Lonely Cottage

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  “Among the few features of agricultural England which retain an appearance but little modified by the lapse of centuries, may be reckoned the high, grassy and furzy downs, coombs, or ewe-leases, as they are indifferently called, that fill a large area of certain counties in the south and south-west. If any mark of human occupation is met with hereon, it usually takes the form of the solitary cottage of some shepherd. Fifty years ago such a lonely cottage stood on such a down, and may possibly be standing there now. In spite of its loneliness, however, the spot, by actual measurement, was not more than five miles from a county-town. Yet that affected it little. Five miles of irregular upland, during the long inimical seasons, with their sleets, snows, rains, and mists, afford withdrawing space enough to isolate a Timon or a Nebuchadnezzar; much less, in fair weather, to please that less repellent tribe, the poets, philosophers, artists, and others who “conceive and meditate of ple...

Birthdays

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The first birthday party I remember was when I turned six. I remember there were kids everywhere playing on the backyard jungle gym. Of course this was long before jungle gyms were made with the same kind of safety measures as today so it’s a wonder than any of us survived. 


The party was on our covered back porch, and I distinctly remember the large rectangular birthday cake. There was a cowboy on it with big brown boots. Moms in their beehive hairdo’s shepherded children through party games while dads talked, supervising. All we wanted was the cake.


Being that my birthday is in mid May we had plenty of grass to play on under the large, shady oak. I don’t remember if there were any specific games although I do remember presents. Part of me wants to remember that I had gotten a record player for my birthday but I’m not 100% sure. The most important thing I remember were friends, family, and laughter. Those are what make the best birthday.


(Artwork created by AI)

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