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Rite of Spring

by Vanderleun on March 8, 2019

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Larry Geiger March 9, 2019, 7:52 AM

A bird with whiskers. The cat will be jealous.

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PA Cat March 9, 2019, 8:43 AM

American human rite of spring, 1908 version (back when a gentleman caller was still a beau; the present anthem of the seventh-inning stretch began as a courtship song of sorts):

Katie Casey was baseball mad,
Had the fever and had it bad.
Just to root for the home town crew,
Ev’ry sou [cent]
Katie blew.
On a Saturday her young beau
Called to see if she’d like to go
To see a show, but Miss Kate said “No,
I’ll tell you what you can do”:
Chorus: Take me out to the ball game. . .
Katie Casey saw all the games,
Knew the players by their first names.
Told the umpire he was wrong,
All along,
Good and strong.
When the score was just two to two,
Katie Casey knew what to do,
Just to cheer up the boys she knew,
She made the gang sing this song:
Chorus: Take me out to the ball game. . .

And here is the Haydn Quartet version, which topped the Billboard chart for 16 weeks in 1908:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6g0qS9L-fhY&ab_channel=warholsoup100

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John the River March 10, 2019, 8:34 AM

Woke up on this Daylight Savings Time morning to fresh snow on the ground.
Just enough powder on the porch to see the prints of the birds feet dancing back and forth looking for fallen seeds from the feeder.
My friends, who art in Florida and cursed be thy names, called last night to “warmly” describe the weather there.
Most days I’m good with winter in New England, some days (before the meds kick in) I feel like this…
https://onthenorthriver.com/2015/01/27/this-man-is-stupid/

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Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020

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Van der Leun: The Normblog Bio of Your Host

“From a student radical/hippie/leftist of the Free Speech Movement/Vietnam Day Commitee era and a full-on Democratic Liberal in the decades after, I think I’ve evolved a politics that is neither right nor left but is, in its elemental nature, draconian. In the last 20 years, I’ve taken apart my beliefs with a sledgehammer. Now I’ve got to put the surviving parts back together with tweezers and other ‘shabby equipment, always deteriorating’.”

The Snow Man

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

BY WALLACE STEVENS