Chop wood, carry angst

Air temperature 43 F, wind southwest about 7 mph, mostly cloudy. Bruins managed to pull out a win on overtime. Trash out.

Minor triumph

This being November and here being Maine, I ventured to test the snowblower. Started up fine -- after I thought to fill the gas tank. Appears that I ran it dry last spring and forgot that little fact.

Riders on the storm

Walking around the neighborhood and became aware of some concentrated crow noise ahead. And a lump on a branch, a large lump that didn't get any smaller as I approached. At first I thought it was an owl, but when I got closer I could see a white head against the gray clouds. Adult bald eagle. It took off and I could see the white tail as well. It circled and then cruised off down wind, aided by gusts.

Rain shower just a bit after I got home, so timing was good in two directions.

(no subject)

The moment the results became clear, the finger-pointing began. Finding someone to blame for a loss is almost as important as winning.

(no subject)

The World Is Too Much With Us
By William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.