Open Thread For May

Winter plays its wild games no more among our mountains
The drift blossom melting, dying
The sky is one big smile in the bright evenings of spring
Sun kissing life into woods and lakes
Summer’s coming soon in scarlet waves
Gilded, shifting to azure lie the meadows in the flames of the day
And well-springs dance in the grove

Open Thread For April

… I, for the succour and diversion of such of them as love (for others may find sufficient solace in the needle and the spindle and the reel), do intend to recount one hundred Novels or Fables or Parables or Stories, as we may please to call them, which were recounted in ten days by an honourable company of seven ladies and three young men in the time of the late mortal pestilence, as also some canzonets sung by the said ladies for their delectation. Decameron, Preamble