No thaw. Fallen ash-boughs all stripped & gnawed by rabbits. Pan of water left out all day is thickly frozen by evening.
6 eggs.
Winter. Can it end already?
Sunday, January 03, 2010
In the bleak midwinter
There is something strikingly poetic, spare and lovely--but also gloomy and foreboding--in George Orwell's diary entry from 2 January 1940:
Winter. Can it end already?
Winter. Can it end already?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment