Such fog this morning! I would bake sourdough bread except for I have had to put bread baking on hiatus because whenever I bake it I cannot stop eating it.
Well, sourdough or no sourdough at least it is feeling like spring. Padding outside to get the papers I could hear mourning doves and feel spring in the air.
Wow, that link. Do not miss it! Except be warned, I just poured five minutes into it. Here I was with all these chores slated for this morning and there I am, mouth open, holding my cup of chai tea, just gazing and listening.
I have loved that song since I was a teenager! That melody. And that beautiful piano. That is the English pianist Gerald Moore you are hearing. A god among men. See? I sometimes do praise other pianists besides Pennario.
Here is a thought (I know, I have them rarely):
Last night I was looking back in my Web log, in pursuit of I forget what, and I happened on what I wrote on Easter last year. Easter last year was a little over a year ago. It was April 4.
It was 80 degrees!
My nieces were over baking on Holy Saturday and we had to open the windows.
I do not mean to feed into anyone's discontent.
I am just saying.
This is the time of year when everyone in Buffalo turns into a sage and makes predictions about the summer. Many, many people are saying we will have none this year.
It cannot be so. It must happen.
Schubert said it!
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