By Gerard Manley Hopkins
Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
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My whole Wednesday was boring chores. Adam had one vehicle and Paul had the other, so since I had no transportation, I figured it was a good day to get work done (some of it anyway) and get things done in the house (not that you can ever tell that I got things done unless you're me). The cats found me boring and lounged around on my bed or the couch all day.
The Orioles won again really well, which was nice, though the Nats game is ongoing and not good since the bottom of the first. We caught up on Still Star-Crossed, which hasn't officially been canceled but has not picked up the cast, which means it will be soon so I might as well enjoy it while I can. Here are some of the sparrows who live on our roof:
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