Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Slim and Franke
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
We visited my sister today and were treated to this sight. They have this nest of baby cardinals in a hanging plant on their deck. There are three. The mama and daddy were both away so I could catch this picture.