Ode to Phyllis: Happy are they who live and die enjoying what they love
And here the precious dust is layd;
Whose purely temper’d Clay was made
So fine, that it the guest betray’d.Else the soule grew so fast within,
It broke the outward shell of sinne,
And so was hatch’d a Cherubin.~Thomas Carew
Many of you may know that I recently moved, but maybe not that I’m living in the same neighborhood or that I’ve been here for the last 12 years. I’d gotten to know a few of my neighbors who were more settled than the mostly transient population of our village. Of those I knew by name, I’ve admired Phyllis a great deal.
Phyllis had created a fairy kingdom of a home, a loving project that spanned a half century or so. Her cottage looks like something from the English countryside. She tended a rare and unique moss in her yard. Her graceful trees sheltered choruses of birds making nests and heralding the passing hours, night and day. Her roof was thatch shingled, and I often swore I’d just seen Read More
