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The Weary Blues
~ Langston Hughes

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway . . .
He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan--
"Ain't got nobody in all this world,
Ain't got nobody but ma self.
I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
And put ma troubles on the shelf."

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more--
"I got the Weary Blues
And I can't be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can't be satisfied--
I ain't happy no mo'
And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.

Early In The Morning I Hear On Your Piano
by Robert Louis Stevenson

EARLY in the morning I hear on your piano
You (at least, I guess it's you) proceed to learn to play.
Mostly little minds should take and tackle their piano
While the birds are singing in the morning of the day.

The Piano Man

PIANO TUNER, UNTUNE ME THAT TUNE

 ~ Ogden Nash

I regret that before people can be reformed they have to be sinners,
And that before you have pianists in the family you have to have
beginners.
When it comes to beginners' music
I am not enthusiastic.
When listening to something called "An Evening in My Doll House," or "Buzz,
Buzz, Said the Bee to the Clover,"
Why I'd like just once to hear it played all the way through, instead of that
hard part near the end over and over.
Have you noticed about little fingers?
When they hit a sour note, they lingers.
And another thing about little fingers, they are always strawberry-jammed or cranberry-jellied-y,
And "Chopsticks" is their favorite melody,
And if there is one man who I hope his dentist was a sadist and all his teeth
were brittle ones,
It is he who invented "Chopsticks" for the little ones.
My good wishes are less than frugal
For him who started the little ones going boggie-woogal,
But for him who started the little ones picking out "Chopsticks" on the ivories,
Well I wish him a thousand harems of a thousand wives apiece, and a
thousand little ones by each wife, and each little one playing "Chopsticks" twenty-four hours a day in all the nurseries of all his harems, or wiveries.

***

This was Little Wanna's end of year piano concert held in her classroom.  She played "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen" (which I always call "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Been") and Jingle Bells.  Months of lessons and practice, and all over in the twinkling of an eye.  So entranced was I by Ro-Ro's rendition of "Cockles and Mussels" that I completely forgot to take a photo.  It was a proud mamma moment.  Good effort kiddos and hearty thanks to the Piano Man for this adept tutoring under sometimes trying circumstances.  We ARE getting better at practice ... truly.

I love that our school offer music lessons during After School Care and enlists young musicians from the ANU School of Music to be the teachers.  It's a convenient and affordable option for working parents and a nice little earner and good experience for the teachers.  We've had doctorate students of the flute and ambitious young people whose aim is to make a living as professional musicians.  It will be as thrilling to watch their career trajectories as our own children's progress with their instruments. 

Christmas Memory

Candlelit Heart

~ Mary E. Linton

Somewhere across the winter world tonight
You will be hearing chimes that fill the air;
Christmas extends its all-enfolding light
Across the distance...something we can share.

You will be singing, just the same as I,
These familiar songs we know so well,
And you will see these same stars in your sky
And wish upon that brightest one that fell.

I shall remember you and trim my tree,
One shining star upon the topmost bough;
I will hang wreaths of faith that all may see --
Tonight I glimpse beyond the hear and now.

And all the time that we must be apart
I keep a candle in my heart.

***

Remembering my Mum and Dad at this time of year.  The children are thinking of Grandma too.  When I was a child we would have cut down our casaurina tree Christmas tree by now and ordered the ham for boiling in the copper tub down the back yard.  The dining room would be festooned with paper decorations and Chinese lanterns with thin tassles.  The wreath would be on the front door and Aunty Val in England's goblet candles would adorn the coffee table.   Mum would have made the Christmas cake and stirred in the threepences.  Whole watermelons and trays of mangoes would be chilling in the downstairs fridge.  Good memories.

Stories by the Christmas Tree

Christmas Cheer

~ Thomas Tusser

Good husband and housewife, now chiefly be glad,
Things handsome to have, as they ought to be had.
They both do provide, against Christmas do come,
To welcome their neighbors, good cheer to have some.

Good bread and good drink, a good fire in the hall,
Brawn, pudding, and souse, and good mustard withal.
Beef, mutton, and pork, and good pies of the best,
Pig, veal, goose, and capon, and turkey well drest,
Cheese, apples and nuts, and good carols to hear,
As then in the country is counted good cheer.

What cost to good husband, is any of this?
Good household provision only it is:
Of other the like, I do leave out a many,
That costeth the husband never a penny.

***

Haven't organised a thing for the holidays.  School ends next week and I'll have to arrange leave or book holiday programs by the end of next week.  While I'm faltering on the large-scale plans, we do have the gorgeous (real) Christmas tree half-decorated and have been playing carols and reading Christmas stories.  Our favourite is "Harvey Slumfenburger's Christmas Present" by John Burningham (2004).  We have a modest collection of seasonal stories that we drag down from the book shelf each year.  This one is a lovely tale, a real keeper, and the illustrations are charming; a point of conversation in themselves.   What DID Santa leave Harvey?   That rectangular box is the right shape, but too fat, for an iPad2 we decided.

It's Christmas Eve and there is one present left in Father Christmas's sack. It's for a small boy called Harvey Slumfenburger, who lives far, far away on top of the Roly Poly Mountain. But no journey is too far for Father Christmas!

Goggle-eyed, boggle-eyed

There was a Young Lady whose eyes,
Were unique as to colour and size;
When she opened them wide,
People all turned aside,
And started away in surprise.

~ Edward Lear

***

Poor old Little Wanna.  She wants a Christmas tree badly and right now.  She'll have to wait until the weekend when I hope we can make it to Santa's Christmas Tree Farm out yonder near Sutton or Gundaroo to pick our own live beauty.  Meantime, I bought a white, artificial tree with flashing lights for a table top.  I love a seasonal light show indoors. Turning it on in the morning and when we get home in the evenings.  But nothing beats the real Tree.   The rest of Christmas, notably the shopping and the catering, is nothing short of torture for me.   With overbearing work commitments for the SSO, it looks like it will be a quiet summer this year with no road trip.  Everyone is looking forward to staying put.  We need a rest, but I suspect some shorter trips to the beach and Sydney (for the Harry Potter exhibition or bust!) will be in order.  We have nothing planned or booked of course and the holidays are just around the corner!  Maximum disorganisation.

 Felt ornament on Etsy (Yellow Bug Boutique)