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This morning, on my way home from work - i got in the car at 07:10 local time - i happened to hit the button for DC101, and lo and behold, it was then 07:15, and just as the receiver got there what happened, but Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant erupted from the speakers. So, i spent most of my drive home knowing that verily and truly, it be Thanksgiving. Never mind that i was heading home at 07:00, and that i work tonight at 19:00.
Tomorrow after work i head to Darkover, where a dinner will be had in the glorious presence of Saint Ow, canonized a year ago by the Pope herself, whom i hope will allow me to grace her presence for some part of the weekend.
On my flist today are a wide variety of things, ranging from a family gathering at the deathbed, to a year of photographs at milepost 38 of the Washington & Old Dominion trail montaged into a video, to cheer about healthy cats, frustration and exasperation at Life, and musings about authors dealing with negative reviews, kindly linked through the opening of the To be or not to be soliloquy.
I believe we here in the DC-Baltimore area be in store for a Winter like we've not seen in some years. It was ~76ºF at around Noon, right now it's ~66ºF, and it will be ~36ºF by midnight. I need to bake/cook something for to eat at work tonight, as i doubt much will be open tonight.
From the for-now open door here in the living room, i hear a wind such that the trees are dancing that beautiful rhythmic ballet they do so enjoy when there be a stiff breeze. I have heard cats caterwauling children making joyful noises, birds chirping, the odd airplane, and the pitter-patter of the cats playing. I am watching the wind strip most of the last of the frivolously fluttering and twitching yellow leaves from the trees. I imagine i'll see the oranges and reds mostly gone on my way to work, insofar as there will yet be light at that hour. I need must give credit to the Southern Red Oaks for tenaciously clinging to their browned leaves, that the snow, ice, and new growth of the Spring send the leaves to fertilize the ground and become new Dirt.
And so, the trees stand naked, Winter looms, Darkness is well into her reign, which shall last into Spring, and we all continue the Danse Macabre that be Life, as we struggle through the Dead of the year, anticipating the promise of the quickening that bring rebirth in the form of Easter, with her chickens and eggs and rabbits and fecundity. A virtual red candle to the memory of Ostara, that we all come through the Winter well. Blessings hundredfold unto us all!
Tomorrow after work i head to Darkover, where a dinner will be had in the glorious presence of Saint Ow, canonized a year ago by the Pope herself, whom i hope will allow me to grace her presence for some part of the weekend.
On my flist today are a wide variety of things, ranging from a family gathering at the deathbed, to a year of photographs at milepost 38 of the Washington & Old Dominion trail montaged into a video, to cheer about healthy cats, frustration and exasperation at Life, and musings about authors dealing with negative reviews, kindly linked through the opening of the To be or not to be soliloquy.
I believe we here in the DC-Baltimore area be in store for a Winter like we've not seen in some years. It was ~76ºF at around Noon, right now it's ~66ºF, and it will be ~36ºF by midnight. I need to bake/cook something for to eat at work tonight, as i doubt much will be open tonight.
From the for-now open door here in the living room, i hear a wind such that the trees are dancing that beautiful rhythmic ballet they do so enjoy when there be a stiff breeze. I have heard cats caterwauling children making joyful noises, birds chirping, the odd airplane, and the pitter-patter of the cats playing. I am watching the wind strip most of the last of the frivolously fluttering and twitching yellow leaves from the trees. I imagine i'll see the oranges and reds mostly gone on my way to work, insofar as there will yet be light at that hour. I need must give credit to the Southern Red Oaks for tenaciously clinging to their browned leaves, that the snow, ice, and new growth of the Spring send the leaves to fertilize the ground and become new Dirt.
And so, the trees stand naked, Winter looms, Darkness is well into her reign, which shall last into Spring, and we all continue the Danse Macabre that be Life, as we struggle through the Dead of the year, anticipating the promise of the quickening that bring rebirth in the form of Easter, with her chickens and eggs and rabbits and fecundity. A virtual red candle to the memory of Ostara, that we all come through the Winter well. Blessings hundredfold unto us all!
