This is my annual notice to all friends and family regarding my Christmas cards. If you would like to get a card AND I know you personally (not just a facebook friend, blog lurker, etc) send me your address. If you got a card last year and haven’t moved, you’re good. If not, let me know. And I always appreciate a card in return!
From the Thanksgiving weekend, here are shots of my spirit peak, the waxing moon, our pumpkins before they left for the old folk’s home and a group of evening grosbeaks that we don’t often see.
Photos of the Lamy Day of the Dead celebration on 10/30. Posted Nov. 22… Mike’s BDay!
Another round of snow and an answer to a mystery. For the last few weeks, a large hole has appeared under our bird feeder. Same place, same size. Our neighbors spotted a badger a few weeks ago, so I thought I’d put out the game camera to see if I could catch the wild excavator. It wasn’t a badger.
I want to give a shout-out to a web site I’ve been following since 2001.
Metafilter.com is a wonderfully diverse online community whose members post “the best of the web”. It’s been my favorite online community for over 20 years.
Along with the main page, there are subsites like AskMefi where you can ask members questions, Fanfare to follow Movies and TV, Music where members post their latest songs and more. And it’s all moderated so trolls, hucksters and derails are quickly deleted… a rarity in social media.
The one-time $5 membership fee along with ad revenue, hasn’t been enough to keep up with the site’s growth. Take a look and if it appeals to you, consider joining and/or donating. For more about Mefi, check out the FAQ .
You can find me at https://www.metafilter.com/user/10362
By John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Odds and ends, sunsets and birds that have been collecting on the desktop.
And this year’s pumpkins.
