Mary C. M. Phillips

Once in a golden hour

I cast to earth a seed.
Up there came a flower,
The people said, a weed.

To and fro they went
Thro’ my garden-bower,
And muttering discontent
Cursed me and my flower.

Then it grew so tall
It wore a crown of light,
But thieves from o’er the wall
Stole the seed by night.

Sow’d it far and wide
By every town and tower,
Till all the people cried
`Splendid is the flower.’

Read my little fable:
He that runs may read.
Most can raise the flowers now,
For all have got the seed.

And some are pretty enough,
And some are poor indeed;
And now again the people
Call it but a weed.

—  Alfred Lord Tennyson

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A day at the library with friends, family, and fellow Janeites.  What could be better?

Kelly Tanza and Mary C.M. Phillips at the Malverne Public Library, March 2012.

Today was the preview of The Life and Writings of Jane Austen at the Malverne Library.

Along with musician, Kelly Tanza, who contributed her beautiful melodies (vocal and harpsichord/pianoforte synthesizer), we talked about books, letters, writing and Jane, Jane, Jane.

One hour of Jane-talk flew by in a Colin Firth heartbeat.

Thank you to the Malverne Public Library and everyone who came out today to join us.

It made me ever so happy to see the smiling faces of fellow Jane Austen enthusiasts; and it made me even happier to see newly sparked interest in those unfamiliar with our girl.

A joyous event and all around a great day!

If you would like to have our presentation at your library or school simply click here for more information.  (The presentation is available through Nassau County Boces Arts-in-Education as of September 2012).

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I was given the book, The Wild Braid – A Poet Reflects on a Century in the Garden, by Stanley Kunitz.

It’s a collection of conversations and poems from 2002-2006 when Kunitz was in his mid-90s.  Yes…90s.

He writes about his garden and his poetry; with such lovely metaphors about life that, well, I felt compelled enough to post a few:

____________________________________

…you need the silence.  So much of the power of a poem is in what it doesn’t say as much as in what it does say.  As when a flower is preparing to bloom, or after it has bloomed, when it is suspending its strengths and its potency and is at rest — or seems to be, its mission to flower and to produce seed having been fulfilled. 

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I’m truly blessed.

Book cakes by my talented friend Jennifer. http://www.jennyscakeswithcharacter.com

I’m turning 50.  There, I said it.

Fifty.  That round nasty number.  And guess what?

It’s really not that bad.

What’s made it less painful?  A life of faith, family and friends.

When I reflect on this milestone, I think about Jane Austen (I know I obsess on Jane Austen — but hear me out — and have some respect for your elders).

Back in her day, women frequently died in childbirth; or from the flu; or from any old infection since their form of antibiotics was more along the line of blood-sucking leeches.

In fact, poor Emily Bronte’s life was snuffed out early due to common unsanitary conditions.  She simply drank a glass of contaminated water (the source being a runoff from the church’s graveyard) while attending her own brother’s funeral in 1848.  She rejected ‘medical treatment” saying she’d have “no poisoning doctor” near her.  (Actually, I’ve felt the same way at times).

Anyway, where am I going with this?

What does this have to do with turning 50?

Simply…I’m grateful.

I’m grateful to be alive.

A journal and flowers to ease the pain (of 50).

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