August 31st 2009

    The analogy of "wood on the porch" is apt description for a cool morning on the last day of August.  The strawberries think so too.  The older strawberries are following their typical routine of demonstrating classic symptoms of healthiness in the wake of what must be their moment of "wood on the porch".

    Walking by their long time home I am aware of the debate.  Seasonal change requires adjustment beyond a move back to wearing trousers, and wondering where the overcoat might be hiding.  And I suppose in many places death is on that menu too.

    In past time, fall was busy with garden work.  The tidy up after the happy mess of summer.  I'd rake leaves for days, and with the knowledge of a long workless winter ahead often wonder what the difference was between piles of leaves and some of those breakfast cereals the well adjusted consume regularly.   A little sugar and milk, and we'd not want for food.  But mostly people wanted this resource removed, so we'd burn it to entertain the fire department, or shovel it onto the pickup truck and let a speedy drive home dispose of it.

    The friend who lives too far away passed along a report of a Praying Mantis that caught a Humming Bird, and ate parts of it.  A somber reminder of the actual world we live in.  

    Here of course in the dreamscape, a mind that wallows can come away frightened and then adventure is gone as the world becomes dour.  And I am guilty of it.  If every day could be just like today, I would never curse again.  I would follow Zoroaster, regret nothing and prove Nietzsche false.

    In the end though it's better to curse like a Scotsman and then do the necessary things.

tim candler

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