laundry day and russian poets

Yes, near 80F and laundry day...well, it could be put off no longer (trust me, I tried)

After a trip to the local for pizza and cokes, I put the young firebird and the little tree to work folding laundry with me to the strains of FM transistor radio. We had much fun, laughing over little Tree's "skorts" that became headgear to gales of laughter.

Yeah, I still have to put it all away... :D

Here are the Russian poets as promised:

Hops

Beneath the willow wound round with ivy

we take cover from the worst

of the storm, with a greatcoat round

our shoulders and my hands around your waist.

I've got it wrong. That isn't ivy

entwined in the bushes round

the wood, but hops. You intoxicate me!

Let's spread the greatcoat on the ground

Boris Pasternak

What shall I do with this body they gave me

What shall I do with this body they gave me,

so much my own, so intimate with me?

For being alive, for the joy of calm breath,

tell me, who should I bless?

I am the flower, and the gardener as well,

and am not solitary, in earth’s cell.

My living warmth, exhaled, you can see,

on the clear glass of eternity.

A pattern set down,

until now, unknown.

Breath evaporates without trace,

but form no one can deface.

Osip Mandelstam