Winter Rain and the Smoke it Brings

I feel a little guilty and worthless about not contributing one tiny thing to this blog so far, considering I expressed so much enthusiasm about the whole enterprise. I have been busy tackling an art history project about Humanism in the northern European Renaissance ohmyGodIamsosickofallthosewordsfldkjafkdlaga as inefficiently as possible in spite of my sincere best efforts to the contrary. (Five times the pages of notes than the page requirement of the paper. How does this happen?)

Anyway, I'm looking forward to spring break. I turned down a trip to California's better half with Mr. Inclan in favor of staying here and exploring Washington (Mount St. Helens is cool, right?) I had my selfish reasons that I won't go into because I'm old fashioned when it comes to journaling and this isn't that kind of a blog anyway... But at least part of it, I'd like to think, was my undying love for/mysterious bond with the Pacific Northwest. Which reminded me of some passages from Sometimes a Great Notion that I can't recall and a poem by Sam Hamill, which I was introduced to in Literature of the Americas a year ago. TerribleTara probably remembers it.

I'm just going to insert the link because otherwise my post will take up more room than it deserves.

http://www.ac.wwu.edu/~bgoebel/members/shamill.htm