Poem of the Week–John Donne

During the time when Jacob and I are apart, this poem has been a solace for us. I love the extended metaphor of a compass with its linked arms and ever-reaching circle of eternity.

The picture above was taken by our wonderful photographer (who is also one of my English professors). This symbol of Jacob and my love along with some of our favorite lines from this amazing work just melts me every time. I love that picture.

A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.
by John Donne AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
“Now his breath goes,” and some say, “No.”So let us melt, and make no noise,                                       5
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
‘Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th’ earth brings harms and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;                              10
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers’ love
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, ’cause it doth remove                                     15
The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.                           20

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so                                          25
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix’d foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th’ other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,                                30
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th’ other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,                                    35
And makes me end where I begun.

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Corsage DIY–A Bridal Post

Well, folks. Two more weeks until I’m married! This being the case, my sweet mother and I set our minds to the task of making floral decorations for the personages of the honored guests aka corsages/boutonnieres. It was quite the adventure and involved the watching of many Afloral.com videos.  I’ll give you a step by step of the process here.
Step 1. Chose two or three (depending on the desired size) sprays of your favorite silk flower. One of them should have a rather long stem and the others a short stem, but still enough to attach them.

Step 2. Take some floral tape and attach the smaller stems to the long stem by winding enough tape to keep them steady. Tip: be sure to test the corsage by moving it around a bit so that you won’t be surprised by crying guests that lost their corsages. Ok, maybe that’s a little overboard. 🙂

Step 3. Wrap the stem with floral tape in order to cover the exposed plastic and make the pinning a little easier on your big day.

Step 4. If desired, add a bow to the corsage. This can be a fun way to tie in your accent color.  Tip: Boutonnieres don’t normally have ribbons. The bow above was beautifully done by my mother. Kudos to her!

Enjoy!

-A happy bride

Posted in DIY

Garden update–The peas are sprouting!

Well, I went to check on my little garden last night and I found, to my surprise, that the peas were sprouting! I didn’t count on them coming up that fast! I hope they don’t get too big for me to leave them in the pot until I come back from my honeymoon!

Hope this brightens your day a little!

-CB

Poem of the Week

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

-Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson is my third favorite poet. She falls in line after Keats and Donne. Because she never named her poems, but numbered them, most of her poetry is called by the first line. What I love about this poem is the imagery given of the bird. Something so small and fragile can sustain us throughout the “gale” and “storm.” There is no need to feed Hope for it is intrinsic in human nature. Enjoy!

-CB

The beginning of this year’s garden!

Well, spring is almost here! And, in the midst of school work, wedding planning, and work, my future husband and I found time to plant our summer garden.

Seed packets!

We started with the basics and plan to add on when we get back from our honeymoon.

It’s kind of interesting planting a garden in the middle of your college life, but I’ll try to get over the strange looks people gave me. Some people just don’t understand green thumbs. 🙂 When I get the itch to plant, I’m planting no matter what people think!

Ahh, the feeling of dirt on the hands. I love it.

My handsome helper. I’m pretty partial. Also, I’m going to be his wife in 20 days! Gardening is such a bonding experience for us.

Oh, and we’re hoping to be able to learn to can our veggies this year. I’m kind of nervous! Any advice can be left in the comment section. 🙂

Jacob drew me a nifty little chart so I can remember where I planted what in my Jiffy Garden Starter this year. Last year I kept forgetting which plant was which until they started growing leaves. This should help a lot.

Happy gardening, everyone! I’m so glad to have this beautiful weather and the ability to plant seeds for our veggie garden.

Inspiration by Keats

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.