After weeks and weeks of low clouds and endless, non-slanting rain and
unseasonalble warmth, the sun came out at last yesterday, a most welcome
sight, and with it, alas, some frost. And a very modest display of Northern
Lights too. Tonight, after a second day of chilly sunshine, the frost's
hardened and I've just recovered from watching the most bizarre and totally
amazing display of Northern Lights ever! Low in the sky and right above my
house too! With yellow, blue, green and red and pink all vying for a
prominent place in the chorus line before my eyes! Talk about ET! Pah!
What does 'boxing day' mean anyway, when anyone's at home? I always
wondered. Can anyone enlighten me as to the original of that phrase/name or
whatever? What does 'boxing' have to do with the tail end of Christmas?
Best
Árni
--
Árni Ibsen
Stekkjarkinn 19,
220 Hafnarfjördur,
Iceland
tel.: +354-555-3991
e-mail: [log in to unmask]
http://www.centrum.is/~aibsen/
on 12/25/02 11:21 PM, Jill Jones at [log in to unmask] wrote:
> It's now Boxing Day here. Overcast and coolish for summer, around 22
> degrees (celsius), as was Christmas Day. Though a sunny day is better,
> I don't think anyone minded a cooler day and the rain is good for this
> drought-affected state (and our garden). It was quite pleasant and
> peaceful being with family this year. I did get my finger bitten by a
> wild white cockatoo that I was feeding in my brother's garden but that
> was my fault I guess. Didn't draw blood but it sure made a deep
> (temporary) dent in my index finger. Sydney is full of a lot of native
> birds at the moment, seeking refuge from the dry and drought.
>
> Today is the great sports day, start of the Boxing Day test in
> Melbourne and the Sydney to Hobart here in Sydney. So some couch potato
> stuff might happen later, in between visiting friends up the road.
>
> So, there seems no time for poetry but I am tidying up my study this
> morning and this always means that in mid-tidy I find a volume of
> poetry and leave busyness for some peaceful reading. In the meantime,
> though it's not poetry, I'm listening to a Christmas present, an
> anthology of John Prine songs called Great Days.
>
> But the silent snowy Toronto morning certainly sounds peaceful the way
> you describe it and the Tranströmer sounds extra good. I've not seen
> that selected in a bookshop here but I'd be buying it if I did.
> On Thursday, December 26, 2002, at 04:19 AM, Stuart Ross wrote:
>
>> Such a beautifully silent Toronto morning, the city blanketed in
>> several centimetres of snow, and more snow blowing strong beyond my
>> window, muffling the stirrings and creakings of trees, and the
>> occasional sounds of cars in the distance. You can almost believe
>> peace is possible. Poetry is definitely possible. Gonna slide back
>> into Tomas Tranströmer's Selected ...
>> Liz writes:
>>
>>> A lovely quiet morning here. Slow golden sun shining across damp rooftops.
>>> A few rainclouds lit up from inside with mellow light, against blue sky.
|