Decadent we've-been-working-extra-hard doughnut from Clyde Coffee, (thank you, June!) courtesy of the adventurous Tandem Doughnuts bakers - ultra-yum! AND if I hadn't been told, I wouldn't have known it was gluten free. That is some good living under the Big Sky!
"It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."
- C S Lewis (1898-1963), from Mere Christianity, pp 170-171
"Autumn rewards western Kansas for the evils that the remaining seasons impose: winter's rough Colorado winds and hip-high, sheep-slaughtering snows; the slushes and the strange land fogs of spring; and summer, when even crows seek the puny shade, and the tawny infinitude of wheatstalks bristle, blaze."
"Cats are rather delicate creatures and they are subject to a good many different ailments, but I have never heard of one who suffered from insomnia."
- Joseph Wood Krutch (1893-1970) Today our dear, opinionated Tigger enjoyed last visits and naps with his favourite people. Fittingly, sunbeams shone through the clouds to grace his departure. He was a good cat and agile bird hunter; and through all his many years, he never took guff from anyone, beast or human. It will take some getting used to his not being around, sauntering down the sidewalk with a raspy "Mwrow!" in greeting, followed by a head-butting brush of ownership - his owning us, of course.All of his collected people will miss him, but heaven is one stripey cat the richer.
"...Why, if one wants to compare life to anything, one must liken it to being blown through the Tube at fifty miles an hour - landing at the other end without a single hairpin in one's hair! Shot out at the feet of God entirely naked! Tumbling head over heels in the asphodel meadows like brown paper parcels pitched down a shoot [chute] in the post office! With one's hair flying back like the tail of a racehorse. Yes, that seems to express the rapidity of life, the perpetual waste and repair; all so casual, all so haphazard..." - Virginia Woolf, in her story "The Mark On The Wall"
Temptation was strong to gleefully roll down this hillside carpeted with golden willow leaves. But I resisted - not because it would leave my office-appropriate clothes in an, er, interesting state, but rather because, ever since I was about 10 years old, that whole rolling-spinning thing makes me queasy. Sad, I know.