Archive for January, 2015

Would I were…

eϊθε  γενοίμην  .  . . .would I were
In Grantchester, in Grantchester !—
Some, it may be, can get in touch
With Nature there, or Earth, or such.
And clever modern men have seen
A Faun a-peeping through the green,
And felt the Classics were not dead,
To glimpse a Naiad’s reedy head,
Or hear the Goat-foot piping low: . . .
But these are things I do not know.

(Excerpt from “The Old Vicarage, Grantchester” by Rupert Brooke)


There’s a reason I haven’t really posted about Houston life here. I don’t like it. There; I’ve said it. I can walk in the private park of our gated building, but if I want to get outside the gates I have to take a taxi because walking or cycling is neither pleasant nor safe in Houston. I’ve been hit by cars a total of 11 times in Houston – and fortunately I haven’t been injured any of those times, but it does make me feel rather unsafe venturing outside the gates.

I take a taxi to go to the supermarket, even if I just need a bottle of milk. While that does mean that a bottle of milk can be rather pricey, I don’t want to drink my coffee without milk. And I can’t safely walk or bike the 1.5 miles to the supermarket; God knows I’ve tried…

A flâneur who can’t walk anywhere is hardly a flâneur at all. And a gardener with no soil is hardly a gardener at all.

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