“…don’t you love her madly as she’s walkin’ out the door…”

Winter is leaving us and I, for one, will miss her.  From when “the frost is on the pumpkin (heads) and the fodder’s in the shock, and the new colt’s baying…”   How does the poem go?  “…her stung kiss ‘pon cheek and ear, I shall miss ‘ere those sweet disciplines…” or something like that…

Ok, I could segway on from this point, but since I’m just learning how to blog we’ll stop here.  You can consider this post (and the previous) a couple of test posts–and me still the knot-head, of course!  I know I will miss winter’s sweeter moments, though..

Hello World!

Should anyone out there perchance read this–note in a bottle, to me as it were–I pray one’s time ought be better spent listening to such extravagance, as from within myself, from what remains of this, an rather “ancient mariner of life!”  Be this as it may–should I be so indulged–I should then begin our journey grateful for any companionship gained, prithee not to become too great the distraction upon thy own life’s feast, yet with the intent to wed one to my story using such aplomb–nay, guile–as is necessary to properly engage what modest conversation may be divorced at any convenience; I humbly beg forgiveness for any failings toward my endeavor, and I thank all most gratefully for any generous indulgence for this most inconvenient creature as myself.  Now, as my intent has ernestly been established, therefore, let us proceed from our sacred beginnings unto yon galleon…!