In the eighteenth century did you really have to be reminded that you were going to die? It seems as though managing to occasionally forget it would be a more difficult task.
I am a native in this world And think in it as a native thinks
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blog Archive
-
▼
2011
(226)
-
▼
July
(44)
- Sunday bird blogging
- Saturday reflections
- Welcome to the working week
- Sunday bird blogging
- Saturday geometries
- Welcome to the working week
- Sunday bird blogging
- Saturday geometries
- Welcome (back) to the working week
- Sunday bird blogging
- Faces of Glasgow
- Glasgow
- Microclimates
- Wild kingdom
- Coach House
- A not-so-hairy coo
- Oh that magic feeling -- nowhere to go
- Under the rainbow
- Ye'll take the high road, and I'll take the low road
- I fart in your general direction
- Baby coos
- At last, the coos!
- Old growth
- Lakes and lochs
- Lunch
- The heather on the hill
- The Hairy Coo
- This too
- This cracked me up
- Autonomous
- Salisbury crags
- Gully cleaning
- Georgie Boy
- Chimneys plus
- Chim chiminee
- Nor Loch
- Back to the really important things
- Momento mori
- St Cuthbert's Burial Ground
- Haggis
- Obligatory castle photos
- Sunday bird blogging
- Edinburgh
- Saturday geometries
-
▼
July
(44)
No comments:
Post a Comment