Develop Mode

Social media is so out of hand it's getting difficult to have an actual conversation. I don't have a cell phone. A land line only, with a dial-up connection that doesn't allow me to open anything. Life is good at the rookery. Last trip to town I paid my land taxes and filed for my agricultural exemption. Snow, sleet and rain in the forecast, but I'm secure, with a dozen or so books, and I have a back-up battery for my headlamp. A lovely gentle snow-fall in the afternoon, large flakes, no wind. I'm not sure what boredom is, but I don't suffer it often. Now it's snowing hard, and this was not forecast, the ground is covered. I reread The Riddle Of The Sands, then eat excellent leftovers, the pork strips, cooked in miso, are heavenly, then take a nap. It's so quiet, when I wake up, that I know there's a blanket of snow. I sweep off the approach to the back door and the steps. It's beautiful, snow falling in the black night, and the only sound is the occasional constrained percussive thing that happens when a branch-load of snow falls into a snow bank. No bugs, no birds, no animals. I turn on my computer and consider a couple of commas that may have been extravagant. I often worry about tense, when I'm reconstructing a story. The present is difficult to manage. The past is, however, a playground. Everyone has a slant and none of them agree. If anyone were to stay with me now, they'd have to ask about the crows. Yes, they're sleeping over there, yes they are loud at times, but who ever lived in a rookery? It's quiet most of the time, but the crows set sentries, and they have very good eyesight. I hear that train coming.