Like that orange cat Garfield, most people with traditional “9 to 5” jobs don’t love Mondays.
(I put that in quotes because how many people actually work those exact hours anymore?)
But, the Monday back at work after being on vacation, I think that’s the worst. By the end of vacation you finally feel relaxed and then all of a sudden – it’s Monday again. It’s kind of hard to adjust. (And I love my day job. I can’t imagine what it’s like for people who don’t.)
Still, that’s exactly what this Monday is for me. It’s the Monday after coming back from a vacation we dubbed Traveling with The Travelers (Spring Break Edition), which has turned my blog into something of a travel blog meets books/writing blog over the last week.
Mourning Vacation Goals
My goals during vacation were to read, read, read and write, write, write. I accomplished 50% of those goals – lots of writing, not a lot of reading.
I decided instead to spend some time with my family and try to focus on them for a week and I’m glad I did it. I also spent a lot of time taking pictures, particularly of the beautiful gardens and foliage on the East Coast of the US. Turns out Williamsburg, VA, is particularly colorful in more ways than one.
So to brighten up my Monday, and hopefully someone else’s…
…here are my favorite Spring pictures accompanied by a poem, since it’s National Poetry Month, by St. George Tucker of Williamsburg, VA. His house is part of the Colonial Williamsburg experience and the man himself is acted out by interpreters (eg, actors who interpret history).
Tucker was a lawyer, trader, inventor, scholar, professor, judge, essayist, poet, gardener, stargazer – St. George Tucker was what the 18th century called “a man of parts.” Perhaps what we’d call a Renaissance man?
This poem is about the Palace Green, which is captured in many of these pictures. The writing is a little old-fashioned and, to me, seems a little trite (written in the early 1800s). But, it’s language and description gives a view into the Colonial American history and unites our vacation experience under the umbrella of poetry.
The poem is called:
Lines, Supposed to Have Been Found Upon the Palace Green at Williamsburg On May Day, 1816
O! what a pleasure’s in the town,
To the world, how little known!
Pleasures, which there is no telling:
Pleasures, which there is no knowing!
When the belles are off, a-beau-ing,
And the beaus are off a-belle-ing.
O! the sweet, bewitching scene,
Palace grounds, or college green,
When the beaus, and belles, assembling;
Beaus, their secret thoughts confiding;
Belles, their smiles, and blushes hiding,
Frowns, and careless looks dissembling.
O! the dear enchanting sight,
When at parties, just at night,
Beaus, and belles, in pairs advancing;
Beaus their willing partners handing,
Beaus and belles on tiptoe standing,
Music striking, all a-dancing!
O! how charming in the church!
Beaus and belles in gallery perch;
As to hear a reverend preacher:
Beaus and belles their eyes a-keeping
Beaus through veils, and fans, a-peeping;
Little love the only teacher!
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