Prepared for her Interior Design class at Washington University, St. Louis, MO
Circa 1950
Friday, March 19, 2010
Interior Design 84
Original art by Alice Nelson McCoy
Prepared for her Interior Design class at Washington University, St. Louis, MO
Circa 1950
Prepared for her Interior Design class at Washington University, St. Louis, MO
Circa 1950
Saturday, March 13, 2010
3-21-49 Alice Nelson - Like a Flower
like a flower that you've seen - implanted in dry parched earth - by looking at it you can almost see it yearning, longing, devising, stretching, & straining for moisture - for the drops of the warm spring rain or for the simplest gentle morning dew - you can see it begging for the moisture that it knows it must have, that it should have, that it was meant to have - just so do I need & yearn for love - the warmth of a hand-clasp - the heaviness, softness of a kiss - the strength which comes from desiring fulfilling desire -----
the invulnerability which comes from being wanted & needed -----
my love has been like a flower whose desire to live - to continue to bloom under a warm sunlight & gentle moonlight - to absorb endlessly the life-giving caressing rain - to share its substance with the honeybee so as to be part in substance of each other blossom on God's earth - whose desire for these things has not allowed it to surrender - kept it from surrendering to the merciless heat of midsummer's day, to the cruel, crushing, beat of torrential rains, to the creeping bite of sudden frost - whose desire has given it the strength to spring back full of hope & faith for more sunrays, more moisture, more of the same -----
over & over this happens - each time the flower seemingly asks for more - refusing to give up to the forces until one day .......... the first signs appear - a little less, fervent desire for the sun's heat - caring not quite so much if its petals sparkle or not - & so at last it wills complete surrender only when it feels the tug on its root-strings, the tapping of its stem-stream of life-giving materials, indicating the birth of a new bud bursting forth, eager for the wonder of a new search for life, for love - beginning the cycle of desiring & fulfilling all over again.
the invulnerability which comes from being wanted & needed -----
my love has been like a flower whose desire to live - to continue to bloom under a warm sunlight & gentle moonlight - to absorb endlessly the life-giving caressing rain - to share its substance with the honeybee so as to be part in substance of each other blossom on God's earth - whose desire for these things has not allowed it to surrender - kept it from surrendering to the merciless heat of midsummer's day, to the cruel, crushing, beat of torrential rains, to the creeping bite of sudden frost - whose desire has given it the strength to spring back full of hope & faith for more sunrays, more moisture, more of the same -----
over & over this happens - each time the flower seemingly asks for more - refusing to give up to the forces until one day .......... the first signs appear - a little less, fervent desire for the sun's heat - caring not quite so much if its petals sparkle or not - & so at last it wills complete surrender only when it feels the tug on its root-strings, the tapping of its stem-stream of life-giving materials, indicating the birth of a new bud bursting forth, eager for the wonder of a new search for life, for love - beginning the cycle of desiring & fulfilling all over again.
3-21-49 Alice Nelson - Random
scuddling purple clouds - heavy & ponderous - poisonous looking.
the rain water trickled along the center of the alley - the rough bricks beneath made the water cris-cross as it ambled slowly - like a woven band - carefree casually rolling around obstacles - small piles of wet decaying leaves - tattered scraps of cloth, black & spotted with dirt & time.
soaked milk pods - swollen with rain - spongy but empty - felt each in among the wet, tangled vines - found one yet bursting with & bearing its tightly packed seedlings (?) - put it in pocket to save till a warm sunlit dry day when the light, winged fluffs would be free to drift & float on invisible breezes -----
black, coarse, soaked, rough, loose bark of the common sycamores - all the stronger more solid & more determined for their wetness - one among them spotted with colors like purposefully camoflaged - like a lovely water color - each muted, earth tone, melting into the next - all golds, browns, ambers, russets - dappled -----
the dittering & rattling of several abandoned leaves still clinging (desperately) (indifferently) to their ------- suited high up above the rain gutters ----- my mood - alone & forgotten by the wind & earth & all -----
"rain puddle-mirror"
glistening streets
the banded sky
the naked, sweet briar bushes - each black soaked twig & branchlet strung with rain drops - gracefully posed - each impatient for a lover breeze to give it gentle encouragement to take independent flight - in brief ecstasy before joining its infinite kin deep in the spongy - saturated - rejuvenated earth ----- against the pearl grey twilight clouds, each black twig was like a fine strand of jet set with priceless diamonds & emeralds -----
emeralds = embryonic leaves - budding so boisterously - so defenseless yet so unafraid & so infinitely sweet & tender ----- each a translucent glowing young green - exhuding & inspiring eternal hope & harmony -----
have you ever looked deeply & long into a rain puddle-mirroring a stout sycamore - making it appear ever so much more powerful & ----- wind-swayed limbs create a dizzying effect - appears to be devil-like - reaching downward - growing away from heaven - each black branch like a horny hand clawing & grasping -----
the rain water trickled along the center of the alley - the rough bricks beneath made the water cris-cross as it ambled slowly - like a woven band - carefree casually rolling around obstacles - small piles of wet decaying leaves - tattered scraps of cloth, black & spotted with dirt & time.
soaked milk pods - swollen with rain - spongy but empty - felt each in among the wet, tangled vines - found one yet bursting with & bearing its tightly packed seedlings (?) - put it in pocket to save till a warm sunlit dry day when the light, winged fluffs would be free to drift & float on invisible breezes -----
black, coarse, soaked, rough, loose bark of the common sycamores - all the stronger more solid & more determined for their wetness - one among them spotted with colors like purposefully camoflaged - like a lovely water color - each muted, earth tone, melting into the next - all golds, browns, ambers, russets - dappled -----
the dittering & rattling of several abandoned leaves still clinging (desperately) (indifferently) to their ------- suited high up above the rain gutters ----- my mood - alone & forgotten by the wind & earth & all -----
"rain puddle-mirror"
glistening streets
the banded sky
the naked, sweet briar bushes - each black soaked twig & branchlet strung with rain drops - gracefully posed - each impatient for a lover breeze to give it gentle encouragement to take independent flight - in brief ecstasy before joining its infinite kin deep in the spongy - saturated - rejuvenated earth ----- against the pearl grey twilight clouds, each black twig was like a fine strand of jet set with priceless diamonds & emeralds -----
emeralds = embryonic leaves - budding so boisterously - so defenseless yet so unafraid & so infinitely sweet & tender ----- each a translucent glowing young green - exhuding & inspiring eternal hope & harmony -----
have you ever looked deeply & long into a rain puddle-mirroring a stout sycamore - making it appear ever so much more powerful & ----- wind-swayed limbs create a dizzying effect - appears to be devil-like - reaching downward - growing away from heaven - each black branch like a horny hand clawing & grasping -----
March 14, 1949 Alice Nelson - Etc.
----- My love has thrived because it was planted, it took root, & it blossomed under his care, his warmth & his love - it had become sturdy and strong when neglect & disinterest became its fate - too sturdy & too strong to allow itself to be killed by this frost, this change of manner - like a zinnia or a hardy weed it continues to grow - perhaps not to grow, but to simply exist - waiting, yearning, hungry for the return of spring like some dormant or hibernating thing having a great will to live on, in spite of present discomfort - however, if this is to be an eternal winter, my love will forever preserve its present state until perhaps another spring, another kiss shall reawaken it to its hidden lustre & lushness -----
Etc.
----- the one great defect in the mechanism of man is his absolute inability to control the strength and determine the destination of his heart waves -----
Etc.
----- I hate myself for continuing to love so wholeheartedly someone who cares so very little for me - where's my pride - where's my ambition -----
Etc.
Etc.
----- the one great defect in the mechanism of man is his absolute inability to control the strength and determine the destination of his heart waves -----
Etc.
----- I hate myself for continuing to love so wholeheartedly someone who cares so very little for me - where's my pride - where's my ambition -----
Etc.
May 6, 1946 Free Writing
Nelson, Alice
As I watched, the irregular puffs of frothy vapor which were scattered about the graying sky became faintly tinged with gold. The last finger-like rays of the sun groped about, peeking through pale, translucent leaves. Seedpods from budding maples spun and swirled to earth with a rustle. Carefree sparrows, waving and soaring far above the slender poplars, were but specks silhouetted against the vast blue sky. A shiver rippled along my body; the shadowed earth felt chilled and damp beneath my bare feet; the sun had passed below the line of trees, leaving me in the silence and solitude of dusk.
(I wrote this last night after taking a walk around the block.)
As I watched, the irregular puffs of frothy vapor which were scattered about the graying sky became faintly tinged with gold. The last finger-like rays of the sun groped about, peeking through pale, translucent leaves. Seedpods from budding maples spun and swirled to earth with a rustle. Carefree sparrows, waving and soaring far above the slender poplars, were but specks silhouetted against the vast blue sky. A shiver rippled along my body; the shadowed earth felt chilled and damp beneath my bare feet; the sun had passed below the line of trees, leaving me in the silence and solitude of dusk.
(I wrote this last night after taking a walk around the block.)
6-28-56 Moving Day and 7-5-56 Rabbit Dance
We are moving today from Pgh. to Cleveland by way of our vacation (St. Louis, Barrington & camping in Canada). I'm waiting for the van now - sitting on the back step in the morning sunshine - it's a grand day & gives a perfect last look at this place we've called home for 2 years. The sky is such an intense cloudless blue the oak & chestnut trees are such a rich, deep green, almost black against the brilliant blue - they are in their summer fullness - the wind rustles them & rounds the sides against which it blows - the multitude of cherries on the two trees by the old black house are a beautifully vivid spark.
The sun is bright against my lids & very warm against my skin. I've been sitting here enjoying the things late sleepers miss - such a magnitude of life can be witnessed on the small square of pavement at my feet - in this small space, in this short span of time I've seen several kinds & sizes of flies, ants, a grey-armored doodle bug, a tiny (young?) cricket, bronze wigglers, and a minute red spider, round with 3 or 4 legs on either side, scurrying like the wind, smaller than the head of a pin.
-------------------
Last night I saw a thing that put a sheen on everything for me. I was putting up the blind before getting late into bed & I saw this wonderful spectacle taking place on the street, driveway and lawn of a house down the hill. (now 7-5-56). Two rabbits of good full-grown size were performing - whether in courtship or just play, I don't know - but they would face each other about a foot or two apart, hop lightly in small arcs then one would make a playful lunge, and the other would hop straight up all of 2 feet or more & land on the same spot & they would circle some more. I'm afraid I failed to notice whether or not it was the same rabbit that jumped each time but this went on for about 10 minutes, then one became more interested in nibbling on the grass the other followed suit - this they did, moving gradually out of my sight & off to bed I went.
The sun is bright against my lids & very warm against my skin. I've been sitting here enjoying the things late sleepers miss - such a magnitude of life can be witnessed on the small square of pavement at my feet - in this small space, in this short span of time I've seen several kinds & sizes of flies, ants, a grey-armored doodle bug, a tiny (young?) cricket, bronze wigglers, and a minute red spider, round with 3 or 4 legs on either side, scurrying like the wind, smaller than the head of a pin.
-------------------
Last night I saw a thing that put a sheen on everything for me. I was putting up the blind before getting late into bed & I saw this wonderful spectacle taking place on the street, driveway and lawn of a house down the hill. (now 7-5-56). Two rabbits of good full-grown size were performing - whether in courtship or just play, I don't know - but they would face each other about a foot or two apart, hop lightly in small arcs then one would make a playful lunge, and the other would hop straight up all of 2 feet or more & land on the same spot & they would circle some more. I'm afraid I failed to notice whether or not it was the same rabbit that jumped each time but this went on for about 10 minutes, then one became more interested in nibbling on the grass the other followed suit - this they did, moving gradually out of my sight & off to bed I went.
June 21, 1956 - Horses
the first day of summer
the longest day of the year
We drove out Route 19 after dinner to a farm near Hickory - were invited there through a girl in Bob's office - where a friend of hers raises horses. At first was disappointing - all we could see were run-down bldgs - a nice enough barn and a delapidated shed but it became much much more than that -- first of all, we took turns riding a 4-year old mare named Clover - palomino and gentle - around a rect. pen - it felt good to be on horseback again - I felt as though I belonged there & hoped I looked it - she would walk along one end & one side but then turning toward the other end & side & back to the gate she broke into a nice trot & into a canter - oh, it felt so good & so free.
While I rode her Betty came close to play & Clover balked & reared & swerved but I held my seat & her & loved it!
I am completely without inhibitions when I am riding - feel & seem like another person - I revel in it, I cannot help from grinning broadly & all but laughing out loud - oh, blessed freedom of it - she became hot & tired & Jack walked her some & then tried to round the group of mares & 2 colts over closer to us - there were seven mares, sorrel, roan, palomino, buckskin & dapple and a pale, pale colt and a more dappled one.
Oh, is there any more beautiful sight than that of a horse running free - any age - & the sight of those colts running close beside their mothers was a joyous thing to behold - something I had never seen real so close before. I climbed the fence & stood there on a rung of it, seeing the horses in the foreground & hill upon hill against the darkening, still color-stained sky, with their broad round green surfaces broken by darker trees & more horses & cattle in the distance & I said aloud, I think it was aloud, that here was the essence of it all - the essence of all my hopes, plans, dreams - all this was me - I felt at one with it, part of it, close to God - I knew at that moment that God heard my prayer - somewhere, sometime I would be justly at one, at home, in such a place - the sky at 9:15 was still pale hazy - the whole scene was moist & lush & vaguely misty, everything softly outlined - later as we were leaving I leaned against a new fence, still smelling strongly of new wood, & looked up at a row of cottonwoods rustling with the gentle rush of air with the veiled full moon beyond & I felt that if I would only live in such a place day in & day out, night & day, season after season, in rain & sun, cold & heat, I would - what was the right word? - mature, ripen, develop, become a person, an individual, my writing might there flourish & take form - I would be an adult part of this world - if only it will not come too late.
And driving home I felt strangely as I've never felt before - the whole night was so beautiful - I said at first, was a night of nights, but it was not - just another beautiful night of an infinite number of beautiful nights at any time of year, in any part of the world & I wondered if, since the beauty I saw & felt was in me, could a night in France or Sweden or Africa be any more beautiful? I suppose everything combined to make me feel as I did - the horses by sight & by feel, the countryside, the full moon, open & clear by now, the softness of the air & Swan Lake on the radio - but I never remember having felt so rich & so full before - I wanted to smile, cry, yawn, sing, fling my arms out all at once - I felt so full & so satiated as to have an actual queasy feeling in my stomach - I felt as though anything more would make me literally burst - I felt that if I should die feeling like that, I could have asked no more of life & this earth.
---------------
J. said when a horse is kept in pasture, he does not seem to sweat when ridden, even hard.
---------------
& too, when a palomino is kept out thru the winter their cost bleaches out to be as pale as his tail & mane, but will darken to its natural reddish tan when inside for any time.
the longest day of the year
We drove out Route 19 after dinner to a farm near Hickory - were invited there through a girl in Bob's office - where a friend of hers raises horses. At first was disappointing - all we could see were run-down bldgs - a nice enough barn and a delapidated shed but it became much much more than that -- first of all, we took turns riding a 4-year old mare named Clover - palomino and gentle - around a rect. pen - it felt good to be on horseback again - I felt as though I belonged there & hoped I looked it - she would walk along one end & one side but then turning toward the other end & side & back to the gate she broke into a nice trot & into a canter - oh, it felt so good & so free.
While I rode her Betty came close to play & Clover balked & reared & swerved but I held my seat & her & loved it!
I am completely without inhibitions when I am riding - feel & seem like another person - I revel in it, I cannot help from grinning broadly & all but laughing out loud - oh, blessed freedom of it - she became hot & tired & Jack walked her some & then tried to round the group of mares & 2 colts over closer to us - there were seven mares, sorrel, roan, palomino, buckskin & dapple and a pale, pale colt and a more dappled one.
Oh, is there any more beautiful sight than that of a horse running free - any age - & the sight of those colts running close beside their mothers was a joyous thing to behold - something I had never seen real so close before. I climbed the fence & stood there on a rung of it, seeing the horses in the foreground & hill upon hill against the darkening, still color-stained sky, with their broad round green surfaces broken by darker trees & more horses & cattle in the distance & I said aloud, I think it was aloud, that here was the essence of it all - the essence of all my hopes, plans, dreams - all this was me - I felt at one with it, part of it, close to God - I knew at that moment that God heard my prayer - somewhere, sometime I would be justly at one, at home, in such a place - the sky at 9:15 was still pale hazy - the whole scene was moist & lush & vaguely misty, everything softly outlined - later as we were leaving I leaned against a new fence, still smelling strongly of new wood, & looked up at a row of cottonwoods rustling with the gentle rush of air with the veiled full moon beyond & I felt that if I would only live in such a place day in & day out, night & day, season after season, in rain & sun, cold & heat, I would - what was the right word? - mature, ripen, develop, become a person, an individual, my writing might there flourish & take form - I would be an adult part of this world - if only it will not come too late.
And driving home I felt strangely as I've never felt before - the whole night was so beautiful - I said at first, was a night of nights, but it was not - just another beautiful night of an infinite number of beautiful nights at any time of year, in any part of the world & I wondered if, since the beauty I saw & felt was in me, could a night in France or Sweden or Africa be any more beautiful? I suppose everything combined to make me feel as I did - the horses by sight & by feel, the countryside, the full moon, open & clear by now, the softness of the air & Swan Lake on the radio - but I never remember having felt so rich & so full before - I wanted to smile, cry, yawn, sing, fling my arms out all at once - I felt so full & so satiated as to have an actual queasy feeling in my stomach - I felt as though anything more would make me literally burst - I felt that if I should die feeling like that, I could have asked no more of life & this earth.
---------------
J. said when a horse is kept in pasture, he does not seem to sweat when ridden, even hard.
---------------
& too, when a palomino is kept out thru the winter their cost bleaches out to be as pale as his tail & mane, but will darken to its natural reddish tan when inside for any time.
6-12-56 Sugar and Vinegar
Sunday we revisited the Hartman's farm and I was swept by nostalgia for strange things - I remembered fondly last year's two week stay there - a time of cool, foggy mornings, clear, ringing nights - I could remember the taste and smell and feel of many things - it was a time of tomato and onion slices in sugar and vinegar, the faint inside smell of age and dampness and the strong outside smell of sun-warmed pines - days of hot, wearing sun & persistent, buzzing insects and nights of endless, open wonder.
The layout of the house is friendly and comfortable - just like my farm house should be. In a way it was like being in a home I had always known. I could almost hear the angry squaks of the geese as I walked through the barnyard though they are no longer there.
The view from the hilltop was as grand as I'd rememered it, as inspiring & as wonder-ful. And again I felt that a place just such as this would give me everything I want and need for a full & satisfying life - would be all I could ask.
The layout of the house is friendly and comfortable - just like my farm house should be. In a way it was like being in a home I had always known. I could almost hear the angry squaks of the geese as I walked through the barnyard though they are no longer there.
The view from the hilltop was as grand as I'd rememered it, as inspiring & as wonder-ful. And again I felt that a place just such as this would give me everything I want and need for a full & satisfying life - would be all I could ask.
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