Saturday, October 16, 2010

Living in the Sticks


Taken October 3, 2010.

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Friday, October 15, 2010

Glory Be for Dappled Things


Taken October 4, 2010.

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Thursday, October 14, 2010

Cricket Chirping?


Taken October 2, 2010.

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Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Mirror Unmirrored


Taken October 2, 2010.

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Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Last Ferns Standing


Taken September 29, 2010.

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Monday, October 11, 2010

Good to the Last Drop

It's completely dried up now. In the 31 years we've lived here, this is only the second time I can remember this creek going completely dry.
Taken September 24, 2010.

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Sunday, October 10, 2010

Sunday Poetry Post

Tom (1935-2010) loved Robert W. Service's poems. Plied with enough strong drink, Tom might perform one of his longer poems.

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Birthday
by Robert William Service
(16th January 1949)

I thank whatever gods may be
For all the happiness that's mine;
That I am festive, fit and free
To savour women, wit and wine;
That I may game of golf enjoy,
And have a formidable drive:
In short, that I'm a gay old boy
Though I be
Seventy-and-five.

My daughter thinks. because I'm old
(I'm not a crock, when all is said),
I mustn't let my feet get cold,
And should wear woollen socks in bed;
A worsted night-cap too, forsooth!
To humour her I won't contrive:
A man is in his second youth
When he is
Seventy-and-five.

At four-score years old age begins,
And not till then, I warn my wife;
At eighty I'll recant my sins,
And live a staid and sober life.
But meantime let me whoop it up,
And tell the world that I'm alive:
Fill to the brim the bubbly cup -
Here's health to
Seventy-and-five!