(no subject)
My dad wrote this about our beloved campout.
My Shire
I was near the foundation of the planned house
The place teemed with life no winter could douse
Standing on the hill in ten inches of snow
The sound all around were words only trees know
It was coming from the branches moving in the wind
Rising from the silence as an awful din
Was there something moving? I could've sworn I heard...
After a moment there was the call of a bird
Simply beautiful seemed to be my only contention
And I wondered if others stopped to pay attention
Would these curious thoughts race through someone elses head
About the wonder and calm of a world that seemed dead?
To interrupt Nature while she worked was bold
But, there was majesty in this place white and cold
So I tried to be as quiet as I could
Like this was a church under a canopy of wood
I felt that I should take my leave of this place
Because I was starting to feel the cold on my face
I couldn't make this any better, I won't even raise a finger
So, for only a few minutes more here will I linger
My grandpa is going to be buried on the property. We are getting the land rezoned and part of it will be a cemetary. Visitation is Thursday from 2-8p and the memorial will be Friday at 1p. He won't be buried until April when the land is warmer [policy up there]. I don't know if anybody reading this has ever met him [save Liz] so I guess I'm just writing the information to write it. My dad is heading up later today with my cousin KB. I'll be heading up Thursday.
Our campout won't be the same without Grandpa sitting at his euchre table the entire weekend. Not moving even if he lost. :p His spirit will always be there though. He was telling my dad last week that him and Grandma were planning on doing a bunch of travelling this year; to go see Uncle Art, to check out Uncle Robert's new house, etc. He'll get there this year. I know it.
My Shire
I was near the foundation of the planned house
The place teemed with life no winter could douse
Standing on the hill in ten inches of snow
The sound all around were words only trees know
It was coming from the branches moving in the wind
Rising from the silence as an awful din
Was there something moving? I could've sworn I heard...
After a moment there was the call of a bird
Simply beautiful seemed to be my only contention
And I wondered if others stopped to pay attention
Would these curious thoughts race through someone elses head
About the wonder and calm of a world that seemed dead?
To interrupt Nature while she worked was bold
But, there was majesty in this place white and cold
So I tried to be as quiet as I could
Like this was a church under a canopy of wood
I felt that I should take my leave of this place
Because I was starting to feel the cold on my face
I couldn't make this any better, I won't even raise a finger
So, for only a few minutes more here will I linger
My grandpa is going to be buried on the property. We are getting the land rezoned and part of it will be a cemetary. Visitation is Thursday from 2-8p and the memorial will be Friday at 1p. He won't be buried until April when the land is warmer [policy up there]. I don't know if anybody reading this has ever met him [save Liz] so I guess I'm just writing the information to write it. My dad is heading up later today with my cousin KB. I'll be heading up Thursday.
Our campout won't be the same without Grandpa sitting at his euchre table the entire weekend. Not moving even if he lost. :p His spirit will always be there though. He was telling my dad last week that him and Grandma were planning on doing a bunch of travelling this year; to go see Uncle Art, to check out Uncle Robert's new house, etc. He'll get there this year. I know it.