visual artist

Happy Groundhog's Day!

Added on by Ellen Halloran.

Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow this morning and thus predicted six more weeks of winter.  The picture below (courtesy of Wikipedia) is of another groundhog (also called a 'whistle-pig' or a 'woodchuck') in warmer weather.

IN 1921 Robert Frost published his poem "A Drumlin Woodchuck."   A DRUMLIN WOODCHUCK One thing has a shelving bank, Another a rotting plank, To give it cosier skies And make up for its lack of size.   My own strategic retreat Is where two rocks almost meet, And still more secure and snug, A two-door burrow I dug.   With those in mind at my back I can sit forth exposed to attack As one who shrewdly pretends That he and the world are friends.   All we who prefer to live, Have a little whistle to give, And flash,at the least alarm We dive down under the farm.   We allow some time for guile And don't come out for a while Either to eat or drink We take occasion to think.   And if after the hunt goes past And the double-barreled blast (Like war and pestilence And the loss of common sense),   If I can with confidence say That still for another day, Or even another year, I will be there for you, my dear,   It will be because though small As measured against All, I have been so instinctively thorough About my crevice and burrow.   Robert Frost  1874  -  1963,  

IN 1921 Robert Frost published his poem "A Drumlin Woodchuck."

 

A DRUMLIN WOODCHUCK

One thing has a shelving bank,

Another a rotting plank,

To give it cosier skies

And make up for its lack of size.

 

My own strategic retreat

Is where two rocks almost meet,

And still more secure and snug,

A two-door burrow I dug.

 

With those in mind at my back

I can sit forth exposed to attack

As one who shrewdly pretends

That he and the world are friends.

 

All we who prefer to live,

Have a little whistle to give,

And flash,at the least alarm

We dive down under the farm.

 

We allow some time for guile

And don't come out for a while

Either to eat or drink

We take occasion to think.

 

And if after the hunt goes past

And the double-barreled blast

(Like war and pestilence

And the loss of common sense),

 

If I can with confidence say

That still for another day,

Or even another year,

I will be there for you, my dear,

 

It will be because though small

As measured against All,

I have been so instinctively thorough

About my crevice and burrow.

 

Robert Frost  1874  -  1963,