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!
