By John Keats
Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there
Among the bushes half leafless, and dry;
The stars look very cold about the sky,
And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air,
Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,
Or of those silver lamps that burn on high,
Or of the distance from home's pleasant lair:
For I am brimfull of the friendliness
That in a little cottage I have found;
Of fair-hair'd Milton's eloquent distress,
And all his love for gentle Lycid drown'd;
Of lovely Laura in her light green dress,
And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown'd.
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Monday felt like a Monday, involving work, chores, laundry, and shopping, though the weather was gorgeous which makes things so much nicer. In the afternoon we went with Madeline to the library, then to take a walk in Cabin John Park to enjoy the aforementioned weather, then to Giant, CVS, etc. The cats have been saved from having only six different types of wet food -- now they have eleven types, any one of which the older cats may decide to boycott without warning.
Football season has started, meaning that I had to watch two teams I really don't like play each other. I rooted for the R-words, even though I hate their name and their owner, because I hate Pittsburgh's quarterback and ex-quarterback more than I hate even the R-words' owner and it would have been good for the Ravens had the Steelers lost, though sadly it was not to be. Here are some of the rescued raptors who visited Boonesborough Days last weekend:
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