Countdown

It is noon here and we are heading to the airport in a few hours to begin our journey to England. Flight leaves here at 7:33 and we get into Heathrow at 7:15 EDT, 12:15 their time.

Here is a webcam view of Trafalgar Square right now. Overcast and everyone is wearing a coat.  Looks like London.  You can find this webcam along with many others at Earthcam. A great site. 
This time tomorrow.... WE'LL be in this webcam.....waving.
I'll start posting photos tomorrow evening, hopefully




Another item unrelated to London.  Garrison Keillor recited a lovely poem by Marjorie Kowalski Cole yesterday on The Writer's Almanac titled Pushkin from her book Inside, Outside, Morningside.  The poem is lovely, evocative, spare but deeply emotional. 


Pushkin
The old cat sleeps
in the newly arrived sun. One more spring
has come his way
dropping a solar bath
on failing kidneys, old cat bones.
I check for the rise and fall of breath.

Once he stalked hares
across the yard, tracked down
chicken hearts with split-lentil eyes.
Fearless, disinterested, a poseur, a demideity.
He and the dog are strangers still
after years of eating side by side.

I remember times of wailing
into my couch, alone
and utterly baffled by life,
when suddenly a cat
would be sitting on my head.

Last week I pulled him snarling
from under a chair in Dr. Bacon's office,
held him while she examined his dull coat,
felt his ribs. Pressed where it hurt.
Eight pounds of fur and bone and mad as hell
but "He's certainly less anxious in your lap,"
she murmured, astonishing me.
I had no idea. Old cat, old friend,
have I reached some place inside,
added to your life
as you have to mine?