Marching past the Ides

Unlike Caesar, we have once again made it through the Ides of March. The best parts of this year are now ahead of us, at least as far as weather and activities are involved. A dash of the outdoors makes just about everything better. Today's sunshine is melting the ice at the East (road) end of the drive. The rest of the drive is shaded by enough trees that we may need to exchange our yak-tax for skate blades this year.

the drive / skating rink

Photo by J. Harrington

We know hedgehogs are not indigenous to North America, although they are native to Ireland and so fit in with this Irish weekend. Plus, we've developed a fondness for them after seeing so many cute pictures of them online. Since our primary chocolatier makes chocolate hedgehogs as Easter/Spring decorations, we once again have one sitting on the dining room table. [The seam in this year's version isn't noticeable.] Would that we were so easily pleased in all things.

our very own hedgehog

Photo by J. Harrington

This morning we baked some oats and barley scones. Tomorrow it will be Irish soda bread. All in honor of St. Patrick's Day and our Irish heritage. The Better Half is planning on corned beef and cabbage for tomorrow's dinner. We're reminiscing about marching in the Boston St. Patrick's day parade, back when we were in the equivalent of junior high (7th and 8th grade). This year the weather  back East is slightly warmer than ours and both places are doing much better than the folks in Nebraska, Iowa and environs. At this time of year, many of us would love to be at a cabin on Innisfree.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

By William Butler Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

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