July 19th 2009

    Before "Noddy went to Toyland", where he was promptly arrested by Constable Plod for exceeding the speed limit, stories for children reflected even darker essences.  In more distant days witches and wolves lived in forests, bears ate from porringers, and grandmothers were never quite who you thought they were.

   I too am guilty of attributing qualities to flora and fauna that they might not deserve.  Uncle Eggplant ascribes a peculiar and unnatural relationship to a recent ancestor.  Bluebirds do not read, they do not play chess, nor entertain themselves with a charade or two when the Tree Swallows are gone.  

    I understand my error.  It approaches the facile.  I am Disneyesque.  I am bunny rabbit in my perceptions.  Yet I remain with this reach of attribution despite it being a fundamental failure of comprehension.    

     It is a fortunate position.  A luxury perhaps.  But my mind wanders among those places and people I have known and I have learned what danger is.  Dangerous is the mind that sees no gray, and generally in those places that order minds, every thing is "yes" or "no".  And this, when journey in imagination is adventure.

     Cantaloupe of course is evil.  Herons wear bedroom slippers after dark and a mole is so confusing a color has been named after him.

tim candler

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