Comments

From Scott 68
Posted from 24.106.233.66 on May 24, 2007 at 1:55 PM (GMT)
haha thats was a small fish, aint spring great?
From Bernardo B
Posted from 168.168.67.112 on May 24, 2007 at 2:32 PM (GMT)
OMG - I'm not dreaming - Are you still wearing hats and jackets?
From Pauline Lerner
Posted from 70.108.127.47 on May 24, 2007 at 2:44 PM (GMT)
Nice photos. Happy spring.
From Emily Grossman
Posted from 209.193.46.4 on May 24, 2007 at 5:51 PM (GMT)
Today I'm wearing shorts. With a hat and jacket.
From Bilbo Prattle
Posted from 69.37.117.19 on May 25, 2007 at 1:27 AM (GMT)
Another beautiful blog. One of the best kept secrets of the contemporary literary universe.

Speaking of jackets and shorts, I went sailing this evening in shorts and didn't even wear a jacket. Air temp made it to 90 this afternoon.

From Roelof Bijkerk
Posted from 152.163.100.139 on May 25, 2007 at 4:07 AM (GMT)
D*&$ shame about the paper running.
Happens every time there's a dignitary in town!
From Roelof Bijkerk
Posted from 64.12.116.139 on May 25, 2007 at 5:05 AM (GMT)
I just saw my own post..
It's supposed to say paper running out.

Yes the paper also goes running when there's a dignitary in town.

From Emily Grossman
Posted from 209.193.46.4 on May 25, 2007 at 9:31 AM (GMT)
Politicians these days would serve us better if they'd simply sit for a year or two until they've dried thoroughly, and then spread themselves evenly over the cornfields, come January. It'd save us some trees, at least.
From Roelof Bijkerk
Posted from 152.163.100.139 on May 25, 2007 at 11:41 PM (GMT)
"Politicians these days"

Yes they are a problem

Marie Antoinette has turned into fertilizer twice already (and is on her third cycle)...

I suppose this is supposed to give one hope about George.

From Emily Grossman
Posted from 209.193.46.4 on May 26, 2007 at 4:39 AM (GMT)
Ha! I like that thought about Marie.

This is a favorite of mine, from the Psalms:

"...for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.
As for man, his days are like grass,
he flourishes like a flower of the field;
the wind blows over it and is gone,
and its place remembers it no more."