Friday, February 28, 2014

Poem for Friday and Fort Washington

Strange are the Decrees of Fate
By Mirabai
Translated by A.J. Aston

Strange are the decrees of fate.

Behold the large eyes of the deer!
Yet he is forced to roam the fore.

The harsh crane has brilliant plumage,
While the sweet-voiced cuckoo is black.

The rivers flow in pure streams,
But the sea makes them salt.

Fools sit on thrones as kings,
While the wise beg their bread.

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It did not snow on Thursday morning! In fact, it was sunny most of the day, though every time I went out I was kind of bummed because my Russian neighbors with two young children who are a lot of fun to watch as they chase each other and ride their tricycles up and down in front of my house were packing up their things into a moving van. We aren't particularly friendly with the parents -- they both work long hours, so we see the nanny and grandparents more often -- but I will be sorry not to see the kids, whom we have known since they were babies. Now who will tell me about toy cars?

Otherwise my day mostly involved uninteresting stuff, though I did manage to get hideous malware while trying to open a .zipx file, which required running lots of cleanup on my desktop (note: there cannot possibly be anything in a .zipx file worth either paying for a program to open or risking the garbage that comes bundled with the program). And I dissected two bracelets and put together some beads so now I have a train charm bracelet and a Terrapin charm bracelet. Yay, Elementary is back! Here are some more photos of Fort Washington after the last big snow melted:
















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