Sifting through life in a rural village. Perhaps an edge of insanity mixed with aging wisdom, swirled with wonder and served in small bites.
January 25, 2015
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Winter again. Not predicting a heavy snow but it is snowing and winds are blowing and temps are falling. 31 now and only a very light layer of fresh snow.
"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary...." Ah. A favorite poem I repeat to myself when my life needs a rhythm and a rhyme. Not your favorite? Sigh. Poe speaks for me when the confusion of life overruns my brain. "Came a tapping at my chamber door." What mysteries abound in the night? Is it the witch creeping closer to the edge of my bed? Is it doom searching along the depths of night on my ceiling? Am I safe in my corner? "Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore'!" Ah! Does this help to explain the darkness of my perspectives? Does it help to know this is a picture of the house of my childhood? Or are you also pondering weak and weary?
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