Wednesday 15 May 2024--"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun," wrote William Shakespeare in Sonnet 130. He goes on to enumerate the ways in which his lover does not so favorably compare to nature's beauty:

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks....

Well, she doesn't sound like much, does she? But Will goes on:

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Or, as a later bard would put it, "You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're all right." You know, I'm not too smart about women, but I'm pretty sure that there aren't many of them who would appreciate being complimented in this way. But, to be fair to old Will, his point is not that he loves his mistress despite her shortcomings; it's that the flowery language that some use to exalt their lovers is false, and can't truly describe his love for a flesh-and-blood human being.

This, from the guy who wrote "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

I've spent the equivalent of four weeks in the Netherlands since Win and I were stranded in Amsterdam that time in 2004. After several brief stays in that city, I've made trips to Volendam, Enkhuizen, and now Texel. I have a hard time explaining why I find the flat landscapes of Noord-Holland so attractive. In Scottish lochans is there more delight than in the damp that from the polders leaks. Erm. I guess there's no real need to explain, is there? Maybe it's just that those long straight lines look good in my wide-angle photos.

I take the train to Schiphol this morning, and fly to Boston via Dublin. It's nice that you pass through US customs in Dublin, so that when you arrive in Boston, you can exit the plane and go on your way. There seem to be an awful lot of hoops to jump through in Dublin now, though...I don't remember it being such a trial in previous transits. Can't blame Brexit this time.

I have a nice view of Plum Island on the descent into Logan. My passage through the airport is fast, unhindered by either customs or baggage carousels. Catch the bus to Woburn and drive to Ron's house. He has a beer waiting for me, and we throw around ideas for our next trip. I'm not even home yet.

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