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Tonight we made a big pot of chili

thinking that a lot of people would come over, but only a few showed. However, after most of the guests had gone, the two neighbor kids banged on the door while I was baking a cake.

For the first blog, I (Heather) would like to post a poem by my favorite poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things–

For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chesnut-falls, finches’ wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced–fold, fallow, and plough;

And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

Praise him.

The little girl is three, and she helped me finish the cake. She put on my big apron, danced around, and sang, “I’m a baker!”

Some of the perfect moments of living are also wonderfully not perfect.


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