She Still Acts Like a Puppy

But she’s beginning to look her age.

(That’s the green fleece lined vest she wears, along with booties, to go out when it’s really, really cold.)

Coming Your Way

I hope you enjoyed the cold weather we sent you from the Yukon last week. This is what comes behind it.

While I walked my dog this afternoon, it was 10º C. (That’s 50º F for the metric impaired.) This is a January thaw that’s almost enough to make up for the month of cold.

Here’s a photo that I should have uploaded and posted last week. This is what it looks like down by the river when it’s -30ºish.

A Bit of Tennyson

From In Memoriam, XXXI

When Lazarus left his charnel-cave,
And home to Mary’s house return’d,
Was this demanded — if he yearn’d
To hear her weeping by his grave?

“Where wert thou, brother, those four days?”
There lives no record of reply,
Which telling what it is to die
Had surely added praise to praise.

From every house the neighbours met,
The streets were fill’d with joyful sound,
A solemn gladness even crown’d
The purple brows of Olivet.

Behold a man raised up by Christ!
The rest remaineth unreveal’d;
He told it not; or something seal’d
The lips of that Evangelist.

—Alfred Lord Tennyson