“[Comets] were imagined
in ancient times to be prodigies hung
out by the immediate hand of God
in the heavens, and intended to alarm the world.
Their nature being now better understood,
they are no longer terrible.
But as there are still many who think
them to be heavenly warnings, portents of future events,
it may not be improper for the tutor to inform
his pupil, that the Architect of the Universe
has framed every part according to divine order,
and subjected all things to laws and regulations:
that he does not hurl at random stars and worlds,
and disorder the system of the whole glorious frame,
to produce false apprehensions of distant events,
fears without foundation, and without use.”

Astronomical and Geographical Essays by George Adams, London: 1790

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/4754797.stm

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

SOIL STUDY AT SUGAR HOLLOW

May 13, 2006 by Melanie Alberts.

Near Charlottesville, Virginia

By the creek bed beneath waves
of drowned grass
I help you, the future science teacher,

dig a hole twenty inches deep.
First quarter inch yields
river sand, no mystery.

The grains in your hand
are prisms of green and amber quartz,
but the field guide

written by a Japanese scientist
to standardize the globe’s soils
insists it is brown. So it is.

You flick the sand from your hands.

As you study the hole I, the poet, see
that Demeter’s been to Sugar Hollow.
Hungry to turn the land stark

and cold she’s shaken the leaves down
around us. You say a front is coming in.
It flows between us like her black cape.

I say You know how spring smells
Of earthworms; summer, onion grass?
You nod. Autumn air rifles through clumps

of leaves in the crotches of trees.
Winter is white breath and ice.
I stand staring into the hole we dug,

it looks warm and deep. Your hand comes up
with a slice of clay you roll in your palm, sniff.
I say it’s the color of dried blood but

the book corrects me: this clay is brown.
I step close and take its photograph,
you smile, sprinkle it into a little bag.

Seven bags later the hole is filled.

We cross the plain, the bending grass,
carry shovel, spade, book and bags.
Back at the car, the unpaved road,

you kiss me for the first time.
I feel like a seed stretching
blindly, finally, through the brown dirt.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

amazing artist friends

blogroll

for fun

read me

Archive for May 2006

The Captive

Rebecca’s Garden Ginko

SOIL STUDY AT SUGAR HOLLOW