A slow horse has miles to go . . .

Sunday, March 8, 2026. It's Sol's day. . . Forecasts for TulseyTown indicate a lovely Spring with moderate Southerlies, sunny skies and mid 70's.

Generosity isn’t giving away all your material possessions; it is the mind being joyful and wanting to give. It is making an effort to give; it is going out of your way to be able to do it with your own efforts. – Geshe Sopa

Today is International Women’s Day (IWD), day (March 8) honouring the achievements of women and promoting women’s rights. A national holiday in numerous countries, it has been sponsored by the United Nations (UN) since 1975.

There is a contagion of violence in the world; it’s spreading like a disease. But grace is also contagious. – Shane Claiborne, “Choosing Grace Not Violence,” in Meditations, at The Center for Action and Contemplation.

Trump: It ain't gonna happen. – Washington Post: Intelligence report.

One of the pioneers of creative nonfiction, John McPhee is 95 today. The Pulitzer Prize writer was born in 1931 Princeton, New Jersey.

Today is also the birthdate of novelist Kenneth Grahame. The author of Wind in the Willows was born in 1859 Edinburgh, Scotland.

“The Last Great Race” kicks off this weekend, so Alaskans are gathering for the Iditarod. For the Lower 48ers reading, the Iditarod is a 50-year-old competition where dog mushers and their teams race from Anchorage to Nome through 1,000 miles of the Bush. It is a celebration of the endurance of Alaskan spirit. Officially, the race kicks off in Willow, Alaska today — they say the course is roughly 1,049 miles (fitting as Alaska is the 49th state).

And, yesterday, in 1923 Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” was published in The New Republic magazine.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

– Robert Frost. This poem is in the public domain.