Recharging

We're taking the day to catch up on sleep, and other things, such as baking blueberry coffeecake for breakfast, and oatmeal molasses bread for general consumption. Nothing like whacking on that dough to work out the crotchets in the psyche. Sweet evening walk, not even needing a second layer for warmth; the coolness down by the lake was delicious.
Here's a wonderful bit of description from Eliot's "Felix Holt" of a small boy named Job Tudge:
"Job was a small fellow about five, with a germinal nose, large round blue eyes, and red hair that curled close to his head like the wool on the back of an infantine lamb. He had evidently been crying, and the corners of his mouth were still dolorous." Felix Holt and his mother had taken in this "orphin child". Felix describes Job a bit more: "This is a hero, Miss Lyon. This is Job Tudge, a bold Briton whose finger hurts him, but who doesn't mean to cry.
The beauty of Eliot's writing continues to amaze me.