a year in
the labyrinth

the year opens cold. the first letter is composed at the keeper's desk on the 1st, and sent (this year, late). the january wind sets in by the 17th; on the 17th, the kitchen-yard well surface freezes for the first time. the keeper records this with a small mark in the log.

the cold persists. the winter well draws an unusual number of mornings. on the night of the 5th there is snow without wind — perfectly vertical descent — and the keeper notes it as uplig·ben, a small variety of weather not strictly in the dictionary. thaw eve arrives on the 22nd this year; the ice cracks on schedule.

old clothes day on the third saturday brings out the wool that has been folded since october. the apiary begins to stir; one hive lost. a single phantom in the south corridor — slight — on the 19th. the parlour smells of wax and rain.

bee morning on the first dry day of the month: the hives are opened. the iris in the blue glass jar on the study windowsill is replaced weekly. the keeper makes a great many small entries in the log this month; this is normal for april.

a quiet month. the lambs are not the labyrinth's affair, but they are noted. white lilies appear in the dining room on the 12th. the river is high. the eight thirty-six runs on time, mostly.

long evenings begin. on the 21st, midsummer, the singing bell is rung — a swinging-bronze, rippling-ring affair. some attend; many do not. an unsigned letter arrives on the 28th; it is filed under unsent (it has, in fact, no return address).

the heat. the heat morning from twenty-three years ago is read aloud in the parlour. on the last sunday: the quiet market, two stalls fewer than usual. the bees are calmest now.

the great heat. the great bell is muffled to eleven strokes on the 8th, by oversight. the ferry to petrel isle runs less reliably. an unexpected phantom in the upper corridor for two days; investigated, found administrative.

the first apple festival is held on the second sunday. honey taken. the storm of 1983 is anniversaried in a small commemorative entry on the 4th. the air begins to thin.

an ordinary month. the ordinary morning of october — the day-book ruled, nothing of note — is observed informally. the parlour has its fire lit for the first time on the 17th.

the quiet walk on the second friday — a single lantern, dark roads. the keeper takes part. on the 11th, the small silence at eleven is observed in the manner of the 1994 record. eleven dots, one candle.

the seven lamps on the solstice eve. the still morning of 24 december is observed quietly; a single candle in the window, frost on the sill. on the 31st, if circumstances allow, the leap-second clock is set, and one extra second is ceremonially noted at midnight (this year, none — the iers has indicated no insertion).