Hard Copy: All the way

A Book

There is no frigate like a book

To take us lands away,

Nor any coursers like a page

Of prancing poetry.

This traverse may the poorest take

Without oppress of toll;

How frugal is the chariot

That bears a human soul!

 ***

Here's to hard copy.  People look at me askance in the office when I suggest printing a publication.  It's all pdf and html to them.  I have a Kindle but it's not the same as a book; a real new book smelling of ink and clean paper.   Untouched.  I don't much go for second hand books except when they are library books and even then I leap for joy when I score a new book acquisition and discover I am the first borrower.   I hope no more bookstores go out of business.  How ever will we browse the new book selection?  We are writing to Queen Elizabeth on the occasion of her Diamond Jubilee.  You can do so by email (as we've done) but it's not the same as writing a real letter either.  Receiving an honest to goodness letter by reply in the mail from the Lady-in-Waiting at Balmoral Castle is such a thrill, I can tell you.  No email pdf can match it.

Poem by Emily Dickinson

Still here

...but without camera. 

Crazy days here.  Looking at high schools for 2013.  Not impressed with the public schools on offer and not totally satisfied with local private school.  Talk about chalk and cheese.   Everything from cost to curriculum and communication with parents is diametrically opposite and none have the perfect fit. 

We're also adjusting to changes on the work front which have a flow-on effect on the whole family.  Difficult times.  Decisions to be made.

Saturdays are now entirely consumed by soccer games which squeezes an already tight timetable.  It's tiring, but I must confess to finding it fun to watch 7,9 and 11 year olds play their matches and observe the different skill levels emerge.

So, all up, I'm savouring the family vibe but with an undercurrent of stress this week. 

A Series of Squares

~ Raymond Foss

The work, the lawn
carved up into a series of squares
crisp edges, overlapping rows
breaking all up
a section at a time.

Like parts of a maze,
a prayer labyrinth
in the segments, the squares
the rectangles and the edges,
all woven, walked

A series of squares,
around the trees, the pines
at the edge of the hill,
between the beds
the soccer field

A pattern of pieces
together a whole
watching the skies
for the clouds above
rounding each corner
to finish the whole

***

It was the first full day of soccer  matches yesterday.  From 9.00 pm to 3.00 pm in three different venues. That's an entire school day spent on the road.  Admittedly, thanks to being a two-car family, I managed to squeeze a grocery shop and few loads of washing back home into the schedule - blissfully aware, I might add, that this was a privileged option.

I still find it unusual to see girls play soccer, especially novice seven-year-olds with legs like fawns and sweet ponytails swinging as they chase the ball.  It's a great atmosphere pitch-side with attentive parents shouting encouragement.   However, I still jump when a mother bellows from the top of her lungs when standing right next to me ... some can even manage it mid-conversation.  It's all a bit rowdy; just not cricket, when a gentle clap is acceptable.  I doubt I'll get used to this.

It's May

Peace, quiet and rest is her message,

Tired scenery heeds her call;

This gracious lady of Autumn,

Loveliest season of all.

Pamela Summers

Still no sign of my camera.  It's with a spiral notepad somewhere. Meantime, I've borrowed a DLSR monolith from the office to play with and have no idea what ISO or half the other functions mean.  Also can't seem to download them to the computer.  I'm thinking a replacement Mother's Day camera might be called for. Is that excessive?  It's either that or a non-stick fry pan and I know which I'd prefer.  (However, I have had a sneak peak of some "vouchers" from the children for hugs, back tickles and promises to do odd jobs 'round the house.  What more really could a mother ask for?)    

Photo: Australian Institute of Sport, Canberra.  "Swimming Islands" and "Waiting Poolside".  By me on iphone with Instagram.