Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting
and autumn a mosaic of them all.
- Stanley Horowitz
What a beautiful morning! I hesitated even writing here this morning because the outside is calling! Summer has been so especially hard this year; it's been difficult to enjoy it. If one chooses to collect their mail at midnight, they would stroll to the mailbox in 95-degree temperatures! It's made us lazy, even the cats found a new kind of lazy ~ I was beginning to think the summer had melted their bones, as they found new ways to lay out their bodies in distortions I had not observed before.
I've awaken Madam Blueberry to inform her that her season of choice is calling loudly ~ "Come outside and have your morning tea with me!"
We have slept in this morning, as we were up at midnight working on Math! Composites! Oh, and we shall conquer thee!
Ye exponents of the arithmetician army!
Ye Counter-Casters!
Armed with tea and biscuits and the gift of a morning that lies on our shoulders, as if being caressed by a fine silk shawl, that lay to comfort our scorched and weary exteriors....
Well, okay, got a little carried away, but onward! This day shall be faced, and we shall win a great victory. I can feel it. I shall keep my dream of the victory close to my heart.
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""I can't believe that," said Alice.
"Can't you?" The Queen said, in a pitying tone. "Try again: draw a long breath and shut your eyes."
Alice laughed. "There’s no use trying," she said. "One can't believe impossible things."
"I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was younger, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
~~~~Through the Looking Glass
Lewis Carroll
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