All Purls. No Swine.
Well, it's NCAA basketball time again. I know this only because I turned on the TV the other night, and there it was. I watch very few current programs, so I am always somewhat peeved when the event I've planned my evening around disappears, especially when it is replaced by something so absurd as a… Continue reading “Historia Calamitatum”
Thomas Herbert Mapson was my Auntie Betty’s father. (Strictly speaking, she wasn’t my auntie–being my great-grandmother’s niece–and her given name wasn’t Betty–they were Jenny Alice May–but “close enough for gubmint work,” as they say. He was born and baptized in Bilston, Staffordshire in the UK, on July 4, 1878. Given what I’ve found out about my… Continue reading In Memory, Thomas Herbert Mapson
There surely must be a horticultural corollary to the well-known maxim, generally attributed to Winston Churchill, that “a woman’s skirt should be long enough to cover the subject and short enough to be interesting.” And it has to do with “ground covers,” those low-growing, fast-spreading plants that (one hopes) form an attractive carpet, especially in… Continue reading Covering New Ground
The title of this post may look like rather esoteric, bluestocking, or even erotic clickbait, but there’s nothing to that theory. It’s not a feminist take on the story of poor Peter Abelard, and no guy ends up minus an essential piece of equipment at the end of it. No. It’s just a rumination on one… Continue reading Occasional Quote of the Day: “Historia Calamitatum”