Possumblog

Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.


Friday, July 25, 2003

Paradise by the Pinchgut

Wow. Yesterday afternoon was about as close to midsummer perfection as you could ever get around here—went to the soccer park to wait for Reba to bring Rebecca and puttered around a bit just soaking it all in. Low humidity, mild temperature, slight breeze, big puffy Maxfield Parrish clouds, brilliant blue sky, grass and trees as lush as Olde Sodde. The sound of the train coming through, quick blips of coach’s whistles, the thunmpk-ing of soccer balls, the p-TINK! of kids connecting with horsehide over at the baseball park. Oh, and the birds—tons of birds—four or five different pairs of sparrows were up there, just chirping away and flittering around and occasionally lighting long enough on handy fences and low-hanging tree limbs to engage in raucous, vigorous, and embarrassingly public copulation.

Must be the weather.

Anyway, Reba finally wheeled in and Bec hopped out, and I got to sit there on the bench reading my nice, somewhat new Car and Driver. Got home early due to an early end of practice, got Cat to come fill up the bird feeders with me and just stood there looking at the sky and trees. It sure was pretty.

“What you lookin’ for, Daddy?”

“Santa.”

“Daaaad! Santa’s at th’North Pole!”

“Rabbits?”

“Daddeeee!! Rabbits don’t fly!”

“The house? It needs paint, you know.”

“Hm. Yeah, th’ house need-es some paint. I’m goin’ inside now so I can finish my game.”

“Okeedoke. It’s real pretty out here, isn’t it, Cat.”

“Yes sir, it’s priddy, but I’m gettin’ eat up by m’skeeters.”

“Yeah. I think I’ll come in with you.”

Yesterday afternoon was a good one.


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