Mornings are quiet here, for now. Well, except for Friday which is garbage day. I do like to be up in time to watch the truck drop it's hooks around my trash receptacle. I'm weird like that. Amazed by how that works and disturbed that it eliminated someone's job. Someone who was generally quieter than the drop-hook-thingy will ever be. But, I digress. Hmmm. Digression is my middle name. And, isn't it also the better part of valor? No, wait. That is discretion. Of the two, that would be the better middle name to have (mine is lynn, for the record).
Anyway, back to mornings being quiet here, for now. Soon school will begin and noise will come earlier to my little world. I love to sit on my porch and watch the parents come around our corner to drop off high school students, and think, 'hey, that used to me!'. Then, I return to sipping my coffee and flipping through my magazine. Well. Actually, once I did that.
Yesterday in the hours before Jonge and Famke arrived I was perched on the end of my squeaky chair trying to figure out how to add to my sidebar this great quote that I found. Why things cannot work the same from blog to blog I shall never understand (don't try to tell me, i really do not care all that much). I still cannot get it to work.
It's a fabulous quote from a poem by William Cowper, but of course I could not just add the quote without learning about the poem it came from, and it's context. No one hates things taken out of context more than I.
So, I read the great Cowper poem about John Gilpin, and still felt the quote was worthy of a spot in my sidebar, in my blog read by Two everyday. www.simplythrift.blogspot.com. One of them being me. The other, ME (no, really ME is someone other than me).
The name William Cowper did seem familiar to me, but I did not want to quote from someone who was perchance extremely evil or something, so I continued on in my quest to find out more about this person who died in 1800.
It never surprises me to find poets who have bouts of serious depression. Actually, it never surprises me to find ANYONE who has bouts of serious depression. I have bouts about that. Doubts too, but mostly bouts (what's that about?).
And, yes. Cowper falls into that category. Armed with the fact that he was human like the rest of us, I continued on in my googlious search on Cowper.
Oh, William Cowper, I DO know you! You wrote one of my favorite hymns (i'm not talking to the dead here, just adding emphasis).
"There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood". I love that hymn. It even has a verse I'd not heard before.
One of the side effects of my personality is that I cannot stop researching things. I know many things now about William Cowper, things that I bet he wished were never going to be known. But, for someone like me 'those things' help me to appreciated his poetry even more. Especially how "There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood" was written after a time of immense pain.
Yet, he could still write a nice little quote like this:
"Though on pleasure she was bent, she had a frugal mind." - William Cowper.
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2 comments:
You are too funny - I am just like that - I find myself telling Tim about it and I will preface it by saying "I was researching something on the internet and I found this and I don't know how I found it, I just wandered across it..."
I went to your thrift blog, Judy, but I'm having a very hard time reading the small text in different colors on the black background. I never knew how much that bothered 'older' eyes - I'm 4 years older than you, ya know - until I changed my template and I had several readers thank me, both in comments and emails. But other than that, it is SO interesting!! And I'm so sorry to hear about Jonge's strange illness. I hope he gets better soon. Poor little people...even when they can talk they still can't always explain what's bothering them.
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