Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 7 · column 1 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
The world is silent and dark on this clear, cold morning in early December. Days seem bereft of light now. The calendar tells me we are about three weeks away from the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year when the sun rises late and sets early. No wonder primitive man in this latitude became fearful when he saw less and less of the sun. Would it disappear completely and life with it?
The sky toward the east is pale yellow with a hint of pink reflected on the clouds; Shakespeare's "rosy fingered dawn." I went outside to replenish seed in the bird feeder and noted the temperature at 22 degrees. How silent is the world. I did not even hear the "chink” of a Whitethroated Sparrow. Usually they do a bit of talking at dawn. 1 find myself back inside with the window open, listening for any bird sound. My attempts to write are futile, so I gaze out the window and look at the mountains to the south. The right words won't come. Or if they come they don't fit; seem trite and worn.
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