“I am a little weary of my life…”

‘Tis the season to be jolly, right?  It all depends.  George MacDonald’s opening line for his December sonnets describes a state in which I find myself these days:

I am a little weary of my life….

He inquires about his weariness.  Perhaps it’s from something that’s meant to be.

Shall fruit be blamed if it hang wearily
A day before it perfected drop plumb
To the sad earth from off its nursing tree? Read the rest of this entry »