Wood and Beaver

I'm wearing myself too thin,"like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can't be right. I need a change, or something," (FotR, 41). I pulled another all-night study session a few days ago. I had a terrifying test in Classical Latin to prepare for, including writing two essays that I should have written prior to that night. Perhaps one day I shall learn that procrastination (lit.= "the act of tomorrow-ing forth") is never as beneficial as a slower, constant, steady pace.

On my way to drop Bree off at a friend's, so I could have a couple of hours of concentrated studying without worrying about her, I saw that a tree-branch that had been girdled (and the girth had been getting increasingly thinner) by a beaver had finally fallen down. Once down, the rest of the bark had been completely stripped. I thought that was pretty cool. Another testament that patiently working on a difficult project eventually provides a lot of tough, fibrous arboreal cortex to enjoy without interruption. Words to live by.

branches ache for light
they stretch up through frozen earth
yearning for sunshine