charm of finches, peep of chickens

Go here, and then go here, and then go here, and if your mouth isn’t watering from all those delicious words by that time, then you probably think I’m a real oddball.  If you are salivating, and if you spend the next hour reading about shrewdnesses of apes, and murmurations of starlings, and rabbles of butterflies, and coffles of asses, then we are probably good friends.

And the title of this post makes me think of an old favorite, by a poet I’m just starting to fall in love with:

Counting-Out Rhyme

Silver bark of beech, and sallow
Bark of yellow birch and yellow
Twig of willow.

Stripe of green in moosewood maple,
Colour seen in leaf of apple,
Bark of popple.

Wood of popple pale as moonbeam,
Wood of oak for yoke and barn-beam,
Wood of hornbeam.

Silver bark of beech, and hollow
Stem of elder, tall and yellow
Twig of willow.

–Edna St. Vincent Millay

Tom Benjamin wrote a beautiful choral arrangement of this poem…wish I could find an audio link online… Anyone (Shnaomi!  Shmarolyn!) have it on an old Peabody Children’s Chorus CD?  Brings back memories.

There is actually an autumn chill in the air here today.

Just finished A Dark Horn Blowing by Dahlov Ipcar, and want to read a The Queen of Spells next…it’s a re-telling of Tam Lin.  Am in the mood for nostalgic and beautiful and haunting things.  (Don’t even remember the last time I finished a book I started, before I moved here.  Something to add to my List Of Things Solitude In Small Towns Is Good For.)

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