Photo by Bob Gentry ©2001
A Thought for Today
One of the surest signs of growing up is forgetting and forgiving old quarrels.
Long before the trees begin to bud, before the new grass starts to roll with the curvature of the hill and spread out evenly on the common, a certain uneasiness, a kind of insecurity arrives one morning or maybe just at dusk. It presents itself, moves in and settles in. Not unkind, not troublesome, this uncertainly is more an itch - a harbinger that finally scratched enough boils into the apple blossom.
The thrower of the seeds lets go his kernels in mid-March. The early April rain cooperates. Later on the lilac trees are all so heavy that their boughs bend low and nearly break. The prairie dog sits up and calls from mound to mound... a high pitched squeak that all his brothers answer. New pinafores for Sunday school. New patent leather shoes for Easter.
The May pole dance. Lost balloons begin to decorate the inside branches of trees. The song of the Wandering Angus is lived out and sung. The plainest of us begin to feel beautiful again... and the fever deepens.
-from "A Book of Days and A Month of Sundays," 1981
Forty-four years ago I was part of an album named after a poem I wrote called “The Yellow Unicorn,” one of the other selections in the album was entitled “Third Avenue.” It’s a riff I wrote that was never meant to be read, only heard. I keep getting requests from those who ask for it in print and so for better or worse I’m publishing it today.
Don’t forget to drop in tomorrow for Webmaster Ken’s "This One Does It For
Me". Sleep warm.
It's taken some time but
finally we're delighted to announce the posting of a selection of
photographs from both the Thousand Oaks and Aurora concerts. You can
reach them via the link below.