The rocking chair

The day has ended Our house is dark As I lie in bed the silence is broken only by the sound of a rocking chair In that old rickety chair you sit holding Nathan tight That same chair where my mother rocked me Quieting tears in the night That peaceful rhythm back and forth back and forth over the hardwood floor Our little son was not the only one you rocked to sleep last night Louis Copt May 13, 1976 I lie in
The day has ended
our house is dark
as I lie in bed
the silence is broken
only by the sound
of a rocking chair
In that old rickety
chair you sit
holding Nathan tight
That same chair
where my mother rocked me
quieting tears in the night
That peaceful rhythm
back and forth
back and forth
over the hardwood floor
Our little son
was not the only one
you rocked to sleep
last night
Louis Copt
May 13, 1976

 

 

 

Cafe corretto, anyone?

All of our relatives in France, Wales, and Switzerland give names to their houses. In imitation of this fine European tradition, we decided to name our house. When we built our house, we installed a wood-fired pizza oven. Its name is piccolo, so our house is Casa Piccolo. From the seeds, skins and stems of our neighbor, Larry's deChaunac grapes, Louie made grappa. When in Italy add a shot of grappa to your morning coffee, and you have cafe corretto.

Lois’ House

I'm so happy for my sister, Lois, who moved into this wonderful house in Avoca, Iowa just 6 months ago. The photographer, that'd be me, is standing lopsided. The house really sits level. We celebrated on that great front porch.