Renewing Old Acquaintances

Today I was reunited with some old friends.

These are books that have to do with the history of the Silver Valley.

In the summer of 2004, I quit my job as a reporter at the local newspaper to start writing a book...an historical fiction novel about the Silver Valley.

A wonderful friend of mine owns two houses in Gem, a small community along Canyon Creek up the Burke Canyon outside of Wallace. She graciously offered me the use of the smaller of her two houses to use as a writing studio. So I moved in and took many of my books up to use for research for the story I am writing.

The house was named "The Swallow's Nest" and many wonderful days were spend there reading books, writing down information, typing it into the computer. It was also wonderful to take my dog Peaches for a walk down the road a ways and see the sight where the Frisco Mine Mill was blown up on July 11, 1892. In the book "Coeur d'Alene Diary" by Richard G. Magnuson, there is a picture on page 160 of the mill before the explosion and one taken right after the explosion.

When you look at the pictures in the book, then go look at the hillside 115 years later, it is amazing what is still on the hillside and parts of the structure you can still make out even today.

The Frisco Mill explosion was the result of labor unrest. The union didn't want non-union workers working in the mines, but the Frisco, Gem and Bunker Hill mines all hired non union miners. Fights between the union and non-union workers were becoming more common.

On July 10th, union men from Wallace, Mullan and Burke gathered in Gem armed with rifles, shotguns and revolvers. On the morning of July 11th, there were men on both sides of the canyon on the hillsides armed with guns. Early that morning, union men started firing at the Frisco Mine and Mill property.

The miners probably didn't plan on blowing up the mill, but it arose as an incident of this battle. Here is how the incident is described happening in "Coeur d'Alene Diary".

The men above the mill swung around, and got to the flume where the penstock goes to the mill. Bullets whistled about these men, but they had only one aim--to get the boxes of powder down the penstock. The pipe was full of water, so holes were shot in it near the wheel. When the water drained out, the powder was sent down, and the last box of powder had a fuse attached. In the ensuing explosion, the entire old mill building seemed to rise bodily from the ground and then drop back, a mass of ruins. How many men were in the mill was not known, most of them had gone into the new mill after the first attempt to send down powder had failed.

This explosion caused damage of about $20,000.

It was a bit of a muse having that site just down the road, or just look out the window of the house and see that historic site. I am fascinated by the history of the Silver Valley, and hope to some day share it with others in the form of a novel.

Now that I have all my old "friends" back, I hope to continue sharing more of the fascinating history of the Silver Valley.

#36 My Tree--An Extravaganza Before God

11 Let's hear it from Sky,

With Earth joining in,

And a huge round of applause from Sea.

12 Let Wilderness turn cartwheels,

Animals, come dance,

Put every tree of the forest in the choir—

13 An extravaganza before God as he comes,

As he comes to set everything right on earth,

Set everything right, treat everyone fair.

Psalm 96:11-13 (The Message Bible)

Burt and Pat's Weeping Cherry Tree

My father-in-law sent this beautiful picture of the weeping cherry tree at their home in Meridian, Idaho. Obviously spring has arrived in southern Idaho a little earlier than here in the Silver Valley. Here is what Burt said about his tree:

"Here it is, our beautiful weeping cherry tree. Although it is weeping we don't think it's sad and it makes us happy to see it bloom every spring."

Sibling Sojourn

Today Raymond Pert, Inland Empire Girl and myself hit the road to revisit some childhood memories and experience some new ones.

The morning began as we gathered at my house and grabbed our digital cameras, our computers and got in Inland Empire Girl's car and headed down Interstate 90 for Coeur d'Alene.

First stop:

We visited this coffee shop because the owner is Terry Patano and his wife Rebecca. Terry is from Kellogg and went to high school with both my brother and sister. His parents owned a clothing store in uptown Kellogg while I was growing up called "Patanos" (imagine that). An important fact regarding this clothing store was the fact that every Christmas Dad took my sister, or, once she was gone, myself to go and help Dad purchase a Christmas present for Mom. This happened every year without fail. I remember many visits to "Patano's" growing up and playing in between the clothing racks.

Here is what Raymond Pert treated his sisters to this morning:

I had a mocha and a pecan roll. Inland Empire Girl had a Espresso Hazelnut Chocolate Chip scone with a Caramel Vanilla Latte, and Raymond Pert had a cup of the house coffee and a croissant. It was a beautful day in Coeur d' Alene, and I had a prime seat for people watching on Sherman Avenue.

We decided to take the "old road" from Post Falls to State Line. There was some familiar looking sights, but it was evident there have been many changes since I-90 changed course in the Idaho Panhandle.

The Slab Inn in Post Falls hasn't changed hardly at all, at least on the outside.

In State Line, the Kon Tiki was there, but El Patio was gone.

As we headed into Washington state, I remembered the many trips we took to Spokane growing up to see my Grandma.

For many years, we always took the Argonne exit. I knew we were there because of the watertower.

I hadn't been on this route to Grandma's old house for many years. Probably over 20 years. I was amazed how many things looked the same after all this time. As we head up Argonne we turned left on Trent, then went until we veered off to the right onto Mission Ave. Spokane Community College was always a landmark on the way to Grandma's house. It looks better these days, now that it is a pastel color as opposed to the green color I remember as a child.

There is a city park on the left past the college, and, as we drove past, I felt like I was in a time warp because it hadn't changed much as all.

When we reached Hamilton St., we made a left and headed down to have lunch at one of our dad's favorite Spokane hang outs where he would often stop to have a "cold one".



















I have traveled past this establishment for over 40 years, and today was the first time I ever passed through the doors.

We took a few moments to peruse the menu.


























I had the corned beef sandwich from the "Jack and Danwiches" section of the menu. Raymond Pert had hot wings, and Inland Empire Girl had a tuna sandwich. Our waitress got a kick out of all the picture we took during our meal. She recently purchased a digital camera herself and knew how fun they could be.




Then it was back up Hamilton which turns into Nevada and we took a left at Bridgeport Ave. Then we drove past Grandma Woolum's house. It was familiar, but also different. It was strange seeing a car parked in the yard, and a boat in the back yard where Grandma used to have her vegetable garden. We drove down the alley behind the house, but there was a six foot fence in back, so we couldn't see in from the back.


We also traveled down Boone to see if we could find out Great Aunt Esta's old house. We couldn't tell which one was hers, but we did remember a particular day we all spent at that house when Esta's daughter had recently had a baby and she was breast feeding right out in front of everyone (this was probably in about 1970, before breastfeeding in front of people was common) and Dad voiced his discomfort quite loudly. There were also two older kids in this family, but we are still trying to remember the girl's name. Mike was the son, but we can't remember the daughter. All Mom could remember when we asked her was that this nameless cousin received Grandma's cookoo clock when Grandma died.


Oh, I just remembered...her name was Patty.


Then we ran some errands, and headed back my house in Kellogg for a wonderful dinner prepared by Inland Empire Girl. We had hot crab dip, salad, and a delicious pasta dish, followed by Idaho Spud Fondue for dessert. We also fixed Mojitos. Yum-m-m-m.

I did learn a few new things today while on this adventure with my siblings. Here they are:

1. I never knew Smelterville had a roller skating rink in the early 1960's.
2. I didn't know Raymond Pert had no idea there was a Fun Center in Smelterville in the late 1970's and early 1980's and that it also had a roller rink, not to mention a bowling alley, video games and Pappy's Pizza.
3. Raymond Pert said he remembered sitting in the car in front of the Stromboli place when Dad would go in and have a "cold one" at Jack and Dan's after they attended some sporting event together.
4. That there is a big truck with part of a bridge headed for Tacoma that is too heavy to travel on Washington roads. Inland Empire Girl pointed the truck out as we passed the weigh station.
5. That certain employees at Huckleberries on Monroe Street frown upon college professors in their early 50's taking pictures inside their store.




Well, the adventure continues tomorrow, but we add another, our mother, and we are touring the Silver Valley. Stayed tuned tomorrow for the next installment of "The Adventures of the "Bloggin' Family Woolum".

#35 My Tree--Framing Progress in the Silver Valley

Nowadays almost all man’s improvements,

so called, as the building of houses and the cutting down of the forest

and of all large trees, simply deform the landscape,

and make it more and more tame and cheap.

- Henry David Thoreau

#34 My Tree--Visited by Snug the Joiner

Snug: Have you the lion’s part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me; for I am slow of study.

Quince: You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

--William Shakespeare (1564–1616), British dramatist, poet. Snug and Quince, in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, act 1, sc. 2, l. 66-8.

#33 My Tree--Here Comes The Sun

Here Comes The Sun

George Harrison

Here comes the sun,
here comes the sun,
and I say it's all right

Little darling,
it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling,
it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun,
here comes the sun
and I say it's all right

Little darling,
the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling,
it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun,
here comes the sun
and I say it's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Little darling,
I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling,
it seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun,
here comes the sun,
and I say it's all right
It's all right

The Shoe Tree

My niece Jenn sent me this picture of a tree in the middle of the Oregon desert. She had posted these pics on her blog here.

Here is what she wrote about the tree.

I’m not sure why this tree always freaks me out. I mean, it’s not like the tree stole all these shoes by itself - but it really makes me think, “who took the time to throw all those pairs of shoes up in a tree in the middle of the desert?”. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about all the things that people do that, in the long run, really don’t matter at all. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that with some sort of angst or anything, I just think pressing on into things that actually matter eternally, may be the ticket. I was reading James (you know Martin Luther called it the gospel of straw... what??) - and James 4:13-15 NKJV says this:
Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a profit”; whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we shall live and do this or that.”
So, unlike this tree that doesn’t really “mean” anything, I want my life to be spent doing something that, not only means something, but more importantly means something to God.

You can also check out my new great niece here and here.

(yes, I am a great aunt three times over, plus one more on the way. I'm sure I am way too young for that distinction yet)

Thanks, Jenn, for being the first to send me a tree since I sent out a request. Since your dad Kent started it, maybe we can get Drew to send one, too.

Music Through The Years--A Simple Gift

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.

I thought of the words to this song "Simple Gifts" as I heard my daughter Z2's band play it tonight at the Kellogg All School Band Concert at Kellogg Middle School tonight.

Tonight's concert was a simple gift.

I really enjoy watching my daughters learn to play an instrument and perform in a band concert.

Tonight was Kiki Aru's debut band concert. She plays the alto saxaphone, and her fifth grade band from Sunnyside Elementary combined with other fifth grade band members from Pinehurst Elementary and Canyon School to perform "Frere Jacques", "Sawmill Creek" and "Louie, Louie".



They sounded great.

There is Kiki Aru playing the sax (the one with the purple arrow above her head).




Then Z2 played the flute as the 7th and 8th grade band played "March of the Irish Guard".





She made her percussion debut playing the triangle on "Shaker Variants", the song that provoked this blog post.





We also were entertained by the 6th grade band playing "Korean Hill Song", "Ancient Moon" and two drummers were awesome as the band played "Wipe Out".

The Kellogg High School band played "Chant Rituals", and "Haven Dance".

The final performance was from the Jazz Band as they played "Caution: Contents Under Pressure", "Sax to the Max", "Backburner" and "Play That Funky Music".

Rick Dickinson, the band director for the past 25 years in Kellogg does a great job with the band students and tonights concert was a testimony to the great work he does.

I graduated from KHS in 1981, and I believe he was hired the following year, and has been there ever since.

I am so glad my daughters are following in my band footsteps. I played the flute just like Z2. I started out in 5th grade with Wayne Benson as my band instructor through 9th grade at Kellogg Junior High. When I went to Kellogg High School, my band and choir teacher was Al Taylor.

I have some great memories of being in band. When I went to college at the University of Idaho, I was also in the marching band for two years.

I still play around on my flute some. I love playing it, and I hope my girls continue on playing in band and enjoying it as much as I did.

Music is such a simple gift.

#32 My Tree--Tipsy Tree

Frau Stöhr ... began to talk about how fascinating

it was to cough.... Sneezing was much the same thing.

You kept on wanting to sneeze until you simply

couldn’t stand it any longer; you looked as if

you were tipsy; you drew a couple of breaths,

then out it came, and you forgot everything else

in the bliss of the sensation. Sometimes the explosion

repeated itself two or three times. That was the sort

of pleasure life gave you free of charge.

- Thomas Mann

Checkmate

This is our cat Toby Montana.
I am proud to say Toby is the one and only animal I have brought home since managing the local animal hospital in town. I've worked there for about 1 1/2 years.

Toby only has three legs. From what I understand, he was caught in a trap at his home in Montana, and the owners wouldn't bring him in for treatment. The neighbors finally did and the leg was so infected by that time, that it needed to be amputated.

Toby lived at the clinic for quite a while, because we knew he would need a special home because of his three legged status.

Even though we already had 4 cats, something about Toby tugged at my heart. I talked it over with PKR, and Toby came home with us.

When you want Toby to come to you, just call his name, and he comes a running, and jumps up on your lap to be petted. I have never seen Toby scratch or bite any human on purpose. He is very gentle.

Of our five cats, Toby is the nicest and gentlest cat, but is scared of nothing. When my brother Raymond Pert arrived for a visit tonight with his dog Snug, Toby just hissed and was ready to attack when Snug started barking at him. NO FEAR!

But yet, when Sadie, our little Pommerenian, wants to jump over and bite and play with Toby, he is all for it. He plays and rolls and has a great time, and, when he has had enough, he does it little swipe at Sadie, and they are done.

And his three legs don 't stop him. If he is outside, he can still jump up on our 6 foot fence. He has compensated well since losing his limb. Sometimes he forgets, though. Last fall, he was trying to cover up some of his droppings in some soft dirt in the backyard, and had his good paw on the ground, and was moving his shoulder where his limb should have been. Just part of that feline instinct.

Tonight he came and sat on our chess board that we have on an end table in the living room. Now Toby is a pretty wide cat, but he sat down between both rows of chess pieces, and didn't move one of them. They didn't move when he laid down. They didn't move when he got up and moved off the board.

Toby, thy name is GRACE.

#31 My Tree--Under A Cloudy Sky

The poem goes from the poet’s gibberish to

The gibberish of the vulgate and back again.

Does it move to and fro or is it of both

At once? Is it a luminous flittering

Or the concentration of a cloudy day?

- Wallace Stevens

Another AAU Weekend

Congrats to Kika Aru and her Silver Valley Sting 5th grade AAU team for getting second place in the North Spokane Classic Basketball Tournament.

Here's the second place team. Go SV Sting!!!! They have come a long way this year.

The tournament was in the town of Chattaroy, Washington. What a beautiful community. Look at the three big moss covered rocks that have a house built behind them.

There was also a pretty stream in Chattaroy.

Kiki Aru's AAU basketball season is now done until summer. She will probably attend some camps, and possibly participate in a three on three tournament. I was very proud of these girls this weekend and look forward to many years of basketball following their progress.

#30 My Tree--Drippy Rain Tree

Rain is grace;

rain is the sky condescending to the earth;

without rain, there would be no life.

- John Updike

#29 My Tree--A Watercolor of My Tree

I have often thought that if photography were difficult in the true sense of the term—meaning that the creation of a simple photograph would entail as much time and effort as the production of a good watercolor or etching—there would be a vast improvement in total output. The sheer ease with which we can produce a superficial image often leads to creative disaster.

- Ansel Adams

#28 My Tree--Upside down

The sound principle of a topsy-turvy lifestyle

in the framework of an upside-down world order

has stood every test.

- Karl Kraus

A Celebration of Motherhood

My Huckleberry Book Club met today, and in the invitation, JR said to come and celebrate motherhood. This was because of our book this month, "The Memory Keeper's Daughter" by Kim Edwards.

I, of course, was a bit confused, because I was totally reading the WRONG book and couldn't figure out how that book tied in to motherhood. Well, I was set straight at book group.

As we were visiting in our usual manner, something very special happened. JR was talking about her son Steven, and mentioned the fact he was adopted.

MGP looked at JR and told her she didn't realize that, and tears started welling up in her eyes.

"I have a special place in my heart for mothers who have adopted children," she told us. "You see, when I was 16, I had to give up a child."

She went on to tell us the story of a frightened young girl who, at 16 in the 1950's is like our 13 year olds of today. She was enamored with a friend of her older brother and he convinced her to do something, which then changed the course of her life.

At this time in history, girls were sent to Kansas to a home for unwed mothers.

"I arrived at this mansion and was snuck in the back door." she said. "The girls with lots of money were on the top floor. The girls with a little less money were on the middle floor. And those with no money, like myself, were in the basement."

And those who lived in the basement also had to wake up early each morning and help in the kitchen.

I told her it reminded me of the Titanic.

The story back home was that she had a sick grandmother and she had gone to take care of her.

When she was gone, one of her brothers was married, and she didn't get to be at the wedding.

When she returned home, it was never spoken of, not for 25 years.

Then she decided it was time to see if she could find her daughter. She put information in a reunion agency and received a reply from the agency saying they think there may be a match. This woman had put her information in within a week of MGP.

They spoke on the phone for 5 hours the first time they made contact. The girl's parents had always told her, since she was three, that there was another mother out there that loved her very much.

After visiting with her daughter, meeting her, and developing a friendship with her, her daughter told her she was unable to have children of her own.

The new found daughter has now adopted two children.

This is one of the reasons JR's story touched MGP so much....because the adoption story has come full circle. She gave up her daughter who was adopted by a lovely family. The daughter could have no children, so she shared her love with two adopted children of her own.

MGP said once she started telling this story, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and she came to realize she wasn't the horrible person she believed herself to be for many years.

Thanks JR, MGP and NP for helping me celebrate motherhood today in a very unique and special way. And thank you for each being unique and wonderful mothers in your own right.

Kent's Snowy Tree

My brother-in-law Kent has been enjoying my tree pictures, so he decided to send me this beautiful picture of the tree in his backyard in Blue River, Oregon. If anyone else would like to submit a tree picture from their backyard, please email them to me at pkrbywed@juno.com and tell me who you are and where your tree is located. I hope to get trees from all over the world.

#27 My Tree--PKR Checks Tree Buds With Peaches and Sadie

What is last year’s snow to me,

Last year’s anything?

The tree

Budding yearly must forget

How its past arose or set—

- Countee Cullen

Psycho Encounters Whoville

This summer our family traveled to Southern California for a family vacation. One of our stops was Universal Studios, where we took the backlot tour.

One of my favorite pictures I took was the one above, where the Bates Motel from the movie "Psycho" has Whoville from the "Grinch" movie in the background.

Our tour guide told us a great story about having the tour riding by the Psycho set up, and all of a sudden a person came out of the house, in a dress with a wig on and carrying a knife. I guess some of the tour members were a bit startled. It turned out to be none other than Jim Carey, who was there filming "The Grinch" next door in Whoville.

Wouldn't you have loved to have been on that tour?

Hey, what do Norman Bates and the Grinch have in common?

They both carved the roast beast.

Sorry.

It is late.

But I couldn't resist.

#26 My Tree--Greets Spring This Morning

"Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him."

Lamentations 3:22-24

The Titian-Haired Detective

Our latest sibling writing assignment was posed to us by InlandEmpireGirl. She wanted us to write about a book that made an impact on us while we were growing up.

With me, it wasn’t one book, but a whole series.

When I reached about third grade, I was drawn to a certain special shelf at the Kellogg Public Library that held a series of books and I decided I was going to read every one of them.

These were the Nancy Drew books.

Each mystery took me to River Heights, into the world of Nancy Drew and her family and friends who would often stumble on a mystery to solve, or would get some help find the mystery from her lawyer father Carson Drew.

However she would find her mystery, the words on the page sucked you into Nancy’s world. I remember some of the books described her hair as titian. I always wondered what color titian really was…but I guess I knew she was some kind of blond. And she drove a blue convertible.

Besides her father Carson, there was her housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, who was more like a mother figure to her.

Her two best friends were George Fayne, the tomboy, and Bess Marvin, George’s cousin who they always described as plump, but pretty. They often were right there with Nancy, helping her solve the latest mystery.

Occasionally, Nancy would get help solving the mysteries from Ned Nickerson, her boyfriend, and his two friends Burt Eddleton and Dave Evans, who would often hook up with the cousins.

Nancy was always brave and self-assured. She never seemed too scared of what might happen on her sleuthing trips. Bess was usually the one who got scared.
I remember being up in my bedroom at night reading the books, and trying figure out the mystery before Nancy did. Sometimes they got a little spooky. I enjoyed that too.

Some of the titles I remember are and that were my favorites were:

Secret of the Old Clock
The Hidden Staircase
The Clue in the Diary
The Whispering Statue
The Secret in the Old Attic
The Clue in the Old Album
Ghost of Blackwood Hall
The Clue in the Old Stagecoach
The Clue of the Dancing Puppet
The Moonstone Castle Mystery
The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes
The Phantom of Pine Hill
The Mystery of the 99 Steps


My daughters have read some Nancy Drew mysteries. I don’t like the modern ones. They have Nancy breaking and entering, and doing things “my Nancy” from the 60’s and 70’s would have never done.

She had more class.

#25 My Tree--Goodbye To Winter

And forever goodbye!

Forever!

Oh, Sir, can you imagine

how dreadful this cruel word sounds

when one loves?

- Jean Racine

#24 My Tree--Starting to Bud

Craving for Spring

I wish it were spring in the world.

Let it be spring!

Come, bubbling, surging tide of sap!

Come, rush of creation!

Come, life! surge through this mass of mortification!

Come, sweep away these exquisite, ghastly first-flowers,which are rather last-flowers!

Come, thaw down their cool portentousness, dissolve them:snowdrops, straight, death-veined exhalations of white and purple crocuses,

flowers of the penumbra, issue of corruption, nourished in mortification,

jets of exquisite finality;

Come, spring, make havoc of them!

I trample on the snowdrops, it gives me pleasure to tread down the jonquils,to destroy the chill Lent lilies;

for I am sick of them, their faint-bloodedness,

slow-blooded, icy-fleshed, portentous.

I want the fine, kindling wine-sap of spring,

gold, and of inconceivably fine, quintessential brightness,

rare almost as beams, yet overwhelmingly potent,

strong like the greatest force of world-balancing.

This is the same that picks up the harvest of wheat

and rocks it, tons of grain, on the ripening wind;

the same that dangles the globe-shaped pleiads of fruit

temptingly in mid-air, between a playful thumb and finger; oh, and suddenly, from out of nowhere, whirls the pear-bloom,upon us, and apple- and almond- and apricot- and quince-blossom,

storms and cumulus clouds of all imaginable blossom

about our bewildered faces,though we do not worship.

I wish it were spring

cunningly blowing on the fallen sparks, odds and ends of the old, scattered fire,and kindling shapely little conflagrations

curious long-legged foals, and wide-eared calves, and naked sparrow-bubs.

I wish that spring

would start the thundering traffic of feet

new feet on the earth, beating with impatience.

I wish it were spring, thundering

delicate, tender spring.

I wish these brittle, frost-lovely flowers of passionate, mysterious corruption

were not yet to come still more from the still-flickering discontent.

Oh, in the spring, the bluebell bows him down for very exuberance,

exulting with secret warm excess,

bowed down with his inner magnificence!

Oh, yes, the gush of spring is strong enough

to toss the globe of earth like a ball on a water-jet

dancing sportfully;

as you see a tiny celluloid ball tossing on a squirt of water

for men to shoot at, penny-a-time, in a booth at a fair.

The gush of spring is strong enough

to play with the globe of earth like a ball on a fountain;

At the same time it opens the tiny hands of the hazel

with such infinite patience.

The power of the rising, golden, all-creative sap could take the earth

and heave it off among the stars, into the invisible;

the same sets the throstle at sunset on a bough

singing against the blackbird;

comes out in the hesitating tremor of the primrose,and betrays its candour in the round white strawberry flower,

is dignified in the foxglove, like a Red-Indian brave.

Ah come, come quickly, spring!

come and lift us towards our culmination, we myriads;

we who have never flowered, like patient cactuses.

Come and lift us to our end, to blossom, bring us to our summer

we who are winter-weary in the winter of the world.

Come making the chaffinch nests hollow and cosy,

come and soften the willow buds till they are puffed and furred,

then blow them over with gold.

Coma and cajole the gawky colt’s-foot flowers.

Come quickly, and vindicate us

against too much death.

Come quickly, and stir the rotten globe of the world from within,

burst it with germination, with world anew.

Come now, to us, your adherents, who cannot flower from the ice.

All the world gleams with the lilies of death the Unconquerable,

but come, give us our turn.

Enough of the virgins and lilies, of passionate, suffocating perfume of corruption,

no more narcissus perfume, lily harlots, the blades of sensation

piercing the flesh to blossom of death.

Have done, have done with this shuddering, delicious business

of thrilling ruin in the flesh, of pungent passion, of rare, death-edged ecstasy.

Give us our turn, give us a chance, let our hour strike,

O soon, soon!

Let the darkness turn violet with rich dawn.

Let the darkness be warmed, warmed through to a ruddy violet,

incipient purpling towards summer in the world of the heart of man.

Are the violets already here!

Show me! I tremble so much to hear it, that even now

on the threshold of spring, I fear I shall die.

Show me the violets that are out.

Oh, if it be true, and the living darkness of the blood of man is purpling with violets,

if the violets are coming out from under the rack of men, winter-rotten and fallen,

we shall have spring.

Pray not to die on this Pisgah blossoming with violets.

Pray to live through.

If you catch a whiff of violets from the darkness of the shadow of manit will be spring in the world,it will be spring in the world of the living;wonderment organising itself, heralding itself with the violets,

stirring of new seasons.

Ah, do not let me die on the brink of such anticipation!

Worse, let me not deceive myself.

- D.H.Lawrence