What a day! Eliza J. and I decided to go picnicking in our Sunday dresses... we sat under the willows with our bicycles in close sight and ate teacakes and berries. Our modest conversational murmurs were interrupted only by the distant sounds of box turtles and the soft thump of falling crabapples.
Okay, not really. I'm suspended in the suburbs thanks to the relentless yet oddly belgian-lace delicate snowfall. I heard it was also cold outside. I don't know. I'm going to go outside and shovel or walk dogs or something before I turn into a flabby pile of entropic compost.
I miss baseball.
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