December 2nd 2009

    Not unusual to misplace a day where I live.  But thirty days has September, April, June and November.  And more delightful, we are one day closer to Winter Solstice than I thought.  Soon it'll be terribly cold, but days will lengthen.

    Odd that I should have so contentedly prepared winter projects through what I thought was the last day of November.  I smelled warm air, managed a little digging in the gravel bed, and I removed the engine from one of the machines that live in the barn.  

    Perhaps had I known yesterday that it was already December there would have been a higher incidence of cursing and a greater insistence on the day being too cold to risk leaving the indoors. 

    So clearly the new me is currently dominant, and we all hope that in his enthusiasm he does not mislay vital engine parts by assuming a memory capable of recording what bit goes where over time.

    There was no paper and pencil amongst the grunts and groans of rusty bolts, black oil and dust.   And experienced observers have long known that resurrection through trial and error rarely produces a mechanical device that functions as designed, even if the device in question is Maxfield Parrish Blue and has a black seat.

tim candler

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