Come all you fair and tender maids
That flourish in your prime.
Beware, beware keep your garden fair.
Let no man steal your thyme.
For when your thyme is past and gone,
He'll care no more for you,
And every place where your thyme was waste
Will all spread o're with rue.
For woman is a branchy tree,
And man's a clinging vine,
And from your branches carelessly
He'll take what he can find.
The gardener's son was standing by;
Three flowers he gave to me
The pink, the blue, and the violet, too,
And the red, red rosy tree.
But I forsook the red rose bush
and gained the willow tree,
So all the world might plainly see
How my love slighted me.
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My Friday was mostly about work -- I was working on a review of Voyager's "Non Sequitur" and it was really hard to come up with anything nice to say. Man, that episode is boring! It's so much easier to write reviews of episodes that have a lot going on, even if there are flaws. Otherwise I did things like sweep the deck and clean up some more in the dining room, plus watch some college football.
We saw Far from the Madding Crowd, which was beautifully filmed and well acted by three of the four leads (I was not impressed by Sturridge; Mulligan, Schoenaerts, and Sheen were all very good). The story felt very compressed and the script was trying a little too hard to hold up to contemporary feminist scrutiny, but it was enjoyable. Some goats from last fall's farm festival at Caprikorn Farm:
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