sunnudagur, desember 20, 2009

í fjösinu

Little, shaggy, and about six of them, all milling about. Actually little, even á íslenskum mælikvarða, with heads no higher than mine. It was warm inside, as you'd expect.

föstudagur, desember 11, 2009


It's freezing out -- not the adjective but the present progressive. The fallen leaves at the edges of the road are getting rimey, hoary, paperish. If only I rise early enough tomorrow, I will have the pleasure of crunching them underfoot like a colossus bent on long-prophesied destruction, like a vintner squeezing from his crop the juice of a winter wine.

If I feel guilt afterwards, I will make a note to pour a libation on the roots of the maple on the windward side of the house.

þriðjudagur, desember 08, 2009

hvítt, svart

It's a matter of practicality: You ice the white halves first, or a little more than half, because the dark half should overlap. Ice them first and then take the remaining icing back to the boiler and pop the chocolate in. (You see now the practical aspect, yes?) Put in some cocoa, too; that makes it even darker. Go back and ice the other halves. Let them overlap just a bit. Let it set. Seal them in a box so the mice don't get at them in the middle of the night.

Sleep. Even with the curtains open, you will not be troubled by the moonlight. It is waning from full.

Wake to find snow falling on the streets, white on black.
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