Today is the anniversary of the birth of the great Scottish bard Robert Burns. In honor of the occasion, I’d like to share a poem he wrote about the season of his birth, “Up in the Morning Early.”

“Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;
Sae loud and shrill’s I hear the blast,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.

Up in the morning’s no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure its winter fairly.

The birds sit chittering in the thorn,
A’ day they fare but sparely;
And lang’s the night frae e’en to morn,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.

Up in the morning’s no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure its winter fairly.”

And here’s a look at the Burns Supper we enjoyed over the weekend…our menu is pretty much always the same (cock-a-leekie pie made from the Scottish Arms recipe, with sticky toffee pudding according to the Schlafly recipe for dessert), but someday, I just might make Scotch eggs!

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“And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.”