There’s poetry in a kitchen, too

Edna St. Vincent Millay was born in Rockland, Maine, on this date in 1892. About writing, she once said:

A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down… If it is a good book, nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book, nothing can help him.

Now see, THIS is the moment when I could use a photo of Mark G. Harris dropping trousers when we played 1000 Blank White Cards. Instead, I covered my eyes, because I’m a good girl. Lisa, Lindsey, and Rhonda, however, have no excuse for not grabbing a camera instead of just staring. As for Mark G. Harris, I’ve often said that he’s fearless with his writing, so one day I know he’ll be standing before us all with his pants–at least figuratively–down once again.

Since I don’t have a photo of Mark’s ass, how’d you like to see a photo of:


MY NEW STOVE!

Before and after? Well, first there was this:

Thursday night, I had a message from the store where I bought the stove. They said they’d call Friday morning to tell me when the stove would be delivered. Who knew there were pre-call calls? Friday morning, a little after eight, I got a call telling me they’d deliver between ten and one. Now everyone knows that means they’ll deliver sometime after two, right? So a little before ten, I decided to cook some breakfast. My sausage had just begun to sizzle when the truck pulled up. I took the skillet off the stove, and in LESS THAN TEN MINUTES:

This:

And this:

I was cooking with gas! (Hi, Clara!)

I opened the door in that photo so I could remember, in years to come, how a spotless oven looks. I use my oven A LOT. I also like to cook a lot of vegetables at one time, so I’m really pleased with:

five burners!

I now return you to Edna St. Vincent Millay, who lived a fascinating life (and would never have blogged about stoves, I’ll bet). She was the first woman to receive the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. That Wikipedia link quotes Thomas Hardy as saying that “America [has] two great attractions: the skyscraper and the poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay.”

A sample of her work (a poem I love and dedicate to one of the unnamed lights of my life):

When I too long have looked upon your face,
Wherein for me a brightness unobscured
Save by the mists of brightness has its place,
And terrible beauty not to be endured,
I turn away reluctant from your light,
And stand irresolute, a mind undone,
A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight
From having looked too long upon the sun.
Then is my daily life a narrow room
In which a little while, uncertainly,
Surrounded by impenetrable gloom,
Among familiar things grown strange to me
Making my way, I pause, and feel, and hark,
Till I become accustomed to the dark.

26 thoughts on “There’s poetry in a kitchen, too”

  1. One of my favourites

    Listen, children:
    Your father is dead.
    From his old coats
    I’ll make you little jackets;
    I’ll make you little trousers
    From his old pants.
    There’ll be in his pockets
    Things he used to put there,
    Keys and pennies
    Covered with tobacco;
    Dan shall have the pennies
    To save in his bank;
    Anne shall have the keys
    To make a pretty noise with.
    Life must go on,
    And the dead be forgotten;
    Life must go on,
    Though good men die;
    Anne, eat your breakfast;
    Dan, take your medicine;
    Life must go on;
    I forget just why.

    Edna St. Vincent Millay – Lament

    Reply

    1. Re: One of my favourites

      Thank you.

      If I could have my way, I’d take a book of her poems, go sit in a favorite place outside, and read all day.

      Reply

  3. I love Millay! My mother gave me her bio for Christmas
    a few years ago. She was a very interesting woman
    and, I think, a victim of a lot of sexism from the
    literary establishment. But her sonnets especially
    hold up.

    Reply

    1. I think I’m going to the bookstore later and buy a volume of Millay. I only have her work in anthologies.

      I won’t let myself buy another biography until I finish Virgina Woolf’s, which I bought last century.

      Reply

  5. Please consider reviewing my first novel, just so the publishers can put a blurb like this on the dustjacket:

    …His way with words transported me, and left the real world behind– behind– oh, Fanny, be tender. And did you get a load of Chapter Seven? Cheeky. It’s almost like he went and sat on those pages… ~ Becky Cochrane, author of A Coventry Christmas

    You game? : )

    (That new stove is great!)

    Reply

  7. I’m sure I’ve read that poem in one of my classes; it’s probably in one of my Norton editions. (Have you ever had to lug one of those things around? Talk about an upper body workout!)

    Fabulous stove! One question…have the paper towels ever caught fire?

    Reply

        1. Re: photographic proof

          Ack, that depiction of Elizabeth on Vol 1! My set never had dust jackets (I got them used), but I do remember Elizabeth always staring at me from other students’ books.

          Yours is the seventh edition. Mine is the third. Wierd, since you are older than I am. 😉

          Seriously, I was just flipping through Vol 1 and found an index card on which I’d written over and over that I loved [first husband’s name redacted]. Now that’s OLD.

          Reply

  8. My thought was the same as Jandy’s: kickass stove!!!

    The picture of Mark’s ass, however, is one I will always hold fondly in my mind. 🙂

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *