But while watching a comedian on Netflix this evening I heard him recite the following poem:
I dwell in Possibility
I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –
Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky –
Of Visitors – the fairest –
For Occupation – This –
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise –
The show is entitled "The Bill Murray Stories" and I recommend it. I'll try avoid spoilers, but it is more about philosophy, living and being than comedy. He read that poem to some workers who were working on a poetry place - I have no idea what that place is, but it was being built and Bill showed up and read that poem to them while they were on break. Mr. Murray leads an interesting life. He took the lessons he learned studying improv and applied them to his life. That made me reflect that perhaps that's what life is - we are all doing improv, some days we hit our marks and carry it off, some days we miss our mark and are carried off, but the show does go on.
We have had some very pleasant weather but since winter will be back soon I have been being productive while I can. First up, a walnut bowl:
The wood for that one came from a tree that blew over here in town due to a microburst in the year 2000. I sawed the tree up and that wood has been drying ever since. Now is the time to make something out of it. That is thing one.
Next, a bowl I turned out of a piece of SpectraPly I was given recently. I hear it is very colorful:
Here is what the chip pile looked like:
It got so cold today I burned all that, plus a bunch of other scrap. It was briefly tolerable out in the yard.
Yesterday afternoon I set about finishing this bowl:
I rough turned it nearly 2 years ago to the day. The wood is red maple with some ambrosia going on. It is a live edge bowl, that is, the bark is still on it. Stop by sometime and I will explain how that is done.
That tree, and another similar one were given to me by a nice woman who lives over in the big city. I gave her two bowls from those trees - she will keep one and leave the other with the house when she sells it. She lives in a house that was part of a historic homestead (read plantation) with a name you would recognize from the news. Anyway, she is a lovely woman who was lookin' out for ol' 60.
Here is the sunrise the other day:
I almost missed it - the sun is rising earlier every day and I was tired, wanted to sleep in, but peeked out the window and then hustled out to snap that picture. No telling what it looked like a bit earlier, but I will say this - in another minute or two it was gone. The sun had moved and the light had gone off that lower cloud. Sometimes they stick around, other days, bam, you snooze you lose.
