Sing we for love and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having.
Though I have been in many a land,
There is naught else in living.
And I would rather have my sweet,
Though rose-leaves die of grieving,
Than do high deeds in Hungary
To pass all men's believing.
-Ezra Pound
I uploaded this quite a while ago, but kept it private on flickr because it had not yet been assembled into a collective afghan made by the local knit/crochet group for a departing member - it was my hope that the squares with their waving, undulating pattern and natural colors would remind her of the coulees here in southern Alberta.
I was reminded of it when she pinged me on Google chat last week, and again this weekend, at the memorial of a friend who loved walking through, as she called them, the "voluptuous coulees".
So here's to Kathryn, off to wonderful new opportunities in a new job and province, and here's to Lee - may she ever continue to walk far, through a blaze of colour and the voluptuous landscape of unknown horizons.
I was reminded of it when she pinged me on Google chat last week, and again this weekend, at the memorial of a friend who loved walking through, as she called them, the "voluptuous coulees".
So here's to Kathryn, off to wonderful new opportunities in a new job and province, and here's to Lee - may she ever continue to walk far, through a blaze of colour and the voluptuous landscape of unknown horizons.