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hale-maher.bsky.social
Retired theatre teacher, amateur mad scientist, scribbler about the arts, sciences, cooking, music, & a protector of birds. 🏳️‍🌈
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Now ’tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now, and they’ll o’ergrow the garden, And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.

Today is LC's (CD's) birthday, and I can think of few books besides Alice's Adventures and Looking-Glass that are so, every read, eternally startling (and fun) (and seriously weird).

“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.” ― A.A. Milne, who was born #OTD in 1882

After reading about the passing of David Lynch, one of my favorite directors, I started following everyone and anyone who knew him, worked with him, or was affected by him. I've discovered it's the best Blue Sky system to follow new people, people I never would have run across, ever. RIP David Lynch

Legend says the birds held a contest to see who could fly highest and become king. The eagle soared higher than all, but a clever wren, hidden in his feathers, flew higher when the eagle tired. The tiny wren outsmarted them all & so became the “King of the Birds”. #FolkloreSunday

Finally a kid without phone

Today in the news...

“What I like doing best is Nothing,” said Christopher Robin. “How do you do Nothing?” asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time. “It means just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.” “Oh!” said Pooh. ~A.A.Milne

In Greenland, as we speak.

Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas everyone. (My mother made this Christmas stocking for me when I was two back in 1960)

Good morning

🎨 Salvador Dali Christmas card - Noel 1948.

Season greetings from Charles Addams and me. 

I was 2 in 1960 when my parents bought this tiny wooden Nativity scene. My favorite toy at that time was this small plastic blue car. Apparently I insisted it needed to be in the scene. 50 years later my mother gave me this Nativity scene, replete with the plastic blue car. I miss my parents.

A story that begins with a corpse on the floor is a mystery. A story that ends with a corpse on the floor is a tragedy. A story that begins with a floor on a corpse is The Wizard of Oz.

Minimalism at its best by @stianklo.bsky.social

I like handwritten letters. I like pouring my feelings onto paper, into words a little slanted, a little smudged from when my hand shook as I wrote them down, a polygraph of my heart. If flowers can be pressed, so can feelings — into paragraphs, into ‘—yours truly,’ into a name.

Photo of all the workers who have spent the last five years restoring the Notre Dame Cathedral.

Winter Dream

I love footnotes man

Hey look. Shoeshi

The artist Carol Hummel knit bombs trees.

🎨 Erin Hanson - November Pines.

can’t stop thinking about this Mary Oliver poem 🥹

I've lived in my home for 20 years now. The complex recently changed trash providers & today the old service picked up my old recycling & trash cans hauling them away. A third of my life has been recycled or tossed away in those cans. I already miss them.

My sister & I grew up in a place called Bishop California living a very Huck Finn kind of life. This photo is of my sister, Marcy, leading our shetland pony, Smokey, across the lawn. I'm the lazy kid stretched out on the pony's back.

My short story submission rejection letter. And so it goes...