Poetic to the Point of Being Psychic?

I have a bit of an odd tale about one of Seamus (pronounced, Shame-us) Heaney's poems, which is the first poem in his book titled Human Chain. My friend in Ireland sent me this book as a gift in November of 2013 and it arrived on November 26th- within the same month that an Aunt of mine-my favorite Aunt, no less!- passed away and a little more than a year after my Mum's passing. 
On the 25th of November, just the day before, I had a weird experience. I had walked into my mother's room at the same time that I suddenly heard what sounded like a waterfall against one of her windows and immediately thought that I was hearing a sudden violent rainstorm but as I looked out the other window I could see that the late afternoon was still sunny and no rain had hit that window. It was dry and clear. 

The sound was deafening for only a moment- like that of wind and rain- and it continued but I suddenly felt the urge to go out and investigate. 
As I came out the side door to my house I saw leaves violently hitting the bricks against the house and then they suddenly quit. I looked around and there were no leaves any where else. I neared the window to get a closer look and found that one leaf had lodged itself into a space between two bricks. I couldn't reconcile the sound I heard with what I saw but I was left to think about this for only a day.
When the book arrived from my friend the next day and I saw that it was poetry I opened it immediately and read the first poem. The following is the poem, titled, 'Had I not been awake'.

Had I not been awake I would have missed it,

A wind that rose and whirled until the roof

Pattered with quick leaves off the sycamore

And got me up, the whole of me a-patter,

Alive and ticking like an electric fence:

Had I not been awake I would have missed it,

It came and went so unexpectedly

And almost it seemed dangerously,

Returning like an animal to the house,

A courier blast that there and then

Lapsed ordinary. But not ever

After. And not now.

I've always told people that some of my poems are prophetic because my poems written as a teenager were actually outside my scope of experience, at times, and then I would experience what I'd written later. This episode with Seamus' poetry really grabbed my attention and I urge one and all to take a look at his poetry. He passed away in a Dublin hospital in August of that year himself at the age of 74 and is seriously missed as an international poet who won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1995. Please give this man's poetry a look as we all need to listen to our prophets as much now as ever. 

Dihunamb,

The Castle Lady

 

Sultry September

While the eastern states have been getting hit with incredibly bad weather all this year, Denver has been breaking or matching high heat records that make trees wilt. Old sol decided to give us a brief break at the beginning of this month- particularly around my birthday in the first full week- but it’s been back to 90 + days for about three weeks and only broke today with primarily 60 degrees. Our high today was 72. I’m looking forward to winter about now. Phew! I was ready for a break!

     Meanwhile, I’m dealing with an early grape harvest- the earliest I’ve ever known since Mom grafted a piece of Grandpa Walters vine from the old country in the yard. That comprises one large section of prize-winning grapes from Burgundy which stretches across 100 feet of fence line and I’ve already grabbed a sizeable enough batch of those for myself to make a gallon of juice! It is great tasting, full-bodied and sweet as can be without a single granule of added sugar! Concorde grapes like these are loaded with antioxidants and give you energy along with improving vision! The other 75 feet of vines are newer additions added more than a decade and a half past. If you happen to be lucky enough to live in the Athmar Park section of Denver you can mosey on over here and get some for yourself. Just make sure you call me first to let me know you’re coming. Bring a raccoon trap with you and I’ll give you a gallon of juice free. No kidding. Wascally wacoon!

http://evelyns-nailsforlife.blogspot.com

 

     Top agenda for me this summer was finally getting my hair done and needed it badly when I had it done on my birthday. I don’t know how anyone else feels about it but getting my hair overhauled gives me a new lease on life. It’s right up there with teeth whitening, a new handbag, new car or a whole new wardrobe! For others it may be getting a full set of nails after having them off for a long period of time but for me, that’s business as usual, of course. It’s one of the constant perks of being the best nail tech on the planet, if I have to say so myself. It speaks volumes that I wouldn’t consider getting my nails done by anyone else unless I’m out of town or in another country. Pedicures are another matter. When you have to massage your own feet something gets lost in translation.

     At any rate, I’m up to my elbows in too much to do, once again. Sometimes that’s great but along with the heat I’ve lost momentum and back in the proverbial molasses trying to paddle my way out. Before this week’s up I’m going to have all the invasive, dead or out and out tree stumps removed from my yard to make way for some changes and brand new additions to the yards. I want to do a small kitchen garden next year and I need bare and fallow ground for that! I tore out weeds this year as tall as myself all over my property and I’m still bagging them! This is no joke. Last May all my free ground was bare except for soil and it is once again but I’m going to have to figure out a way to protect whatever I plant. Those flower bed carpets don’t work, by the way. Just a warning! 

      Survival of this summer has entailed trying to figure out how to get a bunch of reading done so that I can get on with my castle writing. I feel stalled when, as a matter of fact, I’m really just trying to fit too much into a day and that never works, you know. There are only so many hours in a day and reading used to be the bulk of it. Now I have to try to read and peruse books like Windsor Castle: A Thousand Years of a Royal Palace  (which is 526 pages of text, diagrams, photos and paintings the castle contains along with magnificent trifold page maps of the upper and lower wards) in a matter of days with one hour left per day to actually sit down with it. All I can say is that hour is golden and wouldn’t give it up for anything. Finally, a book that does justice to a Norman castle!    

      I think I’ll hire someone to pick those grapes. How does a dollar per pound picked sound? Like Peter Piper picked a peck of grapes? I thought so.

The Castle Lady

Fall Leaves...

Fall, leaves, fall

by Emily Bronte

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;

Lengthen night and shorten day;

Every leaf speaks bliss to me

Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow

Blossom where the rose should grow;

I shall sing when night’s decay

Ushers in a drearier day.

Love it!

The Castle Lady