By J.R.R. Tolkien
In western lands beneath the Sun
The flowers may rise in Spring,
The trees may bud, the waters run,
The merry finches sing.
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night,
And swaying branches bear
The Elven-stars as jewels white
Amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey's end I lie
In darkness buried deep,
Beyond all towers strong and high,
Beyond all mountains steep,
Above all shadows rides the Sun
And Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
Nor bid the Stars farewell.
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Summer returned on Thursday with temperatures in the high 70s. We got out to enjoy it in the afternoon; I spent the morning working on a cataloguing project which then sent me on a wild goose chase looking for a book I haven't seen since we moved out here and can't figure out where it ended up. I had my Thursday chat group after we got back from the beach.
Cheryl started watching the second season of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power with us, but her power went out, so we're going to pick it up tomorrow night. The Orioles lost to the Dodgers, so now we're watching Ridley, which remains intense and depressing. Some of the finds we found at the antique stores in Snohomish last weekend:
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