Sifting through life in a rural village. Perhaps an edge of insanity mixed with aging wisdom, swirled with wonder and served in small bites.
March 6, 2015
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I know. This doesn't look any different than yesterday. Was cold with no new snow so landscape was not affected. Tomorrow may be warm enough to start a thaw. Sigh. 13 degrees at 9 am.
"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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