THE APPLE OF MY EYE

The apple as metaphor will do
until something better comes along
which isn’t likely to happen soon,
at least not this year...

RULES ARE TO BE BROKEN. I've been doing the picture-a-day since January 1, 1987. Today is the first time I've used somebody else's picture. I take a small bit of credit because I edited the raw version. Son David took the picture of the cousins, our Michael and Dael. I couldn't have improved on it I had been there with my camera.

Dael, Brynn, and Lee... with our Susanne, visiting from Holland.

Except for the human animals, a zoo visit requires no captions or explanations. My trip to the zoo today was especially good because I enjoyed a reunion with people I admire and love who are all in the educations business. Alan and Victoria Thomas are visiting from Anchorage with their children Kai and Nikko. Stefan and Vickie Bower live in San Diego with Ellie and Karson. Don Wood lives here, too. After I retired from my old independent school career, I taught with Don, Alan, and Stefan at Gompers Secondary School.

REMEMBER WILLIAM BLAKE from your English literature course? Today I took photographs of Margaret’s little tiger, just three inches long from the tip of nose to tip of tail; and as I edited the images, Blake’s poem, “The Tiger,” (and Mrs. Honora Laney, my high school English teacher) came to mind. Blake was a religious man... a poet, painter, and printmaker who was disenchanted with the Church of England.

The Tyger
by William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire in thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art?
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand, and what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb, make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Below: My Niece Braithe Landry's tiger...

NONE OF THE MANY VERSIONS OF "THE GINGERBREAD MAN" STORY END WELL. Always the gingerbread man gets eaten by the fox. Perhaps someone out there who reads this BLOG can tell me why the story is a good one for young children. The moral of the story has something to do with not trusting foxes when they offer to take you across a river; but I keep remembering that if the Gingerbread Man hadn’t run away in the first place, the old woman and the old man would have eaten him. Either way the Gingerbread Man get gobbled up.

This wonderful gingerbread man made by Clyde Yoshida has been in our house for half a week, and he hasn’t been eaten yet. He may be too good to eat. We’re thinking about it. Thanks, Clyde, for the delicious dilemma. These photographs have nothing to do with the Gingerbread Man, but I couldn't resist posting them. The little Asian eggplant pairs beautifully with the red chilies.