Inaugural Post

E.B. White once wrote a reader of Charlotte's Web, "All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world."

E.B. White has said a lot of things that I love.  And lately, well before the sun rises, I get up to begin the day with his words.   I sneak away from a sleeping husband and similar child by flashlight's ray with "Essays of E.B. White" in hand, sit on the livingroom leather loveseat (big enough for me and two dogs I've come to be surprised), and place a warm blanket around my shoulders.  And with these things, dogs, and persons in place, I sink back in time.  Sometimes to a 1956 Allen Cove, Maine farmhouse with a Crawford 8-20 woodstove in the kitchen.  At others to an Autumn 1947 pighouse where I pray, despite the odds, that one small pig will triumph.  Whereever I am, I am in the company of a friend, someone who saw that small events can be just as consequential as large ones, universal in their themes.  Someone who lets me know by his observance of raccoons in trees or dachsunds on a snow bermed, covered fence that all, no matter the sadness life brings, is well.

I've been thinking.  If E.B. White can tell the world through his books that he loved the world I can tell a few people the same through this very small blog.

But, for right now, this blog is for one lover (me) of the simple and afficianado of small beauty, whereever it may be, second tree from the mailbox, second white birch from the dogyard and chicken coop, second hump from McHugh Peak's winds.  .

To small blogs and small things and the world that I love...