It’s Mother’s Day, which to me is sort of like Memorial Day in that it signals the start of summer. You see, most of the local colleges here hold their graduations this weekend, which means that for the next three months, their libraries will be bereft of everyone except for the usual band of hardy summer school students and the stray researcher or two like myself. That means I’m free to my heart’s content to sit at a table and pore over the Close Rolls without having four undergraduates at the next table chattering about their social lives and stealing glances at me from time to time, evidently in the belief that a book so old and so big must be some sort of occult material. Bliss!
There’s a new poll on the sidebar. Vote for your favorite Wars of the Roses Mum!
Over at Alianore’s blog, she has a great post about a couple of recent novels and their historical accuracy (or lack thereof). Check it out.
I’ve been derelict in the blogging department this week, I’m afraid, so other than the new seasonally themed poll, you’ll have to be content with this offering: some of my very own poetry, circa 1968. (Bear in mind that I was in the single digits at the time.)
For this is the day,
For all mother dears!
Yay! Yay! Yay!