So I'm sitting out here on our back deck, such as it is, on a lovely day. It's the Victoria Day long weekend and I've done at least one huge, heroic thing (in the spirit of the aformentioned queen?) already: I cut the grass. Actually it was kind of a big deal because it had gotten quite long in places, due to unusual precipitation, and I had to use our tiny push mower like a battering ram on such places. But all was successful, and I also pulled out our cheap battery pack-powered weed eater and got it functional, and whacked serious grass around the edges.

So also, by the way, I finished the biography of C.S. Lewis. Good stuff. I liked it far more than the average biography and came out feeling I sort of knew the man, or had a sense of him better. Not sure I'd entirely like spending time with him, actually. He was intensely loyal to friends who shared his passions (literature, etc.) and stuck with them through his life. But he couldn't stand small talk and politely ended conversations about mundane stuff. This is why some women came away thinking he was misogynistic; they tried talking about typical women's topics--domestic affairs or what have you--and he cut them off. This at least is what I gather from the book, more or less.

Added to the mix is the fact, according to Sayer (the author) that Lewis was rather anti-American. He was married to an abrasive, loud, American of Jewish background for a few years at the end of his life, but she herself was anti-American and thought all things British were better. A woman after his own heart. (She was also brilliant, an author herself, and highly literary in her tastes...)

So there you have it. Now I'm going to sign off and start getting stuff done around here. Just thankful I'm able to be out here, soaking up this window of nice weather before it turns nasty again on Monday (or so they say).