The Damp

    The Midwest might not be as cold as Siberia, but I'm sure the misery index is much higher. It seems as though the wind never stops and it has the audacity to rain at the temperature of Thirty degree's Fahrenheit,,, most of the time. Fog and drizzle from sun up to sun down, not that you could tell if those celestial events had occurred. It was dark or very near dark until about my third jar of tea and became the same during my afternoon snack, until finally the sun gave up its fight and was extinguished by the dampness of the Middle West. It was a day such as this when the Thurgieans landed

Hobbit's have it so good.

On dark winter days I get nostalgic for the shire, for days spent lollygagging around the hill, and wandering down to the Green Dragon at the end of the day; Tolkien took a photo for me, and I'll always remember it this way.