From owner-freebsd-mobile@FreeBSD.ORG Mon May 29 10:46:48 2006 Return-Path: X-Original-To: mobile@freebsd.org Delivered-To: freebsd-mobile@FreeBSD.ORG Received: from mx1.FreeBSD.org (mx1.freebsd.org [216.136.204.125]) by hub.freebsd.org (Postfix) with ESMTP id 644FD16A42B; Mon, 29 May 2006 10:46:48 +0000 (UTC) (envelope-from interscholastic@ipodgarage.com) Received: from 2116.sts.virtua.com.br (2116.sts.virtua.com.br [200.213.211.6]) by mx1.FreeBSD.org (Postfix) with SMTP id BCB9C43D4C; Mon, 29 May 2006 10:46:45 +0000 (GMT) (envelope-from interscholastic@ipodgarage.com) Date: Mon, 29 May 2006 10:46:58 +0000 From: "tennasa traore" X-Mailer: The Bat! (v3.5.34) Professional X-Priority: 3 (Normal) Message-ID: <90908503.20060202063554@200.213.211.6> To: mobile@freebsd.org MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/related; boundary="----------53D40CE1F627A89B" X-Antivirus: avast! (VPS 0621-4, 26/05/2006), Outbound message X-Antivirus-Status: Clean X-Content-Filtered-By: Mailman/MimeDel 2.1.5 Cc: Subject: Think globally, act loco X-BeenThere: freebsd-mobile@freebsd.org X-Mailman-Version: 2.1.5 Precedence: list Reply-To: interscholastic@ipodgarage.com List-Id: Mobile computing with FreeBSD List-Unsubscribe: , List-Archive: List-Post: List-Help: List-Subscribe: , X-List-Received-Date: Mon, 29 May 2006 10:46:48 -0000 ------------53D40CE1F627A89B Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Hello, [cid:53D40CE1.F627A89B.53D40CE1.F627A89B_csseditor] upadukadel[dot]com ---- It was that time of the year, the turning-point of summer, when the crops of the present year are a certainty, when one begins to think of the sowing for next year, and the mowing is at hand; when the rye is all in ear, though its ears are still light, not yet full, and it waves in gray-green billows in the wind; when the green oats, with tufts of yellow grass scattered here and there among it, droop irregularly over the late-sown fields; when the early buckwheat is already out and hiding the ground; when the fallow lands, trodden hard as stone by the cattle, are half ploughed over, with paths left untouched by the plough; when from the dry dung-heaps carted onto the fields there comes at sunset a smell of manure mixed with meadow-sweet, and on the low-lying lands the riverside meadows are a thick sea of grass waiting for the mowing, with blackened heaps of the stalks of sorrel among it. It was the time when there comes a brief pause in the toil of the fields before the beginning of the labors of harvest--every year recurring, every year straining every nerve of the peasants. The crop was a splendid one, and bright, hot summer days had set in with short, dewy nights. The brothers had to drive through the woods to reach the meadows. ------------53D40CE1F627A89B--