I don’t fear falling into anthropomorphism when I think as I did yesterday. The label is used erroneously far more often than not, it seems to me. I will cheerfully call it anthropomorphism when I read on my almond milk container these words: “Shake me up. After...
Last night Twig and I sat our nightly vigil keeping an eye on the sky. No clouds, no halo, and the moon having risen later than last night it was having to catch up; otherwise, firmament was unchanged. Then it happened — yips and howls, whines, and yowls, rising...
