Because The World Is Wide

I grew up nomadic, and autumn never fails to bring out the wayfarer in me. I've quoted this poem before, but it's even more poignant now that years have passed. Of its several quatrains these are the ones that resonate:

"There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir; 
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name." --Bliss Carman, A Vagabond Song (https://www.bartleby.com/104/24.html)

For a long time I've wanted a gypsy wagon (in Romani a vardo) to transform into a writing retreat. I found the dream version, pictured below, on Pinterest. The red hat on the left above the tea table brings to memory last week's visit with a dear friend who wore a similar chapeau as we sat under the deck umbrella on a perfect cloudless Thursday afternoon, sipping Aperol Spritzes, nibbling snacks, exchanging long-delayed birthday presents (we're both Virgos, the same age, and love odd pretty things) and reminiscing about our decades-long, always-joyous association. I can imagine us taking tea in that picture, with perhaps a dainty crystal glass of Chambord or St. Germain on the side. Wishing everyone the joy of knowing someone for many years, always surprised by new shimmering facets.

Princeps Militiae Caelestis

Prince of the heavenly host

Today is Michaelmas, commemorating my favorite angel. I used to often stop to admire him during my long-ago visits to Trieste, where his magnificent mosaic image adorns the facade of the Serbian Orthodox church. The feast of Saint Michael marks a time of transitions, summer into fall into winter, reflections on the past and musings on the future. I hope to do more with my life now that time is growing short, and look forward to resuming travels abroad since I got my Covid booster shot today. Trieste will probably always remain a memory, but there are so many places I've yet to explore, so much I want to read, and write. Be well, friends.

Respice Finem, or A Little Mirth

(Information about my other writing can be found here.)

No, I'm not being morbid, but these are difficult times. For now, I'm lucky to be in a safe place and enjoying the blessings of health and it's April Fools' Day, so I ask my friends here to read these words of Lord Dunsany and think kindly of this writer if they would, which I will sincerely reciprocate.

"I will send jests into the world and a little mirth. And while Death seems to thee as far away as the purple rim of hills; or sorrow as far off as rain in the blue days of summer, then pray to Limpang-Tung. But when thou growest old, or ere thou diest, pray not to Limpang-Tung, for thou becomest part of a scheme that he doth not understand.

"Go out into the starry night, and Limpang-Tung will dance with thee who danced since the gods were young, the god of mirth and of melodious minstrels. Or offer up a jest to Limpang-Tung; only pray not in thy sorrow to Limpang-Tung, for he saith of sorrow: 'It may be very clever of the gods, but he doth not understand.'"

Be safe, dear ones.
With thanks,
Namaste
CK

Photo taken by me while visiting one of the infinite churches of Rome, a few years ago.