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,