Crunching Pine Needles on the Ground when I Walk

[rejectomorph]

The cold front has passed through, leaving a chill on the night air. In spite of the coolness which has given Sluggo a new (temporary) lease on digital life-likeness, rather than taking advantage of it, I have spent much of the night watching the conclusion of Daniel Deronda on PBS. You know, I've never read any George Eliot. I'll have to correct that oversight sometime before I die. After all, there might be a quiz.

Putting on a jacket and going out to look at the stars now.