Please visit our friend Angevoix, over at Inexpugnable and see the latest news on Mrs. King's funeral. You'll be outraged, if you're not already. Or, at least you should.
You know, I'm really wanting to take a break from all this high-strung political stuff for a while and I will soon. I'd like to wax rhapsodic about the dying days of a mild Winter and the birthing of my 43rd Spring. I'd like not to be so concerned about our nation and the direction we're headed, or the state of the Church. And yet, I am.
And so, to go along with the outrage that I'm sharing from Angevoix's site, I'll also share a neat little uplifting blurb from Thoreau's Walking.
I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks, who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering; which word is beautifully derived "from idle people who roved about the country, in the middle ages, and asked charity, under pretence of going à la sainte terre"—to the holy land, till the children exclaimed, "There goes a sainte-terrer", a saunterer—a holy-lander.
Shall we all go for a saunter?