Cookie Tale

I was recently told this story...I have no one to whom I can give credit, because I know not who wrote it or from where it originally came. But it is beautiful and deserves to be told, so I thought I would share it with all of you.

A young lady was waiting for her flight in the boarding room of a big airport.

As she would need to wait many hours, she decided to buy a book to pass the time. She also bought a bag of cookies.

She sat down in an armchair in the VIP room to rest and read in peace. Beside the armchair where the packet of cookies lay, a man sat down in the next seat, opened his magazine and started reading. When she took the first cookie, the man took one also.

She felt irritated, but said nothing. She just thought, "What nerve. If I was in the mood, I would punch him just for daring!" For each cookie she took, the man took one too. This was infuriating her, but she didn't want to cause a scene. When only one cookie remained, she thought: "Ah ha! What's this abusive man going to do now?"

Then the man, taking the last cookie, divided it and gave her one half. That was too much! She was much too angry now! In a huff, she took her book and things and stormed off to commence boarding. When she sat down in her seat inside the plane, she looked in her purse to get her glasses, and, to her surprise, her package of cookies was there, untouched, unopened.

She felt so ashamed. She was wrong. She had forgotten that she had put her cookies in her purse. The man had divided his cookies with her without feeling angered or bitter...while she had been very angry thinking that she was dividing her cookies with him. And now there was no chance to explain herself or to apologize.

There are four things you cannot recover:
The stone after the throw.
The word after it's said.
The occasion after it's lost.
The time after it's gone.

Crisps

I have been inspired. You all know who you are. Yes, all of you who are posting scrumptious, simple, quick recipes that are sure to please. We've been having lovely weather here and I have a dear little rhubarb plant that I transplanted last fall and I am pleased to say that it is now more than flourishing. That being said, this crisp recipe has got to be the fastest most versatile dessert I know. It's one of those handed down recipes that isn't even written down. Alter it as you will. Change the fruit...add stawberries or apples, pears, I've even made this with apricots. But today my little rhubarb plant is begging to be used. I do love this time of year.

In case you are unable to tell, I took the photo before the crisp went in the oven...actually, before I had finished putting the topping on.

Rhubarb Crisp

1/2 C butter
1 C brown sugar

mix together thoroughly

2 C rolled oats
(a little cinnamon if desired)

cut oats into the butter mixture (occasionally I'll add a quarter cup of flour...but it all depends on how I'm feeling)

Cut rhubarb and fill an 8 X 8 pan. Sprinkle crisp mixture on top, pat down gently. Back at 350 for 45 min to 1 hour. Serve with ice cream, whipped cream, cream or just eat plain.

Variations on the Word Sleep

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
Sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head.

And walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves.
with its watery sun and three moons
towards the cave where you must descend
towards your worst fear.

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the centre
of your dream, from the grief
at the centre. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again and become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in.

I would like to be the air
that inhibits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
and that necessary.

~M Atwood

Happy Birthday

Many great things have happened on May 7th throughout history. To name just a few, on this very day in 1429, Joan of Arc ends the Siege of Orleans, pulling an arrow from her own shoulder and returning wounded to lead the final charge; in 1664, Louis XIV of France inaugurates the Palace of Versailles; in 1812, Robert Browning is born in London; in 1824, it is the world premier of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in Vienna; in 1833 composer Johannes Brahms is born in Hamburg; in 1840, Tchaikovsky is born in the Ural region of Russia; in 1908, the University of British Columbia is founded in Vancouver as a branch of McGill; in 1919, Eva Peron was born; in 1920, the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto opens an exhibition titled ‘The Group of Seven’ with paintings by Carmichael, Harris, Jackson, Johnston, Lismer, MacDonald and Varley…their first exhibition; in 1985, the Edmonton Oilers take their second Stanley Cup. But one of most special things to ever have happened on this day was the birth of my very dear friend Cheryl over at Free Range Living. So, my very, very dear friend, for your birthday, I present you my magic lamp with genie intact and three wishes. I used up my final wish to wish you a most wonderful and magical garden on your new property.


To everyone else, if you have a chance, please do pop over and wish Cheryl a very happy birthday. And as old Bill Shakespeare says, " With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come." (Cheryl...not that am wishing you wrinkles...but when they do come, let them be a testament to the happiness in your life.)

Favorites - Summerhill Winery

I hope you all forgive me for the little hiatus I took last week. I was out of town, and the social life has been taking a little too much of my time that I’ve…ehm...yes, not been too regular with my postings. So where have I been? I'm glad you asked. Last weekend I went to the Okanagan, more specifically Kelowna, part of the northernmost wine region in the world. Okay so there are also lush orchards, spectacular scenery, large lakes, mountains, fancy restaurants... did I mention the wineries?

For those of you who have never been, the Okanagan valley is a semiarid desert (Canada’s only) with an average annual rainfall below 30 centimeters. This lack of humidity, combined with the long hot summer days (due to being so far north) and cool evenings has created what is perhaps the finest grape growing region in the world. The grapes tend to be small with a high sugar and acid content as opposed to the fat watery grapes of many other regions. This allows for intensely flavoured aromatic wines. Mmmm…

Way back in 1995, the Okanagan only had about 26 wineries and some of them were obviously of questionable quality. But now, this “Napa North” or “Tuscany of Canada,” as it’s sometimes dubbed, has more than 120 wineries. However, the one winery that I would like to highlight is Summerhill, Canada’s LARGEST organic vineyard.

It is more than just being organic that makes this Summerhill winery special. Summerhill specializes in sparkling wines and they age all their wines in a four-storey replica of the great pyramid. Steven Cipes, the proprietor, believes that the flavour of fine wines is enhanced when aged in a pyramid. Whether or not this is actually the case, what is indisputable is that Summerhill produces phenomenal quality wines that rival those that come from the most established wine regions in the world. In 2000, Summerhill won a gold medal in the Chardonnay du Monde competition for its Gabriel sparkling wine against France’s champagnes. Of the five gold medals awarded in this category, Summerhill was the only winery outside France to be bestowed with such an honour.

While you’re visiting, don’t forget to take a stroll through the Peace Park and take in the fabulous scenery while lunching on the terrace (a fabulous brunch is offered on weekends) before making your way to the wine shop for tastings. And if you’ve never tried icewine, Summerhill offers an exquisite selection.

.

Which Sports Car Are You?

I'm a Mercedes SLK!

You appreciate the finer things in life. You have a split personality - wild or conservative, depending on your mood. Wherever you go, you like to travel first class. Luxury, style, and fun - who could ask for more?

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

Thanks to Peter over at Portrait of Peter for sharing this quiz.

Haiku

Frontal nudity
Masked only by a blossom
Delicate petal.

Krumkake

Quite a number of months ago I promised Cheryl I would post something Norwegian, food wise that is, as she was exploring her ethnic heritage through food. Now Norwegians aren't world renowned for their fine cuisine, but what they do extremely well is pastries. Krumkake is no exception. Okay, I admit this isn't the most practical recipe because unless you have a Krumkake iron, you are pretty much hooped.

For those of you who have never heard of Krumkake, it is a delicate, thin, crispy cookie made from an egg-based batter. I love them, particularily because they look fancy but are extremely easy to make. They are peeled hot off the iron and while still pliable, rolled either around a cone-shaped tube or a wooden spoon. If you've ever had the crispy Italian Pizzelle, then you've had something very similar, although the Norwegian version is much thinner and traditionnally flavoured with cardamom. They are either eaten plain, or sometimes, for special treats, filled with whipped cream and lingonberry sauce.


Krumkake

2 eggs
3/4 C sugar
*beat for about 5 minutes (until very thick)
1 1/4 C flour
1/2 tsp cardamon
3/4 C heavy cream

Add flour mixture alternately with cream to the sugar mixture. Heat Krumkake iron to moderately hot. Drop about 1 Tbsp of batter on iron, cook about 30 seconds on each side. Peel cookie from aron and roll with a wooden spoon. Let cool. (They harden in a couple of minutes.)

Newest Project

Anyone who knows me knows how crazy I am about antiques. The trouble is, one can only collect so many before running out of space or before they amount to not much more than clutter. Lately I've been trying to avoid that problem through incorporation. My latest in this strategy are two stained glass windows that were rescued out of an old house before it was demolished. They initially were in pretty tough shape. As they had originally been outside windows, putty had been used between the lead to help compensate for expansion due to temperature changes, particularly in the winter. This resulted in the lead barely holding some of the joints together once I had popped them out of their frames. They also had old paint on them from the original frames. But my father helped me carefully clean them up. We tried to resolder in some areas, but not with very much success (nothing sticks to putty and as it was underneath the lead...well, I'm sure you can see the difficulty). The final part of my project was completed by a professional. He created new boxes and installed two brand new transoms. Although you can't quite tell from this photo, they do look very nice when the light streams through.

When I am Dead

When I am dead and nervous hands have thrust
My body downward into careless dust;
I think the grave cannot suffice to hold
My spirit 'prisoned in the sunless mold!
Some subtle memory of you shall be
A resurrection of the life of me.
Yea, I shall be, because I love you so,
The speechless spirit of all things that grow.
You shall not touch a flower but it shall be
Like a caress upon the cheek of me.
I shall be patient in the common grass,
That I may feel your foot fall when you pass.
I shall be kind as rain and pure as dew,
A loving spirit 'round the life of you.
When your soft cheeks by perfumed winds
are fanned,
'Twill be my kiss ~ and you will understand.
But when some sultry, storm bleared sun has set,
I will be lightning if you dare forget.

~John G Neihandt

Dreams of Tuscany

As I sit here waiting for spring to truly settle in (spring is here, but extremely temperamental this year), I have to admit that all truly looks more golden under the Tuscan sun...even the December Tuscan sun.

As much of Italy seems to move at a frenetic pace, once arriving in Tuscany, movement almost ceases entirely. Existence begins. Life flows seamlessly and effortlessly. It is a place to forget and just be.

Above is the view I had from my hotel room, a fifteenth century well preserved monastery. Inside frescoes enrich the ceiling and the stone steps are uneven and worn, I presume from many a year of monks passing through. At five every evening the bell in the neighbouring chapel would clang wildly as if life itself depended on it, sending the doves roosting in the bell tower off on a mad frenzy over the village. But even in the midst of this predictable sudden chaos, there was an undeniable calmness and beauty. It is so easy to loose oneself here, melt into the surroundings and simply exist.

Good Old Lear

Then they for sudden joy did weep,
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep,
And go the fools among.

Today I Am...

Mint Green

Balanced and calm, you have mastered the philosophy of living well. Your friends seek you out for support, and you are able to bring stability to chaotic situations. You're very open and cheerful - and you feel like you have a lot of freedom in life. Your future may hold any number of exciting things, and you're ready for all of them!

What Color Green Are You?

Thanks JBelle for directing me to this site. I will get back to more regular posts soon (hopefully). I've been frightfully busy (or, as I'd rather say, creatively preoccupied).

The Boy with the Incredible Brain

I found this facinating video over at Fede's site Strayed, Uncorrelated Thoughts. If you have the time, I highly recommend watching it. It's about an extremely high functioning savant, Daniel Tammet. He first came to worldwide attention in March 2004 on International Pi Day when he recited, from memory, Pi to 22,514 decimal places. The event took over five hours and he set a new European record. He used this event to raise funds for the National Society for Epilepsy because it was after a series of childhood seizures that he developed his extrodinary number and memory abilities.

Daniel is highly articulate which is unusual as most savants also exhibit severe disabilities. Thus he is invaluable to science as he is able to describe what is going on in his head while he is making massive caculations. In addition to his number and massive memory skills, he also has exceptional language skills. He speaks over seven languages fluently and at the end of this documentary he is put to the ultimate test as he attempts to learn Icelandic in just 7 days and then appear on national television. Watch to find out what happens.

Things I Love about Nelson # 4: Unbridled Creativity

As I was driving down the street today, I passed a rather unkempt hippy type...hair flowing, almost dreads, but not quite; several years worth of beard growth; four bottles of what could only be moonshine creatively strung together and slung over his shoulders. The out of town guest who was with me commented, "I must remember to always have my camera on me when I'm in Nelson. They all seem to come out in the spring, don't they?" Honestly, why wouldn't they? ...whoever that they refers too. The weather has been fabulous and it certainly has brought me out.


Anyways, less than a block later, we passed a couple, a very different sort of appearance than the first fellow. They were carrying a bottle of wine and some sort of casserole dish. They were obviously on their way to a potluck...another very popular activity in these parts. All this to say that's part of what I love about this area...we actually do have ALL types and we all seem to be comfortable enough in our own skin to be open to interaction with those who may be quite different than ourselves.

This openness to exchange of ideas and cultures is probably what has made this area a mecca for artsy types. Nelson is known for their potters (and I'm not talking the marijuana type, although there's that too), painters, theatre types, creative street entertainers, musicians, you name it. To humour you all, one of these days I will venture out with my camera to document "a day in the life of..."

Speaking of all the artsy types that come from this area, I was recently introduced to the music of a musician who hails from the area that might be worth a listen: Shawn Hlookoff. He's young, and that does show through in his music. However, what I particularly like is his acknowledgement that music has a powerful influence on society and his desire to use it as a medium for positive change. In his own words, "My goal is to write songs that have some sort of positive message or meaning that gets ingrained in a persons psyche. I want to tap into the mind of someone who's struggling through life and change their pessimistic view into optimism."


Very lofty goal, indeed. He also says that he wants to "use music as a voice for people who don't have the power to get their voice heard, or to help all those unromantic bastards get some action. " Okay, so I guess we can't be deep all the time, and he is, afterall, only 22. If you are interested in checking out some of his music, you can have a listen to quite a number of his songs on his official website. Happy listening.

Things I Love about Nelson # 3 - Whitewater Ski Resort and Whitewater Cooks

Burdockboy over at False Sense of Security has recently been so kind as to bring the following article from the New York Times on a little gem of the Kootenays to my attention. Thus I thought I too would take the time to highlight a relatively new, little known cookbook that has quickly become one of my all time favorites. The cookbook is "Whitewater Cooks."

Whitewater, for those of you unfamiliar with the area, is a tiny local ski resort tucked up tight in the Selkirk mountains about a fifteen minute drive from Nelson. It is not large, but boasts some of the best powder skiing in all of BC. But aside from the skiing, its little cafeteria, the Fresh Tracks Cafe, serves probably the best food of any ski resort in North America. For years I have wondered how other ski resorts could get away with charging outrageous prices for nothing more than a greasy burger and fries when I could purchase a delicious, healthy meal at Whitewater for much less. If you don't believe me, just ask the locals. So good is the food here, that often locals who don't ski will make a trip up to the hill just for lunch. Who wouldn't. Even their burgers beyond the ordinary. One of their best sellers, the Fancy Pants Burger, is piled with chèvre, caramelized onions, roasted garlic aioli, tomatoes, bacon and spring greens. Or if burgers aren't your thing, try one of their fabulous bowls or Whiskey Smoked Salmon Chowder, Lemony Lentil Soup or Pad Thai, Rumour has it that their 'Famous Burger Sauce' is worth the price of the book alone.

For more information on this cookbook, check out the following link by Amazon. By clicking on the "search inside" icon in the top left hand corner, you can see a few pages inside the cookbook as well as a few of their soup recipes. Bon Appetit!

Ponte Vecchio

One of the most charming bridges in all of Italy lies across the Arno river in Firenze. The Ponte Vecchio, built in 1345 by Taddeo Gaddi, replaced a wooden crossing that had been washed away by a flood twelve years earlier. The overhanging shops in pale pastel colours add to the bridge’s enduring appeal.

Shop owners first set up businesses on the Ponte in the 12th century. Rumour has it that a tax exemption on the bridge played a large role in the creation of these premises. For centuries food stores monopolized the bridge until Ferdinando I de’ Medici had Giogio Vasari construct a corridor along the top of the bridge to link the Palazzo Veccio with his home. He couldn’t stand the smell of rancid meat emanating from the butcher shops below so he thus promptly expelled all such businesses along with any businesses deemed lower-class. Goldsmiths and jewelers promptly took their places and are still prominent along the bridge today.

The far bank across the bridge is bordered by the backs of picturesque houses, their foundations lightly bathed by the river. Beautiful views are seen looking both up and down the river in part of the oldest area of town.

During the German retreat at the end of World War II, the Ponte Vecchio was the only bridge in Florence not destroyed. This was apparently because of an express order by Hitler. As a result, this bridge is not only the oldest segmental arch bridge in Florence, but in all of Europe.

Love

Love rests on no foundation.
It is an endless ocean,
with no beginning or end.
Imagine,
a suspended ocean,
riding on a cushion of ancient secrets.
All souls have drowned in it,
and now dwell there.
One drop of that ocean is hope,
and the rest is fear.

~Rumi

Random Acts of Kindness

And Why I love Nelson...

While waiting in line at the grocery store today, I struck up a conversation with the person in front of me. Once she had paid, she grabbed her bags and left. The teller was in the midst of scanning my items when this person came back and handed me a bouquet of sunny daffodils just because. I am not quite sure how I touched her life, or if I even did, but her random act of kindness certainly touched mine. This has got me thinking how even a simple gesture, especially from a stranger can make one's day. Perhaps these small random acts of kindness won't have life altering effects of the same magnitude as in the movie "Pay it Forward," but this simple act certainly put a smile on my face. And isn't giving someone smiles and moments of happiness truly a precious gift?

My Visual DNA

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Hope

From when I first set eyes upon her, I felt especially drawn to this melancholic beauty. Her wistful glance of yearning for that which never quite is in some meaningful way spoke to me as I understood that she was looking for some small measure of peace that we all seek, but never quite find. She surrounds herself with political messages which have thus far fallen on deaf ears and seek yet a captive audience. She speaks volumes in her silence. When we met again this last time in December, she seemed even more pensive as she held a snow white rose close to her heart in her barren surroundings.

Who's Your Twin?

If you'd like a little bit of vacuous entertainment check out this link that Cheryl over at Free Range Living posted the other day. Basically you upload a photo of yourself and it runs some kind of facial recognition software to tell you which celebrities you most resemble. It's sort of fun, although I'm still questioning its accuracy. Each photo I plugged in brought up a different slew of celebrities. I think the resemblance was more in the way my head was tilted or eyebrow cocked rather than any deeper similarity, although a few celebrities popped up for more than one picture. Apparently I look somewhere in between a Caprice Bourret, Kristin Cavallari, Elle MacPherson and Luciana Salazar. Aside from not knowing who some of these "celebrities" were, the whole experience was good for a few laughs. Let me know who you look like.

Losing One's Mind

"Those whom the Gods want to destroy, they first make crazy."

Basilica de Sant Antonio

I am staying in Fratte, not far from Venice and even closer to Padua. Today I will stop in Padua. Although often overlooked by most tourists in favour of the far more famous Venice, I decide to make trek. Padua is famous as the city of San Antonio and also boasts one of the oldest universities in all of Europe. My first stop is the Basilica di Sant Antonio.

Saint Anthony is apparently one of the most famous of all Catholic Saints and is often called upon to help find lost possessions, but he is also the patron saint of the poor and of travelers. Thus it seems all the more appropriate in the midst of this voyage that I stop.

The Basilica built immediately after the death of this Franciscan monk in 1231 is large and imposing. It has a unique blend of both Romantic and Gothic elements. Inside the Basilica you can visit St Anthony's tomb. It has been said that when the vault in which his body had laid for thirty years was opened, his flesh was found reduced to dust, however, his tongue was seen to be uninjured, fresh, and of a lively red colour. St Bonaventure beholding this wonder, took the tongue affectionately in his hands and kissed it. Although no longer the red colour originally described, the tongue has been kept as a relic on display.

Excerpt from "The Divine Weeks"

(La Semaine ou Création du Monde)

The rav'ning Kite, whose traine doth well supplie
A Rudders place; the Falcon mounting high,
The Marline, Lanar, and the gentle - Tercell,
Th'Ospray, and Saker, with a nimble Sarcell
Follow the Phoenix, from the Clouds (almost)
At once discovering many an unknowne Coast:
In the swift Ranke of these fell Rovers, flies
The Indian Griffin with the glistring eyes,
Beake Eagle-like, backe sable, Sanguine brest,
White (Swan-like) wings, fierce tallents, alwaies prest
For bloody Battailes; for, with these he teares
Boares, Lyons, Horses, Tigres, Bulls, and Beares:
With these, our Grandames fruitfull panch he pulls,
Whence many an Ingot of pure Gold he culls,
To floore his proud nest, builded strong and steepe
On a high Rock better his thefts to keepe:
With these, he guards against an Armie bold,
The hollow Mines where first he findeth gold,
As wroath, that men upon his right should rove.
Or theevish hands usurp his Tresor-trove.
O! ever may'st thou fight so (valiant Foule)
For this dire bane of our seduced soule,
And (with thee) may the Dardane ants, so ward
The Gold committed to their carefull Guard,
That hence-forth hope-less, mans fraile mind may rest-her
From seeking that, which doth it's Maisters maister..."

Guillaume de Sallust du Bartas ~ 1578

Cinque Terre

Today it's not raining, but there is a light mist. It's humid, but not cold. I must be off early. I am visiting Cinque Terre, on the Riviera di Levante in Liguria. The trip will be quick as I am expected to arrive in Zurich this evening on the 9 pm train. I could easily forgo this out of the way stop, but that would be to miss what I am told is breathtaking scenery that has inspired many a poet. I must go. I make my way out of town following yet another narrow road that snakes its way up the mountain side. I hope I am going in the right direction.

I stop at the crest of the hill to ask an elderly man for directions. The exchange is short as neither of us is quite sure what the other is saying. However, after a series of jests and pointing at the map, I'm pretty sure I am on the right track. I sneak one last peek at La Spezia before continuing on.

As I get further and further off the beaten path, the fog thickens. I wonder if I'm perhaps wasting my time. But I'm hoping the fog will burn off by the time I arrive. I travel through dense forest mastering one hairpin turn after another. Tiny, sleepy villages cling to the mountain side. I can't but wonder how people first came to such remote out of the way places. It's hard enough to get here by car...

I can feel the coast approach, the smell of salt in the air. The forest abruptly breaks open and the sky opens up above me. Then suddenly I see it. Nestled on the coast, where steep cliffs and hills drop precipitously into the Mediterranean, is the first of the five villages. It is stunning and I take a few minutes to breathe it all in: the terraced hillsides, the vineyards, the rocky cliffs, and the colourful houses.

I continue to make my way down the mountain side until I reach the city gates. There is no car traffic in the villages and all vehicles must be parked at the entrance. The village is tiny but bustling with a flurry of activity as the locals make their way through the narrow streets, or greet each other from the front of their shops. There are few tourists at this time of year so I am a noticable oddity. The locals, however, are quick to say hello and show their wares.

When I reach the coast, I realize that I can look in both directions and see all five of the villages. It's supposed to be a nice walk from one to the next, but I only have time to take a brisk walk to the one neighbouring village on this trip. Unfortunately my time is short. I will have to come back on another trip to more throroughly explore the coast that links these five charming villages. But right now, I have a train to catch.

Cinque Terre is a designated UNESCO World Heritage site.

Lazy Day

I really don't have much of interest to report today. I've been fighting off a nasty bug which I thought was gone, but yesterday it returned with a vengeance. So the truth of the matter is the brain is feeling rather dull. That coupled with the weather being uncooperative made it a perfect day to curl up with a good book and a pot of tea. I picked up these jasmine tea balls at the local health food store (Kootenay Coop for those familiar with the region) the other day.

I’d seen these mysterious walnut sized balls of tea in shops before and knew they were special, but it took some serious raving from a friend to convince me that they were worth buying. Basically, they are long green tea leaves, hand rolled and hand tied, dried with fresh jasmine flowers giving them a deliciously delicate scent.

But the magical pleasure comes when hot water is added to the ball. Almost like conjuring a trick, the ball unfolds into a spiky green starburst and a flower in the centre emerges and spontaneously comes to life and grows before your very eyes. Very clever and a joy for all the senses.

The chrysanthemum like flower that emerges is supposed to symbolize tranquility, beauty, longevity and health.

Roma

"Rome is yet the capital of the world. It is a city of palaces and temples, more glorious than those which any other city contains, and of ruins more glorious than they."

Percy Bysshe Shelley to Thomas Love Peacock.
March 23, 1819