Slow Monday

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Surely I'm not the only person who remembers the Harlan Ellison column in which he spun great Catherine wheels of rhetoric, verbal sparks flying every which way, hissing and spitting into the night air only to reveal after enormous verbification that . . . he had nothing to say.

Well, I'm not quite there yet. So rather than admit defeat I'm going to say that, today being Martin Luther King day, Marianne and I went far, far away from human society to Bombay Hook, there to look at tundra swans and harrier hawks, buffleheads and maybe just maybe three eagles, and on the way home a pregnant coyote (in Delaware!) which saw us and watched us warily even as she walked steadily into the reeds and out of sight.

All of which is tantamount to saying that, yes, I've posted today as I promised to do every Monday, and here's the proof of it; but the substance of the matter will be posted tomorrow.

Tomorrow: The long awaited explication and explanation of my bottled stories! Don't miss it.

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