Art by Hart

Brumbaugh was happy that he'd gone to Petco for his hair growth lotion

Les and Julia loved each other deeply, but moving in together was out of the question

You didn't want to get in Bertram's way when he was late for work

Lester was being interviewed for his first post-grad pet therapy job

After a long and grueling Iditarod, Mary Elizabeth wanted only to ski

Art and Photographs by Jane Hart

Art by Hart

There had long been rumors of shenanigans in the back of Thornton's barber shop

It was a vexing Friday: Brendan lost his big-money arm-wrestling match and the twins forgot where they'd buried the amethysts

Family photo shoots made little Devon nervous

Professor Blaffer-Knott's listening course was always fully booked

Leda and the swan fell asleep and spent all night in the Sauna

Art and Photographs by Jane Hart

January 25, 2023: Kendal on Hudson's First Robert Burns Night Celebration

All the Basics for a Robert Burns Night Celebration: Robert Burns and Scottish Shortbread

Proper Attire Was Worn by Thems What Got ‘Em

Musicians Are Part of the Evening, too

And So the Evening Begins with a Welcome from the Organizing Base: The Education Committee

♼

A Moment of Grace to Start Us Out

The Selkirk Grace

Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it,

But we hae meat and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be Thankit!

♼

A Well-Beloved Burns Love Poem

A Red, Red Rose

(1794)

O my Luve is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

That’s sweetly played in tune.

 

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

 

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

I will love thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

 

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile.

♼

Some Burns Philosophy with His Poetry: A Man’s a Man for A’ That

To A Mouse

(1786)

 

On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785.

Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,

O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!

Thou need na start awa sae hasty,

Wi’ bickerin brattle!

I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee

Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

 

I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion

Has broken Nature’s social union,

An’ justifies that ill opinion,

Which makes thee startle,

At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,

An’ fellow-mortal!

 

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;

What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!

A daimen-icker in a thrave

’S a sma’ request:

I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,

An’ never miss ’t!

 

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!

It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!

An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,

O’ foggage green!

An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,

Baith snell an’ keen!

 

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,

An’ weary Winter comin fast,

An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,

Thou thought to dwell,

Till crash! the cruel coulter past

Out thro’ thy cell.

 

That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble

Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!

Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,

But house or hald,

To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,

An’ cranreuch cauld!

 

But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,

In proving foresight may be vain:

The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

Gang aft agley,

An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,

For promis’d joy!

 

Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!

The present only toucheth thee:

But Och! I backward cast my e’e,

On prospects drear!

An’ forward tho’ I canna see,

I guess an’ fear!

♼

Winter: A Dirge (and very apt a few weeks later)

Winter: A Dirge

(1781)

The wintry west extends his blast,

And hail and rain does blaw;

Or, the stormy north sends driving forth

The blinding sleet and snaw:

While tumbling brown, the burn comes down,

And roars frae bank to brae;

And bird and beast in covert rest,

And pass the heartless day.

 

The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,

The joyless winter-day,

Let others fear, to me more dear

Than all the pride of May:

The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul,

My griefs it seems to join;

The leafless trees my fancy please,

Their fate resembles mine!

 

Thou Pow’r Supreme, whose mighty scheme

These woes of mine fulfil,

Here, firm, I rest, they must be best,

Because they are Thy will!

Then all I want (O, do Thou grant

This one request of mine!)

Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,

Assist me to resign.

♼

A Final Song: Auld Lang Syne—All of It—and All Joined In

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
     For auld lang syne.
     We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
     For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

Chorus

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
Sin’ auld lang syne.

Chorus

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.

Chorus

And there’s a hand, my trusty fere!
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught,
For auld lang syne.

Chorus

♼

All Capped Off with “A Parting Grace”

A Parting Grace

O Thou, in whom we live and move,
Who made the sea and shore,
Thou goodness constantly we prove,
And, grateful, would adore.

And, if it please Thee, Power above!
Still grant us with such store
The friend we trust, the fair we love,
And we desire no more.

♼

The Evening’s Image: the Highland Cow, Created by Jane Hart, a Bit of Serendipity—Jane Didn’t Know Burns’ Had a Particular Affection for “A Highland Coo”

Photographs by Art Brady. Poetry/Song by Robert Burns.

Art by Hart

With windchill a zillion degrees below zero, the Mortensons were warm and cozy in their tiny home

The male mermaids were a very rough bunch

Endicott took pride in his diverse heritage

Lauren was more than happy with her plant-based rejuvenating cream

Once again, Dr. Wipper had overbooked his 9:42 appointment slot

Art and photographs contributed by Jane Hart

For Your Funny Bone

"Getting older. I used to be able to run a 4-minute mile, bench press 380 pounds, and tell the truth." - Conan O'Brien

"Grandchildren don't make a man feel old, it's the knowledge that he's married to a grandmother that does." - J. Norman Collie

"You know you are getting old when everything hurts, and what doesn't hurt doesn't work." - Hy Gardner

"When your friends begin to flatter you on how young you look, it's a sure sign you're getting old." - Mark Twain

"You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks." - Joel Plaskett

"There's one advantage to being 102, there's no peer pressure." - Dennis Wolfberg

"At my age 'getting lucky' means walking into a room and remembering what I came in for." – George Burns

"Old age is when you resent the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated because there are fewer articles to read." –George Burns

"You know you're getting old when you stoop to tie your shoelaces and wonder what else you could do while you're down there." - George Burns

"People ask me what I'd most appreciate getting for my eighty-seventh birthday. I tell them, a paternity suit." - George Burns

"When I turned 75, I started telling people I was 85 just so they would tell me how great I look for my age." – Anonymous

Save the trees, or . . .

© Kendal on Hudson Residents Association 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022 all rights reserved.  Please do not reproduce without permission.

Photographs of life at Kendal on Hudson are by residents.