Tagged emerson

“Blurtso takes his friends to Walden” (I)

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What are you doing with so many pumpkins? said Blurtso. We’re swapping them, said Pablo, for food and supplies… the cellar is already full. Is Harlan coming tonight? Yes, said Blurtso, he and Alexandra are taking the train. Good, said Pablo. I hope they like pumpkin pie.

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What a lovely cabin, said Alex. Yes, said Harlan, it’s very sturdy. I’m glad you like it, said Pablo, Bonny and I are happy you could come. How long have you lived here? said Alex. Seven months, said Bonny. Do you miss the city? said Alex. Boston? said Bonny. No, not really. Concord has all we need. Like what? said Alex. Like paints and canvass, said Bonny. We produce everything else. What do you do for entertainment? said Alex. We sing, said Bonny, or read, or tell stories around the fire. That sounds great, said Harlan. Can we hear a story tonight? Of course, said Bonny, Pablo knows some really scary ones. Scary? said Harlan. Yes, said Bonny, but not too scary… Ditto gets nightmares.

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Once upon a time, not long ago, there was a donkey, a giraffe, an elephant, and an insane woodsman.

“Morton’s Pond” (XXI)

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“Tastes” – The grass didn’t taste as sweet this morning. I think it is because of last night’s pie. I suppose flavors eat each other like one sound eats another. I wonder if a donkey doesn’t taste as good to a deer tick after a deer tick has tasted a deer?

“Morton’s Pond” (XIX)

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“Sounds” –  Another day with Pablo. Listening to him talk to me and listening to me talk to him. I could also hear Bonny and Ditto by the lake. I think they were painting because I could smell the paint. There were large patches of silence between the words they were saying. Or maybe the patches of silence were when I was listening to Pablo or myself talk.

“Morton’s Pond” (XVI)

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“Sounds” –  My breath. Panting as I propped up the walls of my shelter. I didn’t even hear the train to Concord because I was so focused on building. You can only hear what you happen to be listening to, or else the sound of building ate up the sound of the train.

“Morton’s Pond” (XII)

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“Sounds”: Rainfall. Cloudburst. I suppose the cloud got so full with all the things it sucked up, it had to spit them out—the sounds, the colors, the smells. The raindrops gathered together when they hit the ground and began to run around making noises and spreading flashes of color. They ran down my nose and flanks and haunches and tail, and found the holes in my shelter I could only hear before. Rain makes it easy to see holes, and it makes silent things reveal their sound. Like the stone outside my shelter that never made a sound until the rain came and all the nooks and crannies sang.

“Morton’s Pond” (X)

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“Sights” – Clouds. Lots of clouds. Then one big cloud. A cloud that covered the whole lake and maybe even the world. Everything was whitish grey. It erased the shadows of the leaves and trees. I suppose it sucked them into itself which is why the cloud was dark in spots. It also sucked up sounds. The train wasn’t as noisy, and the birds sang a lower pitch.

“Morton’s Pond” (IX)

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“Tastes” –  The grass that grows around last year’s leaves. The flowers. Today I ate a white flower that tasted like the yellow one I ate yesterday. Sometimes different flowers taste the same and sometimes they don’t. Sight and taste are not always connected.