Tuesday, January 3rd, 2006
Ah, ground freeze. Our older dog, Arrow, must live long enough for the ground to soften up. The other way would get us in trouble. We could amble to the Farmington River and give her the Scyld treatment.
. . . Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o’er the flood with him floating away.