All posts by Laurie Graves

I write about nature, food, the environment, home, family, community, and people.

And He’s Back!

Last Monday, when there was no snow for Snow-Gauge Clif to measure, I wondered if he might be back the following Monday. After all, in Maine in March anything can happen. Snow was in the forecast for last Tuesday, and the weekend promised to be horrible with more snow—six inches—and worst of all, freezing rain that could knock out large swaths of power in central and southern Maine.

Being sensible Mainers, we prepared. Clif got more bricks of wood from a local hardware and farm store. When he went to the grocery store, he stocked up on canned soup. Water in buckets down cellar? Check. Propane for the camp stove? Check. Lamp oil? Check yet again. We were ready.

But every once in a while, the weather gods are on our side. While we got about three inches of snow and some rain, none of it was freezing, and we did not lose our power. Happy, happy day!

As soon as we realized the weather wasn’t as bad as predicted, we settled into an enjoyable weekend at home.

We played cooperative board games.

While we played, the snow fell softly, and in the dining room, we were surrounded by a snowy afternoon, which I love, even in March.

On Saturday night, we watched the excellent Michael Clayton, a 2007 movie about a world-weary lawyer (George Clooney) whose firm is mixed up with U-North, a company that makes a carcinogenic weed killer that kills people as well as weeds. (The resemblance to Monsanto is not a coincidence.) Unlike most environmental thrillers, the story focuses on the conversations between the lawyers—mostly men—and their reactions and decisions. In short, the story is told sideways. Without the wonderful cast and script, the movie would have landed with a thud. Instead, it soared. Such a good movie. If you haven’t seen it in a while, Michael Clayton is worth a rewatch. And if you’ve never seen the movie, well, do watch it.

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Sunday Morning

And lo and behold! On Sunday morning there was enough snow for  Snow-Gauge Clif to measure.

Three inches in the front yard.

Three inches in the backyard.

Will there be any snow for Snow-Gauge Clif to measure next week? Only the weather gods know.

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A Big Dose of Cute

In these uncute times, I have been looking for things to make me smile, and in doing so, I came upon Rico, a Brazilian porcupine who lives at the Cincinnati Zoo in Ohio. Like many people, I have mixed feeling about zoos. Even at their best, they can seem like jails for animals. But, dang, I enjoy seeing Rico on Youtube, and I expect zoo visitors enjoy seeing him in person. What I really like is to watch Rico eat, especially popcorn. (I am a huge popcorn fan.) In the video below, he is celebrating National Popcorn Day. I love his little claws, his puffy nose, and his black-bead eyes.  Somehow, I find it soothing to listen to those little crunching sounds he makes when he eats.

Chew on, Rico. Chew on.

 

Politics Friday: SignalGate

I’ve got to hand it to the Trump Administration—it provides plenty of fodder for writers. So much, in fact, that it’s hard to settle on one subject. Do I long for the boring days of the Biden presidency when it seemed as though there were long stretches of time when not much happened? Indeed I do. I’ve started writing a new book, Iris Starmoss: Elf Detective, and that novel is pulling at me the way all new stories do.

If I had a choice, I would not be living in these times, but as Gandalf noted in The Lord of the Rings, “So do all who live to see such times; but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

Therefore, onward to Trump and his not-so-merry Band of Incompetents. Already, many of their actions are harming Maine—cutting funding to libraries, cutting funding to food banks, denying an approved grant to our own Farmer Kev. The effects of this presidency are not abstract, happening to other folks in other states. Instead, they have come home to roost, and I expect this is true across the country.

However, for some reason, I keep coming back to what has become known as SignalGate, when Trump’s team, with a messaging app named Signal, used their phones to discuss an attack on Yemen. While Signal is considered reasonably secure for private use, it is not considered secure enough for governmental/military use. But there was Trump’s team, using Signal to discuss military strikes in Yemen. Who was on that Signal chat? Among them, Pete Hegseth, Secretary of Defense; J.D. Vance, Vice President; Marco Rubio, Secretary of State; Tulsi Gabbard, Director of National Intelligence; and Michael Waltz, National Security Advisor. You know, the big guys. The ones we trust to protect our country. And better yet, while in Moscow, Ukraine and Middle East envoy Steve Witkoff joined the discussion to bomb Yemen.

There was also somebody else included in that chat, none other than Jefferey Goldberg, editor-in-chief of The Atlantic, a magazine I subscribe to and like very much. You might be wondering why Jefferey Goldberg was added to that chat list.  I know I was. Goldberg and The Atlantic are no friends of the Trump Administration, and even if they were, it is unlikely that Goldberg would be involved in plans for an imminent military strike in Yemen.

It’s no surprise, then, that on March 13, when Goldberg discovered he had been included in a group chat with Trump officials, he at first thought it was a hoax. A reasonable suspicion. Then, on March 15, when Goldberg read the sensitive military operations being discussed, he stayed on for another two hours to see if what he was reading was correct. Yes, it was. Bombs and drones started attacking Yemen. Thereupon, Goldberg left the chat.

Of all the journalists and editors to pick for an unplanned leak, Trump’s team of Incompetents couldn’t have chosen anyone better—or worse from their point of view—than Goldberg. He, along with David Remnick from The New Yorker, are two of this country’s great editors leading two of the country’s best magazines. Not easily intimidated, they are erudite and confident. Best of all, they both have something that is sorely lacking in this administration—integrity.

Also, within journalistic circles, both are so well known that as soon as the story broke, all the major news outlets wanted to talk to Goldberg about the Signal farrago. And last week, Goldberg certainly made the rounds, explaining in his clear way what had happened.

To borrow from my British friends, that certainly set the cat among the pigeons. Trump and Co. have been spinning furiously—lying, denying, and trying to pin the blame on Goldberg. At one point, they even called him a spy. But as it turned out, on March 11, Goldberg had received a Signal connection request from Michael Waltz, which meant that the spy accusation lost its fizz.

Now they are trying to minimize the event, maintaining that since the results were good—Yemen was successfully bombed—this is all that matters in the end.

But somehow, at least for the moment, Trump and Co. have not been able to slither out of this one. Perhaps they will, but right now they are feeling the sting of their carelessness, and they look like fools.

I’m going to end with a famous quotation from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.

“They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”

That about describes it.

 

Au Revoir, Snow-Gauge Clif?

This post’s title should give a clue as to how much snow is in our yard. The answer? Not much. Just the tiniest clumps here and there in the shady parts of the yard.

Now for the grand totals.

The front yard:  0 inches

The backyard: 0 inches.

Just for fun, here’s a shot of the patio: All clear!

But even though the snow seems to be gone, Clif still has his snow gauge at the ready. Today, most of Maine is under a weather advisory with a forecast of up to five inches of snow in our area. So you never know. Next week, Snow-Gauge Clif just might be back to measure the snow.

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Last Wednesday, March 19, was a special day for Clif and me—we celebrated our forty-eighth wedding  anniversary. Really? Forty-eight years? We both agreed on how it seemed like a lot of years and not much time at all. Time is a funny thing, which is no doubt why I like to write about timey-wimey things in my novels. It always fascinates me how time is felt and how it actually passes. And what if we could go back in time? Hoo-boy, could we ever be ready for the future? I doubt it. Still, it’s fun, at least for me, to consider the possibilities.

After our daughter Dee got out of work for the day, we headed to Wei-Li in Auburn to have a tasty meal of Chinese food, a favorite cuisine for all of us.

Here we are, Ma & Pa, waiting for our food. When we met, my hair was almost black and darker than Clif’s, which was brown. Now, we seem to be a matched pair.

Soon our food came, and how good it was. We had rice, vegetable lo mein, and general tofu.

After all that good food, we were too full for dessert.

Now, onward to forty-nine years, and the year after that? Holy cats, fifty!

Hardly seems possible. Yet here we are, and I’m glad of it.

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Listening

NPR Tiny Desk Concert: Waxahatchee

I am a big fan of both alternative music and country/Americana. Waxahatchee, with its lead singer Katie Crutchfield, gives me both. I also like how her voice always seems to be on the edge of going out of control but never does. Finally, the sadness of the songs really speaks to me right now.

Politics Friday: Laying My Cards on the Table

I think bloggers are an effective way of disseminating independent news (with known limits of individual confirmation bias) across the world unlimited by geography.”

The above quotation came from one of the comments left by the blogger Forestwood. What really caught my attention was “known limits of individual confirmation bias.” According to britannica.com, confirmation bias is “a person’s tendency to process information by looking for, or interpreting, information that is consistent with their existing beliefs.”

Ah, yes. I suspect most of us are guilty of confirmation basis. I know I am drawn to publications and podcasts that have a particular slant. And what is that slant? I suspect long-time readers already know, but before going further with my Politics Friday posts, I thought it would be important to lay my cards on the table, as the saying goes, so that readers know exactly what my perspective is.

To begin…the United States is a two-party system with the Democrats and the Republicans vying for political office.  The winner is the winner, and there are no coalitions the way there are in most democracies, which seem far superior to our two-party system. But that is what we have, and wishful thinking won’t change it.  (There are Independents, who sometimes have success on a state-wide level. One of our senators, Angus King, is an Independent who caucuses with the Democrats. But Independents are an extreme minority. Currently there are only two in congress out of hundreds of senators and representatives.)

When I was young, way back in the 1960s, Democrats were considered the party of the working class and Republicans were thought to be the party of businesses and the upper class. However, this is an oversimplification as some Democrats were very conservative and some Republicans were liberal. (Richard Nixon, a Republican president, created the Environmental Protection Agency. Impossible to think of Republicans doing so today.)

Often, there were friendships and collaborations between  senators and representatives. Two Maine senators, George Mitchell, a Democrat, and William Cohen, a Republican, co-authored a book, Men of Zeal, A Candid Story of the Iran-Contra Hearings. Again, impossible to think of this happening today.

Then a split occurred, sometime in the 1990s with Republican Newt Gingrich’s scorched-earth politics, and the divide has only continued to grow.  Now, at least on camera, the two parties can barely contain their contempt for each other, and as far as I know, there are no books planned with Democrats and Republicans as co-authors.

This is a very simplified explanation of politics in the United States and is in no way complete. For those interested in our system, I would advise further reading.

Now, time to reveal my cards. I grew up in a working-class family and come from a long line of Democrats. Not that we didn’t jump parties occasionally when there were moderate Republicans running. My parents and I voted for William Cohen a number of times. But Democrats were who we were, my parents fairly conservative and me quite liberal. After all, I came of age in the 1970s, and they came of age in the 1950s. Still, we bumped along, and I don’t remember any political blow-outs.

As the years have progressed, I have grown ever more liberal. I believe there is a role for a strong central government whose mission should be to help those who are struggling and to provide services. I believe in capitalism, but I also believe it needs a lot of guardrails to prevent it from becoming exploitive. I read The New Yorker and The Atlantic. I listen to Ezra Klein and Pod Save America.

However, I have a strong respect, almost bordering on reverence, for facts, and I promise, despite my liberal bias, to stick to the facts. If I make a mistake, I will issue a correction. I will never lie to prove a point.

Finally, despite my aversion to Trump and Musk and to the rest of this administration, I strive always to come from a place of compassion. They are human beings, and while I wish they would leave this country alone, I do not wish for anything bad to happen to them or to their followers. Or their families.

So there it is. You now know my perspective.

Next week, onward to issues of the day.

It’s M-e-l-t-i-n-g…

Fans of The Wizard of Oz—the movie rather than the book—will understand the title’s reference.  But rather than the Wicked Witch of the West, it’s snow that’s melting.

Before we get to Snow-Gauge Clif, let’s take a look at the patio in the backyard. Time was when we hoped for the patio to be clear by April 22, Earth Day and my younger daughter’s birthday. Barring a nor’easter (more about that latter), the snow will be long gone by April 22.

And what has the temperature been? For this time of year in Maine,  pretty darned warm. No wonder the snow is melting away.

Here is Snow-Gauge Clif in the backyard. Snow measurement: 1 inch. Last week, it was 7 inches. There’s quite a bit of sun in the backyard and that, combined with the warmer temps, takes care of the snow.

In the front yard, not so much. The measurement is pretty much the same as it was last week: 12 inches. But rain is in the forecast for the next few days, and I expect it will whittle the snow away.

One thing I am grateful for is that our new driveway is not in the least bit  muddy. I had wondered if it would be, but when my brother  saw it several months ago, he told me that he thought it would be fine come spring.  And so it is.

The backyard, on the other hand, is mostly mud. Here is a print of one of Snow-Gauge Clif’s Sloggers. The mud is so thick it’s almost a-pull-off-your-Slogger kind of event when we walk in the backyard. Hope it dries up soon.

I’m tempted to state that Snow-Gauge Clif’s job is almost done for the year, but when I looked back at my blog for March/April 2024, I saw that we had a nor’easter last April that left us with a foot of snow. The storm knocked out our power and brought us smack-dab back to winter. Here is a picture from last April.

Therefore, as the old saying goes, it’s best not to count our chickens before they’ve hatched. We might get another doozy of a storm in April. Then again, we might not.

Only Mother Nature knows for sure.

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Watching

The movie Black Bag

Directed by Steven Soderbergh

Staring, very elegantly, Cate Blanchett and Michael Fassbender, who surely are one of the coolest spy couples ever.

This movie, clocking in at a brisk 90 minutes, is a delight from beginning to end. Intelligence officers Kathryn (Cate Blanchett) and George (Michael Fassbender) are a married couple. When the movie begins, George receives intelligence that there is someone in the agency who is leaking top-secret information, and one of the suspects is his wife, Kathryn. George then proceeds to unravel the mystery of who is leaking the information, and a cat and mouse game ensues. This movie is a sheer delight. Every piece fits beautifully to come together as a satisfying whole. If you like spy-thriller movies, don’t miss Black Bag.

 

 

For Czeslawa: Introducing Politics Friday

Ever since Trump was elected, I have been floundering with this blog as I debate whether or not I should write about politics. I did not conceive of Notes from the Hinterland as a blog to be centered on politics. Instead, I wanted it to be focused on rural life as well as what I listened to, read, and watched. I was afraid that writing about politics after so many years of blogging—over ten  years, I think—would be jarring. From reading the comments, I know that many of you follow Notes from the Hinterland for its calming effects as I record the changing of the seasons and the goings-on in central Maine. Because of this, when I returned to blogging after an extended break, I decided it would be business as usual with my blog.

Except it’s not business as usual in this country. Far from it. Even readers who don’t live in the United States understand the chaos and down-right cruelty of the Trump administration. Good friends of the United States, such as Canada, have been insulted and threatened with tariffs. In Maine, this hits particularly hard as the state has a 611-mile border with Canada. Many Mainers are of Canadian descent. Indeed, all of my immediate ancestors, going back five generations, come from Canada—Québec on my mother’s side, Prince Edward Island on my father’s. In northern Maine, there are families that span both sides of the border.

In the face of all this chaos, I have been going back and forth. Should I write about politics and thus change the vibe of this blog? Or stick with what I have been doing?

But then yesterday, in Timothy Snyder’s Substack—Thinking About…—I read an essay by Laurie Winer. In “What to Expect When You’re Expecting Catastrophe”, she writes:

The debate about whether or not we should bring Hitler or Nazism or fascism into a contemporary political debate is obsolete. Now it is crucial that we take seriously the warnings gathered for us by survivors and writers. When you look at a photo of a Jew about to be arrested or shot and he or she is staring straight into the camera, remember that it is you they are looking at.

That paragraph certainly caught my attention. Coincidentally, I just took out a book, The Rest is Memory, from the library. This novel, by Lily Tuck, imagines the life of a real Polish girl named Czeslawa Kwoka who in 1942 was transported to Auschwitz and photographed. Fourteen years old on arrival, she was dead three months later.

Here is Czeslawa’s picture featured on the book’s jacket.

Polish photographer Wilhelm Brasse, who was also a prisoner at Auschwitz, took this photo.

Yes, it does seem as though she is looking at me. The fact that Czeslawa was Catholic rather than Jewish matters not at all. She was killed in a murderous rampage that stretched across Europe and took millions of lives of people deemed inferior—Jews, Catholics, Romas, gays, the elderly, and handicapped folks.

Winer’s words coupled with Czeslawa’s picture tipped the scales. Even though I am the tiniest of fish in a vast ocean, I can read, and I can write. In these times, not to write seems wrong somehow. so write I will—on my blog, on Facebook, to politicians.

Going forward, my blog will have two posts each week. On Mondays, I’ll write about the seasons and the Maine hinterland. On Fridays, it will be politics. Those who prefer not to read about politics can skip Friday’s post.

This decision feels right. Politics Friday is dedicated to Czeslawa, who never had a chance to grow up, whose sad, wan face stares out at us—at me—from across the years. A message and a warning.

To Czeslawa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No Escape

Dreary March has come to central Maine. We are in a no-man’s land between winter and spring, a time of dirty snow, fog, and gray skies.

On the other hand, northern Maine, the land of my ancestors, is still in winter’s firm grip. Last weekend, they got a foot of snow, and the drifting was so bad some roads had to be closed. Ah, winter! However, in a few weeks, March will come for them, too. In Maine there is no escape.

Behold the end of our driveway and across the road, both of which scream March.

Dirty snow or not, Snow-Gauge Clif must do his job.

In the front yard, the snow measured 17 inches, only 1 inch down from last week. The front yard is very shaded, and the snow melts slowly.

On the other hand, the sunnier backyard measured 7 inches, 5 inches down from last week.  More sun, quicker melt.

To cheer myself up from the March blahs, last Wednesday I headed to the little town of Wayne—population 1,189 and named after Revolutionary War General Anthony Wayne—to A Small Town Bakery. On Wednesdays, a group of women meets to discuss matters big and small, and it’s so nice to get together with like-minded folks. Plus, I seem to be addicted to the bakery’s blueberry muffins. (Sorry, no picture! Next time.)

The bakery has a funky, mismatched, comfortable look that reminds me of bakeries in the 1970s. It’s a look that I’m fond of and brings back memories of my teenage years.

And I absolute love these chickens.

If my house didn’t already have an—ahem—abundance of ornaments, those chickens would be coming home with me. I can almost hear them clucking to each other.

But fear not. I didn’t come home empty handed. I brought back a loaf of the bakery’s utterly delicious anadama bread, a New England specialty. I could have a slice right now. Toasted, of course.

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Last week also brought something not quite as pleasant as bread and blueberry muffins. I had my annual sinus infection that for some odd reason usually arrives in March. It’s as though my body is mourning the end of winter and the beginning of purgatory. The infection begins gradually with the aching of teeth and then progresses to a painful throbbing that comes and goes in waves. No fun, but as it always goes away by itself in a week or so, I don’t bother with antibiotics. Don’t want to overuse them.

I mention this because I inadvertently found a method to relieve the pain, and I thought I would share it here with those who might not know about this method. (Took me sixty-seven years to figure it out.)

One night, when the wave of pain was bad enough so that I could not fall asleep, I decided to to do some deep breathing to focus on something else. To my astonishment, the pain went away. When the pain came back five or so minutes later, I did some more deep breathing. Again, the pain went away.  I did this off and on until I finally fell asleep.

The next day, I thought, what the heck. Is deep breathing really a solution to the pain brought on by sinus infections? To Google I went, and sure enough, it is. Also, headaches, too, which fortunately I seldom have.

So there you have it. An easy and natural remedy for sinus infection pain. Obviously, some infections must be treated by antibiotics, and it’s up to individuals to decide if treatment is necessary. But for me, who has a history of sinus infections and know that they go away on their own, the deep breathing method is a godsend. I only wish I had known about it sooner.

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Listening

What better way to say a sad farewell to winter than with Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song”? (Remember, I’m a child of the 70s and a huge Led Zeppelin fan.)

I come from the lands of the ice and snow…where the harsh winds blow.

 

 

A Weekend of Drinks, Food, and Movies, and the Return of Snow-Gauge Clif

For some reason, last weekend turned out to be a flurry of having friends over and eating out.

Our merriment started on Friday afternoon when we invited our friends Dawna and Jim over for wine and appetizers.

We tried to solve the problems of the world as we sat around the dining room table, sipped wine, and nibbled on appetizers, but of course we didn’t have much luck.

As we talked, our jade plant glowed in the sun. Clearly, Jade was on our side. She, too, wonders what the heck is going on in this country.

On Saturday morning, we headed to Waterville to the Maine Film Center for the Nigerian movie Mami Wata, the final movie in the wintertime film series Cinema Explorations.

This wonderful movie is set in a remote African village where the water deity Mami Wata is revered even though she is mostly absent. When a stranger is washed up on the shores, the power balance shifts, leading to conflict and death. This fable of a movie was filmed in an impressionistic way, which adds to the power of the story. What a fine way to end the film series!

To celebrate the successful film series, our friend Joel, who coordinates Cinema Explorations, joined us for brunch at one of my favorite restaurants, Front and Main.

I had some delicious ployes, Acadian buckwheat pancakes popular in northern Maine. Front and Main makes ployes a little thicker than is traditional. but my, my, they were tasty.

Then, on Sunday, to kick off the Academy Awards ceremony, we went to Tj’s Place in Winthrop for drinks, snacks, and pizza.

I had a pomegranate martini, and it was excellent.

Clif ordered onion rings, which he said were properly cooked and delicious. (Dee and I aren’t fans of onion rings.)

We also had pizza.

Afterwards, full of food and drink, we headed home to await the start of the Academy Awards ceremony. Two of our favorite movies—Flow (go Latvia!) and I‘m Still Here (go, Brazil!)—garnered awards. Best picture of the year went to Anora, a film about an exotic dancer. It was not our favorite movie of the year. We all felt that it lacked nuance and focused too much on the explicit sex. Granted, the subject lends itself to this treatment, but didn’t Anora have any other qualities or interests that didn’t involve sex? Say, model trains or mahjong? It seems not. Ah, well…we were apparently in a minority about this movie.

Still, all in all, it was a good night for independent films, small movies with relatively small budgets, and we are always in for those kind of movies.

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And Now the Moment You’ve All Been Waiting for…the Return of Snow-Gauge Clif

Longtime readers of this blog always look forward to the first Monday in March, which brings the return of Snow-Gauge Clif (aka my husband, Clif). Each Monday, Snow-Gauge Clif will grab his trusty red yardstick to head outside and measure the depth of the snow. He’ll continue to do so until all the snow is melted, usually sometime in April.

Here he is, on March 3, this first Monday in March, in the front yard.

Snow measurement: 18 inches

And here he is in the backyard, which gets more sun than the front yard.

Measurement: 12 inches

Will the snow be gone by the beginning of April, or will it be gone by the end? We never know the answer to this nail-biting question. Each year is different. So stay tuned for the Monday adventures of Snow-Gauge Clif.

Some Thoughts on Shadows

In Maine, we have moved from deep winter to late winter and will soon be approaching the purgatory that is mid-March. But we still have a few weeks to go until purgatory, and in the meantime winter reigns, that time of shadows on the snow. How I love to see the shadows in our backyard.

The way the slats from the fence register on the snow,

the way the blue shadows stripe the yard,

and the way the dark shadows fill the woods.

Such a beautiful season, and even though staying warm is expensive, I never wish for winter to hurry into spring. Each year, I  welcome winter with a glad heart and am always renewed by this still, cold season that encourages a person to turn inward.

While we don’t want to turn inward indefinitely—we need spring and the exuberant return to life—winter, for me at least, is a necessary time to examine personal shadows and try to come to terms with them.

If this sounds very Jungian, well, it is. Years ago, I blasted through the books of the late, great Canadian writer Robertson Davies, who was a great admirer of Carl Jung, author and psychiatrist, among other things. If I remember correctly, Davies maintained that Jung, with his emphasis on the unconscious, was the patron saint of artists, all of whom, one way or another, dig deep into the unconsciousness to produce art. The deeper the dive, the greater the art. (By art, I mean art in general, which includes literature, dance, music, theater, and, yes, movies.)

Therefore, as I am surrounded by the shadows of winter, I settle in to read and think and write.

Spring will come soon enough.

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Listening

Bob Dylan: “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall

Bob Dylan, a musician who has been much in the news because of the bio pic A Complete Unknown, certainly dug deep to write his songs. “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” beautifully illustrates this.