:: Sleet! Ice! Hail! Snow! This makes me happy. Why? Because it’s April and it just won’t last. Enjoy your last gasp, winter. I’ll see you next November.
:: In the mornings, the dog gets up with the rest of us, goes outside, has his breakfast, begs for H’s breakfast, stands by the door as I wave goodbye to M & H. And then you know what he does? He looks at me, he sighs a long, slow sigh, and then he trots back upstairs to bed for a couple of hours. He’s so smart that way.
:: I really wish my mom could see this!
:: New baking toys for my birthday.
:: April? Time for a pilgrimage.
Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open eye-
(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages…
–Geoffrey Chaucer, from the “General Prologue” of The Canterbury Tales