Head-dibs

 

Went to a wedding in Greenville, SC yesterday evening. Got up this morning and visited the lovely downtown park before returning to the house. And of course, Blogger rearranged picture order . . .

Also known as “Captain Ridiculous”. He’ll lick your face but don’t for one second doubt his ferocity. Been part of the pack for almost a year. He’s my grandson’s little brother and loves to play with the cat, Buddy, who shows an amazing amount of patience. I’m not much of a pet person, but I like him. Shoot, I love him!

  “We should take wandering outdoor walks, so that the mind might be nourished and refreshed by the open air and deep breathing.” (Seneca, On Tranquility of Mind, 17.8) And a sit by the fire!

 

 A quiet, roaring beauty after the fire . It just goes on and on.

Anyone can benefit from this golden nugget. Good Fortune!

 It’s been too long. Needed this peace for some time now. Oh, my heart . . . My glasses broke so I’m wearing an old prescription until new ones come in. Can’t see as clear as I’d like but at least I’m outside! 

  “If the Superman is better than we, of course we need not fight him; but in that case, why not call him the Saint? But if he is merely stronger (whether physically, mentally, or morally stronger, I do not care a farthing), then he ought to have to reckon with us at least for all the strength we have. If we are weaker than he, that is no reason why we should be weaker than ourselves. If we are not tall enough to touch the giant’s knees, that is no reason why we should become shorter by falling on our own. But that is at bottom the meaning of all modern hero-worship and celebration of the Strong Man, the Caesar, the Superman. That he may be something more than man, we must be something less. Doubtless there is an older and better hero-worship than this. But the old hero was a being who, like Achilles, was more human than humanity itself. Nietzsche’s Superman is cold and friendless. Achilles is so foolishly fond of his friend that he slaughters armies in the agony of his bereavement...

On my long daily commutes I often get stuck on a song that I’ll listen to for a week or more, studying as much as I can about it. This masterpiece has been the focus of my attention of late. So complex, so deep, so true…so much to think about…

 It’s hot already. 

 

  “When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,   And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,  When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,  And maidens bleach their summer smocks.” (From Shakespeare’s “Love’s Labors Lost”)