I made a solar clock that marks 12 hours from sunrise to sunset at any latitude and longitude, after the mode of medieval monastic life. Consider it my protest against the idea of permanent daylight savings time.

Finished reading: Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens. Actually finished listening: Dickens in the hands (mouth?) of a good voice actor (in this case, Anton Lesser) is a marvel, and what audiobooks were made for. 📚

The Sexton: A poem after a painting by William Merritt Chase, written some years ago on a bench in the North Carolina Museum of Art.

Decided to try a warming mat for my seeds this year. Clearly it works. This is three days in. Which is good, because if one spends money on a technological aid to what is supposed to be a simple, down to earth activity, one at least wants results for one’s hypocrisy!

Starting seeds.

”‘Twas a grey day in February, and evening fell like a dead canary…” Thus begins this year’s winning entry in the annual Upper Dongle Creek Literary Society Bad Poetry Contest

If the Lenten roses are blooming on Epiphany, do I have to go ahead and start fasting?

En freehlicher (zwedde) Grischtdaag!

Have Yourself a Medieval Christmas. Ten years since I wrote this piece, and I wouldn’t write it the same way now, but it’s worth sharing again anyhow. Come tomorrow night, kick up your heels and raise a glass to the newborn king!