notes from Leuven

That's where I am.

Leuven.

At least one person admitted to me that s/he had no idea where Leuven was. For the rest of you who don't know - whether or not you'll admit it: it's in Belgium. It's gorgeous. A very cool town - a university town that does not appear to share the sheer excess of whatever-it-is that students seem to imbibe so much of in so many other university towns.

Granted, there's a fair amount of bier trinken that goes on (this very town is the home of Stella Artois, after all), but there's also a goodly amount of serious attention to scholarly matters. Not to mention evidence of attention to some serious building and design projects over the years: you should see the Town Hall!

My favorite is Fonske - a statue of a gnomish student reading and pouring a glass of liquid into his head. I understand his full name is Fons Sapientiae, Latin for "fountain of wisdom", but I'll just bet you that that's beer we're talkin' about, here. . . .

All right, all right. I don't have a camera with me, but here's a picture of him I snagged off the internet.

Here's a close-up of the lad.What do you think - bier? or wisdom?

In any event, he's very cool.

This, from a country that also has one Mannequin Pis. But that's another story. (By the way, that's the Town Hall in the background of the first Fonske picture - oops, no it isn't! That's the Cathedral. I'll see if I can't find a picture of the Town Hall, which stands just next to the Cathedral, for next time. If you don't want to wait, click on the Leuven link above. As I recall, there is a picture of the Town Hall there, on Wikipedia.)

Till next time!

mail call

Walking to the mail box is a big deal these days. Luther likes it. (Run! Leap! Play!) The king likes it (unless all we get in the mailbox is junkmail or bills). I like it ('cause it's pretty).

And I like to get mail.

Please send mail.

laird Luther a'leaping

You have no idea what this guy looks like, running 'balls-out' . . . .

It is an amazing sight.

M.I.A.

Last seen strolling out the front door of the tower, confidently [or obliviously] ignoring importunings to return inside.

sigh.

Well, we knew she'd have to begin the outdoor exploration sometime. We would have delayed exploration for a few days more, but just hope she makes it back. She's been gone, now, a full 24 hours.

I try not to think about the red fox we saw - two days ago - trotting across our front pasture.

I try not to think about the possibility that she may not come home.

I try not to think about whether it is better to find her little body or to never know whether she made her way to another home, or is hungry, cold, frightened. . . .

Right. We're not thinking about that. Remember?

Come home Pookie. Even Luther misses you - alright, we know Luther misses you - but even we [could be said to] miss the crazy going's on of the daily hiss-bat-and-bark evening show. After a fashion.

sigh. There's no easy exit to life, is there? Even for a 16-year old cat.

light and boxes

The early morning sun at the front of the house is really beautiful.Maybe if I keep my eyes on the light, I'll be able to overlook the many boxes still littering the inside landscape.
Then again, maybe not. When the sun gets over those trees, it's downright bright! I retreat towards the back of the house.

Where the boxes are.



Not a pretty sight. Let's look at the sun a little longer, before it pops over the trees.
Classic avoidance technique? Or admirable attitude of gratitude and appreciation of gratuitous beauty? You decide. I already have.