I was experimenting with new programs.

He's blushing!

Kay Ryan

Who would be a turtle who could help it?

A barely mobile hard roll, a four-oared helmet,

she can ill afford the chances she must take

in rowing toward the grasses that she eats.

Her track is graceless, like dragging

a packing-case places, and almost any slope

defeats her modest hopes. Even being practical,

she's often stuck up to the axle on her way

to something edible. With everything optimal,

she skirts the ditch which would convert

her shell into a serving dish. She lives

below luck-level, never imagining some lottery

will change her load of pottery to wings.

Her only levity is patience,

the sport of truly chastened things.

And what can I do to improve it?

Who is she? Where is she? This was originally a photograph but then I added a cool effect.

She's into anime...

The original screencast of this blog, back when it had no posts a year ago. How things have changed!

This is an all original tune I created, so please don’t steal it (although I would be flattered if you did think it was good enough!). I think it could be the official jingle for Blog for Joy. If you know how to play piano, play it and see!

Here’s a blanket my mom crocheted for me. She used all different designs, and even added a border. She bought the yarn in a big ball at Michael’s. I keep it on my bed every night. J

For all you superstitious folks, it's Friday the thirteenth! Boo!

Anyway, I'm going to add my favorite excerpts of Dylan Thomas 's poem, Poem in October, since the original is too long:

      "My birthday began with the water-

Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name   

      Above the farms and the white horses

                  And I rose   

            In rainy autumn

And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.

High tide and the heron dived when I took the road

            Over the border

                  And the gates

      Of the town closed as the town awoke.

      "A springful of larks in a rolling

Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling   

      Blackbirds and the sun of October

                  Summery

            On the hill’s shoulder,

Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly   

Come in the morning where I wandered and listened   

            To the rain wringing

                  Wind blow cold

      In the wood faraway under me.

     " Pale rain over the dwindling harbour

And over the sea wet church the size of a snail   

      With its horns through mist and the castle   

                  Brown as owls

            But all the gardens

Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales   

Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.   

            There could I marvel

                  My birthday

      Away but the weather turned around.

      "It turned away from the blithe country

And down the other air and the blue altered sky   

      Streamed again a wonder of summer

                  With apples

            Pears and red currants

And I saw in the turning so clearly a child’s

Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother   

            Through the parables

                  Of sun light

      And the legends of the green chapels "