Pic of the Day

A Late Start to Friday

I got to sleep late this morning—or at least what counts as sleeping late for me. I fed Isabella and went back to bed, and somehow managed to sleep until 5:30. I almost never get to sleep that late, and I probably could have slept even longer if Isabella hadn’t decided enough was enough. She has her schedule, after all, and apparently me sleeping late is not part of it. Eventually, I gave in to her persistence and got out of bed.

The only reason I could allow myself the luxury of going back to sleep in the first place is that I’m going into work late this morning. Before heading to the museum, I have to stop by my doctor’s office to have blood drawn for some routine tests. Unfortunately, that means I’m fasting, so I’m really missing my morning cup of coffee. Water just doesn’t quite have the same effect first thing in the morning.

Once I finally get to work, I’ll probably make myself a cup of tea and have a late breakfast. By then, I suspect I’ll be more than ready for both.

At least it’s Friday, and I’m definitely looking forward to the weekend. The weather is supposed to be beautiful, with sunny days that should make the fall colors look even more spectacular. This is one of the most beautiful times of year in Vermont, when the mountains and hillsides turn brilliant shades of red, orange, and gold.

After a busy few weeks, a quiet weekend with some sunshine and beautiful fall scenery sounds pretty wonderful to me. I hope everyone has a great Friday and an equally wonderful weekend!

Pic of the Day

At Least It’s Thursday

I know I’m being a little boring this week, but honestly, it’s just been one of those uneventful weeks. There hasn’t been much going on outside of the usual routine of work, home, sleep, and doing it all over again the next day. Sometimes, though, an uneventful week isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

At least it’s Thursday, which means the weekend is finally within sight. I don’t have any plans, and for once, I’m perfectly happy about that. After the past few weeks being fairly busy, a weekend with nowhere I have to be and nothing I have to do sounds pretty wonderful.

I’m looking forward to sleeping in a little, relaxing at home, and simply taking the weekend as it comes. Maybe I’ll find something productive to do, or maybe I won’t. Sometimes rest and relaxation are productive enough.

Just one more day to get through after today. I think I can manage that.

Happy Thursday, everyone!

Pic of the Day

Some Approximation of Awake

I stayed home yesterday with a migraine, and unfortunately, it’s still not completely gone this morning. I’m feeling better than I did yesterday, but I’m definitely not back to 100 percent. If I didn’t have so much to do, I could very easily convince myself to stay home again today.

Unfortunately, I have several upcoming classes to prepare for, and there’s only so much I can put off before the work starts piling up. Sometimes, even when you know another day of rest would probably do you good, responsibilities have other ideas. So, unless this migraine decides to take a turn for the worse, I’ll be heading into work and doing my best to get through everything that needs to be done.

At least Isabella was kind enough to let me sleep in a little this morning. I’m not sure whether that was an act of feline generosity or simply an oversight on her part, but I’ll take it. Now I’m awake—or at least some approximation of awake—with a cup of coffee in hand, trying to convince myself that I’m ready to face the day.

Hopefully, the coffee will work its magic, the lingering migraine will continue to fade, and I can have a productive day without overdoing it. Right now, though, I’d much rather crawl back into bed.

But the day awaits, so I suppose it’s time to get moving.

Pic of the Day

A Meeting

A Meeting 

By Edith Wharton

On a sheer peak of joy we meet;
Below us hums the abyss;
Death either way allures our feet
If we take one step amiss.

One moment let us drink the blue
Transcendent air together—
Then down where the same old work’s to do
In the same dull daily weather.

We may not wait . . . yet look below!
How part? On this keen ridge
But one may pass. They call you—go!
My life shall be your bridge.

About the Poem

There are encounters in our lives that seem to exist outside ordinary time. For a few hours, a few days, or perhaps only a few moments, another person makes the rest of the world seem very far away. Edith Wharton captures that feeling beautifully in “A Meeting.” Two people have found themselves together on what she calls a “sheer peak of joy,” suspended above everything ordinary and mundane.

But they cannot remain there.

The imagery Wharton uses makes their happiness feel exhilarating and dangerous at the same time. They stand high above an abyss, knowing that one wrong step could destroy everything. Yet for one moment, they can simply “drink the blue / Transcendent air together.” There is something almost intoxicating about those lines. Whatever circumstances surround these two people, their brief time together allows them to experience something beyond their everyday existence.

Then reality intrudes.

They must return to “the same old work” and “the same dull daily weather.” I think that contrast is something most of us can understand. Life is made up largely of ordinary days—work, chores, responsibilities, appointments, errands, and routines. Yet occasionally someone enters our lives who makes everything feel different. The world seems brighter. The ordinary becomes extraordinary simply because we are sharing it with someone who matters to us.

Sometimes those people remain with us. Sometimes they cannot.

Wharton never tells us exactly who these two people are or why they must part. That ambiguity gives the poem much of its power. We can imagine lovers separated by circumstances, two people whose relationship is forbidden or impossible, or even two souls who have simply reached a place where their paths can no longer continue together. Whatever the reason, they have reached a narrow ridge where “but one may pass.”

And then comes that extraordinary final line:

“My life shall be your bridge.”

For me, that is where the poem becomes something more than a poem about separation. It becomes a poem about love and sacrifice.

The speaker does not say, If I cannot have you, neither of us will go forward. Nor does the speaker demand that the other person remain behind. Instead, the response is essentially: Go. If only one of us can continue, I will help you get there.

There is something profoundly loving about that idea.

We often think of love as holding on. Sometimes love is exactly that—fighting to remain together when circumstances try to pull us apart. But love can also mean wanting another person to flourish even when we cannot accompany them. It can mean recognizing that someone we love has a road ahead of them that we cannot travel beside them.

That does not make the love meaningless.

If anything, the final line suggests that love can continue to shape another person’s life even after two people have parted. We become part of the bridge that carried them from one place in their life to another. They become part of ours as well.

For LGBTQ+ people, that idea can have particular resonance. Many of us have known relationships, friendships, or moments of intimacy shaped by circumstances beyond our control. Sometimes fear, distance, family expectations, religion, society, or simply the timing of our lives has made something precious difficult or impossible to sustain. Earlier generations of LGBTQ+ people faced even greater barriers to openly building lives together. Yet the love itself was no less real because circumstances forced it into brief or hidden moments.

Perhaps that is why the unnamed lovers of Wharton’s poem can feel so universal. We do not know who they are. We do not know what stands between them. We only know that for one transcendent moment they have found one another.

And sometimes one moment can change a life.

Not every love is forever. Not every person who changes us is meant to walk beside us for the rest of our lives. Some people meet us only briefly on the mountaintop. We breathe that rare air together, and eventually we return to the ordinary world below.

But we do not return unchanged.

Some people become part of the bridge that carries us forward.

“A Meeting” appeared in Edith Wharton’s Artemis to Actaeon and Other Verse, published by Charles Scribner’s Sons in 1909. Although Wharton is remembered primarily as a novelist and short-story writer, she also wrote poetry throughout her literary career.

The poem consists of three four-line stanzas and moves almost like a miniature drama. The first stanza establishes the precarious meeting on the mountaintop; the second allows the pair a fleeting moment of transcendence before returning to ordinary life; and the third confronts the inevitable separation.

Wharton’s landscape is both physical and metaphorical. The peak represents the extraordinary height of the meeting, while the abyss suggests danger, loss, and perhaps death. Against that dramatic landscape, the “same old work” and “same dull daily weather” represent ordinary existence. The poem therefore balances transcendence against routine, joy against loss, and love against separation.

Its final image—the speaker offering their own life as a bridge—is the culmination of those contrasts. Separation becomes sacrifice, and the impossibility of continuing together becomes an opportunity for one person to help the other continue onward.

About the Poet

Edith Wharton was born Edith Newbold Jones in New York City on January 24, 1862, into a wealthy family belonging to the upper levels of New York society. Although women of her social position were generally expected to concentrate on marriage and society rather than intellectual or artistic achievement, Wharton developed into one of the most important American writers of her generation. 

Wharton wrote prolifically across numerous genres, including novels, short stories, poetry, travel writing, and works on architecture, gardens, and interior design. Among her best-known works are The House of Mirth (1905), Ethan Frome (1911), and The Age of Innocence (1920). Her fiction frequently examines the conflict between individual desire and the social conventions that restrict it—a tension that can also be felt strongly in “A Meeting.” 

In 1921, The Age of Innocence received the Pulitzer Prize for the Novel, making Wharton the first woman to receive that award. The novel portrays the tightly controlled world of upper-class New York society in the 1870s and the conflict between personal desire and social expectation.

Wharton spent much of her later life in France. During World War I, she devoted considerable effort to humanitarian work, establishing aid programs for refugees and others affected by the war; France awarded her the Legion of Honor in 1916 for her wartime work. She continued writing and traveling until her death in France on August 11, 1937, at the age of seventy-five.

Although her novels remain her most famous works, poems such as “A Meeting” reveal Wharton’s ability to compress themes that occupied her throughout her career—love, longing, social constraint, sacrifice, and the painful distance between what the heart desires and what circumstances allow—into just a handful of lines.

Pic of the Day

Monday Already?

It’s Monday again, and this weekend seemed especially short. Since I had to work on Saturday, my weekend really only consisted of yesterday. One day just isn’t enough time to fully settle into weekend mode before the alarm is reminding you that it’s time to start another workweek.

I wish I could say I had something interesting or profound to write about this morning, but I really don’t. Mostly, I’m sitting here wishing I could crawl back into bed instead of getting up, taking a shower, getting dressed, and heading off to work. Some Monday mornings are easier than others, and this definitely isn’t one of them.

Yesterday went by far too quickly, and I could certainly use another day to relax and recharge. Unfortunately, Monday doesn’t particularly care whether we’re ready for it or not. The new week is here, and I suppose the only thing to do is get moving and hope that once I’m showered, dressed, and at work, I’ll feel a little more enthusiastic about it.

For now, though, that bed is looking awfully inviting.

I hope everyone has a great week!

If he was in my bed, there’d be no question. I’d be back in bed.