or from matter’s majestic force.
Would it were winter again! The nights! The cold!
O those old loves of ours so long ago!
Come back to make this fevered blood run fresh,
Bring back your sharp severities and snows
To these intolerable summer sorrows…
Sorrows!…While vine and corn stand thick and gold!
The cold, the heat; the autumn or the spring;
Where, where has delight set up its home?
Beautiful are all seasons to the man
Who shelters happiness within his soul;
But the deserted, orphaned spirit feels
No season smile upon its luckless door.
Below – “Springtime in Washington”; “Starry Night and the Astronauts”; “Red Abstraction”; “Iris, Tulips, Jonquils, and Crocuses”; “Autumn Leaves Fluttering in the Breeze”; “Elysian Fields.”
A Poem for Today
“Dog and Snow”
by Paul S. Piper
Dog sees white. Arctic
light, the bright buzz in the brain
of pure crystal adrenaline. In a flash
he is out the door and across the street
looking for snowshoe hares, caribou, cats.
His wild ancestry ignited, Dog plunges
his nose into snow up to his eyes. He sees
his dreams. Master yells from the front porch
but Dog can’t hear him. Dog hears nothing
except the roar of the wind across the tundra, the ancient
existential cry of wolves, pure, devastating, hungry.
Time for crunchies. Taking many detours, Dog
returns to the porch. Let master think what he
wants. Freedom comes at a price.