As the world goes ever and ever darker in so many ways, I am here and there is nothing but light and cool air and I took my walk, a good strong one, and the chickens are scratching in the noonday dapple and I am grateful.
It could be fall, the air is that cool and the sky is that blue.
Twenty-six years ago I was one day away from giving birth to my baby-who-is-having-a-baby and my dreams were sweet this morning and I am still listening to A Storm of Swords and I just have to say that George R.R. Martin may be one of the best story-tellers ever to have lived and I feel sorry for those who have only watched the series and have not read (or listened to) the words themselves and let their own minds make the pictures. As good as the series may be, as fine as the actors might be, as incredible as the sets may be, nothing could be as good as all of these words, unspilt from the mind of a writer.
Hello. I think I will sit on the back steps now and feed the chickens and ducks some stale bread and then take some to the mama hen and her two babes, just to hear the sweet peeps that they make.