According to an on-the spot investigation, nearly 10 thousand swans live at Swan-lake. Three kinds of swans: Whopper Swan, Whistling Swan and Mute Swan, can be found in China. They can also be seen in the Swan-lake of Xinjiang. With the melting snow and ice, spring comes to the north part of China, and a large number of swans fly in crowds from India or South Africa, and return to the Swan-Lake, to perch and propagate. At this time, the Swan-Lake that was calm for the winter, begins to come alive with activity and prosper in the genial sunshine. Pairs of swans build their nests and hatch their young, look forward to new lives, which will appear in the world. Those juvenile swans fly in crows in the skies or travel in groups on the green grassland or swim in the lake. In summer, Swan-Lake is not only the paradise of swans, but a splendid place where the Mongolian herdsmen graze sheep and cattle. On this green grassland groups of plump and sturdy yak, snow-white fine-wool sheep and white Mongolian tents make Swan-Lake even more touching.

There's nothing more touching, really, than a plump and sturdy yak.

Anyway, it's been a beautiful weekend and I've been very busy. We watched the opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games, a moving and fantastic spectacle. We went to a party in Palo Alto, and I engaged in much fannish giddiness. I visited the Strybing Arboretum in Golden Gate Park with Sarah Prince, and got sunburned. Michael came over for dinner and fixed up a web counter for me. I promised the other Michael I'd remedy my oversight in not linking to him in my housewarming party entry. I studied some algebra, puzzled over how to get my finicky dog to eat more of her food, and disbanded the Archipelago web ring.

Suddenly it's midnight and I have to think about going to bed even though I'm not sleepy. I would really rather read some of the comics Michael loaned me, or the Freya Stark books Allen Baum loaned me, or watch some more Olympics coverage, but that would be wrong. I need my sleep, and must coax it to visit me which can best be done in the dark lying on my side with a cat curled up in the crook of my knees. I will think about the logistics of visiting the fearsome and beautiful Taklamakan, and ponder the inexplicable mystery of Whopper Swans.

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