Onion Sauce

THE Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said "Bother!" and "O blow!" and also "Hang spring-cleaning!" and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat. Continued here.

That, surely, is one of the greatest pleasures of having a blog.

One can say, "Hang blogging" and bolt out of the house without even waiting to put on a coat and walk down the street or across the meadow and feel the warmth of the spring sunshine on one's back.

Like playing hooky from school, or  quitting a job, letting a blog go hang, provides the delightful sense of freedom. Freedom to explore the endless possibilities of existence.