More fodder for the lake kiddies.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
It's raining, it's pouring.
The old man is snoring.
Bumped his head,
And he went to bed.
And he couldn't get up in the morning.
In honor of our fitful summer. And an entreaty to old sluggard Helios to take two aspirin, shake off the hangover, and harness the team.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
If all the world were apple pie,
And all the seas were ink,
And all the trees were bread and cheese,
What would we have to drink?
Old Mother Goose
Stained toes and strained bows. And sticky fingers, too. And gods that would rather consume than compose.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Monday, July 06, 2009
Technically, we live in what used to be an Old Wood. Though I suppose, technically, everyone does. But the reminders are of the more immediate sort. We have some bold bunnies and one shy skunk. There's a tut-tutting groundhog that's currently suing for his hours in the backyard. I saw a small rabbit get hoisted by a crow into the tops of the trees, wailing all the way. All in broad daylight.
And the Little Folk are more than just fringe folk here. They're vague approximations, to be sure; come tumbling out of memory in a mess of cobbled features, ragdoll limbs, and tiny pedestrian tricks. But they've a knack for the oldest and best, and every morning my hair tangles a bit more, and every night they have their way with the attic door.
Posted by Jess at 11:31 PM