Gray

The gossamer clouds which drifted all night shot with stars have vanished as a gray morning nears. A chill fog, thin at the ground but growing dense above has wreathed the forest, making the distant ridges vague. Despite the wintry scent it has brought, the morning birds chirp, loud and persistent. I remember how clearly the crescent moon shone last evening. Now there seems not even to be a sky, but only this vaporous roof that threatens to devour the treetops. Surpassingly strange.

( Sunday Verse )

"Morsured," by the way, is an archaic word meaning bitten.

Evil Slug

Sluggo is angry again. The day didn't feel all that hot to me, but I guess I'll have to use the window fans to flood the room with cool evening air for a couple of hours before I can get the worthless bugger to work more than ten minutes at a time. Maybe he'd like a nice, cold drink poured over his CPU? Someday....

The transit of Venus is going to occur in a couple of days, I think, but it won't be visible from California. We've always had problems getting transit here. (Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.)