And I carry in my pocket every day a thirteen-dollar flash drive that will hold more than three times as much data as the entire hard drive on the laptop I had then.

Makes you wonder what will be outcompeted next . . .

Glad that poem's gone up there--it's a good one. I hope it's not too dark and icy in your vicinity.

Thanks! At the moment it's blindingly cloudless; there's just enough snow on the ground to create the kind of mirror-white arctic wasteland that makes it hard to see. I still prefer it to yesterday, however, when the fifteen minutes it took me to walk to Wilson Farms were a miniature nor'easter—spits of rain, firework lightning, stinging gales of snow that blew down a freestanding stop sign—that ceased as soon as I got inside and had mellowed into balmy afternoon by the time I came out with my groceries. There were several seagulls wheeling overhead, crying. I would not have been surprised to learn that they had blown there from Boston Harbor.