Arriving home from Arizona last night, it was only natural for me to plug in the lights of the Studio, check the mail, and reflect on the week.
Spending a week in Arizona I thought so often of those who came before...their hardships, the heat, and the mountains. I have not had the pleasure of exploring the mountain ranges around Queen Creek, that will come another time, but I was able to watch the sun rise and set each morning and night over those mountains.
Upon tidying up the Studio, I perused the book shelf and pulled down my book, "Women's Diaries of the Westward Journey" written and compiled by Lillian Schlissel. The book is fascinating and without watching the time, I spent most of my first morning home reading the book, again.
So, my poetry passage comes from one of the diaries. Whereas this is not our typical poetry day, I find her words to be of great poetic thoughts.
This is from the diary of Catherine Haun who crossed the Plains in 1849. Her diary was dictated to her daughter later in her life, so it is a bit of a memoir, thus showing her romance of the journey.
Do not all Journeys leave a romantic mist which surrounds our stories?
"It was the fourth of July. After dinner it was proposed that we celebrate the day and we all heartily join(ed) in. America West was the Goddess of Liberty, Charles Wheeler was orator and Ralph Cushing acted as Master of ceremonies. We sang patriotic songs, repeated what little we could of the Declaration of Independence, fired off a gun or two, and gave three cheers for the United States. We sang 'Home Sweet Home,' 'My Old Kentucky Home,' and 'The Girl I Left Behind.' The strains of these ballads went straight to America West's heart."
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