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a life incredible, vivid, excellent.

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  • Home
  • innocence explained
  • adventures arranged
    • photography
      • ardent spirits
        • summer’s last light
        • wistful autumn
        • tattered winter
      • brother sister
        • messes of men
        • the dryness and the rain
        • yellow spider
      • covert operatives
        • the spy who stayed out in the cold
        • TTSS74
      • the swell seasons
        • the only spring
  • writing
    • poetry
  • contact

All articles filed in clogyrnach

winter’s blight

By: littlepeace February 16, 2021February 16, 2021
lent, poetryclogyrnach, lent, poems, poems for lent, poetry, shrove tuesdayLeave a Comment on winter’s blight

what once was whole has now been riven
and the guilty soul bows to be shriven

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lent, poetryclogyrnach, lent, poems, poems for lent, poetry, shrove tuesdayLeave a Comment on winter’s blight

About Amelia


I'm an editrix, a writer, a poet, a photographer, and a wielder of butter. I love Jesus because He loved me first.

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During Lent I’m going to take a break from social media. I am once more going to attempt some sort of Lent-themed poems or writings, though, so you can find those on my blog. The first of those is winter’s blight: a poem for shrove tuesday. You can find it at the link in my bio.
What happens to my old magazines.
The snow’s so powdery it doesn’t even come close to potential snowball stage.
I started re-reading Pride & Prejudice last night. My most recent read of it was in 2014, right before a trip to England, and it’s what finally ignited my appreciation for Jane Austen. I must say that, now that I’ve read all of Austen’s finished novels and have read all of Georgette Heyer’s comic Regency novels at least twice, I’m beginning to notice or appreciate details that I didn’t pick up on before. For example, the Bingleys were from Northern England — and their father earned his money in trade! Nowadays we love the self-made man (or woman) and might look down our noses at people who “merely inherited” their money — but the “pink of the Ton,” as Heyer refers to them, were rather sensitive about social mushrooms in Austen’s day.
The Feast of St. Valentine. (Did you know that he’s also the patron saint of epilepsy and beekeepers?)

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all writing and photographs, unless otherwise noted or obvious, are the work of amelia m. freidline and may not be used or distributed without permission.
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