Single Malts - and other odd Musings

When Day is Done




‘When Day is Done’ by Edgar Guest (1881-1959)

When day is done and I reach my gate,
I come to a realm where there is no hate,
For here, whatever my worth may be,
Are those who cling to their faith in me;
And with love on guard at my humble door,
I have all that the world has struggled for.





Christmas Day






 But, soft! what light through yon window breaks?

the lower picture with phrase would be in parenthesis if I could

The Village


though a far cry from Russia - this makes me think of Vanka

Christmas Eve Day at Black Hill


we do a lot of the decorating for Christmas on this day - hectic but tradition


Getting The Tree - III







After cutting the white pine I walked back to pay Ken, then drove around the field, loaded my holiday tree and drove a stately 25 mph the approximately 10 miles home to Black Hill.

Getting The Tree - II


Looking back toward the sales building (upper right) where I parked, chatted with the new owner's son, then checked out some trees on another lot beyond the building and across the road, then walked out here to the higher ground and spent some time deciding on the tree for this year/


Getting The Tree


usually get a tree here - over Colora way - the original owner who I dealt with for years died in 2016 at just a few months over 100 years - an inspiration to all of us I believe

Countries looking at my blog as we speak - or is it, 'as we blog'



Grand Countries looking at my blog at the moment:

United States
France
Portugal
Peru
Ukraine
Germany
United Kingdom
Mexico
Thailand