
I nearly forgot to mention - the meal came with pie. Keisha and I both chose what we thought was the most divine looking slice of peach. The peaches looked SO ripe and the filling was thick and abundant. Only problem was - it wasn't peach. It was apricot. With pineapple tidbits mixed in, for good measure. It was basically fruit cocktail pie. Ever heard of it? Want the recipe? Me either. But in truth, it wasn't half bad. My dad would have been in heaven.
Following our life-on-the-edge supper, we came back home, put the kids to bed and sat down for a quiet poetry reading.
You think I'm joking, but I am not.
I had recently discovered an old book at an estate sale entitled, "Farm Ballads" (Will Carleton - 1873). Hello. I had no choice. It has turned out to be the most charming little book. I'm not all the way through it, as I like to save the poems for rainy days.
I'll leave you with a few lines from one of my early faves:
"Draw up the papers, lawyer, and make 'em good and stout;
Things at home are crossways, and Betsey and I are out.
We, who have worked together so long as man and wife,
Must pull in single harness the rest of our nat'ral life...."
"...And the next that I remember was when we lost a cow;
She had kicked the bucket for certain, the question was only - How?
I held my opinion, and Betsey another had;
And when we were done a-talkin', we both of us was mad..."
"...And one thing put in the paper, that first to me didn't occur:
That when I am dead at last she bring me back to her;
And lay me under the maples I planted years ago,
When she and I was happy; before we quarreled so.
And when she dies I wish that she would be laid by me;
And, lyin' together in silence, perhaps we might agree;
And if ever we meet in heaven, I wouldn't think it queer
If we loved each other the better for what we quarrelled here."
Sigh. Smile.
And best of all, the very next poem is called "How Betsey and I Made Up."