patterns of ink
How fruitless to be ever thinking yet never embrace a thought... to have the power to believe and believe it's all for naught. I, too, have reckoned time and truth (content to wonder if not think) in metaphors and meaning and endless patterns of ink. Perhaps a few may find their way to the world where others live, sharing not just thoughts I've gathered but those I wish to give. Tom Kapanka
About Me
- Name: .Tom Kapanka
- Location: Lake Michigan Shoreline, Midwest, United States
By Grace, I'm a follower of Christ. By day, I'm a recently retired school administrator; by night (and always), I'm a husband and father (and now a grandfather); and by week's end, I sometimes find myself writing or reading in this space. Feel free to join in the dialogue.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
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Update: Friday PM.
Speaking of
re-MIND-ers, I sometimes forget that SNOW knows no calendar in Michigan's and often wears out its welcome in early spring. (It snowed last Easter, too, and that was two weeks later.)
.
The opening sentence of this post was true. Yesterday was a sunny day with only remnants of snow where the piles had been all winter, but today a heavy snow fell steadily from noon to night. It was still coming down as I shoveled the driveway after dinner. Six inches and counting. (Last Saturday, I put the snow blower away for the year.)
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