Thursday, September 18, 2008
FROM MORNING DRIVE JOURNAL
SEPTEMBER 19, 2002
A little rain last night, beads on the windows. As my song says, "A little's a lot, a lot, Oh Lord, when nothing's what you've got."
Ir's a lovely, warm morning; in spite of the greyness, more summer today than autumn. It's a wonderful world.
A few miles north of Fairwater, a smear of mud on the road where equipment has pulled out of the wet field, there where the beans have been taken. As proof that gloom is not doom, it's a hey hey greyness today.
SEPTEMBER 19, 2002
A little rain last night, beads on the windows. As my song says, "A little's a lot, a lot, Oh Lord, when nothing's what you've got."
Ir's a lovely, warm morning; in spite of the greyness, more summer today than autumn. It's a wonderful world.
A few miles north of Fairwater, a smear of mud on the road where equipment has pulled out of the wet field, there where the beans have been taken. As proof that gloom is not doom, it's a hey hey greyness today.
