An English In Kentucky



















May 5th 2009

    This settled weather pattern is rain and mist and drizzle.  Reminds me of distant places.  A faraway that remains in the present.  But here and now, it is less easy to curse the rain incase it sulks and wanders off for months and months.

    The wife is inclined to ponder sunshine as a beneficial possibility.  She speaks softly to avoid offending the rain.  Her phrases do not contain a single expression that could be construed as a negative.  This is saintly behavior, and I am certain the bookkeeper is busily placing gold stars beside her name.


    My own behavior will be less appreciated.  For this I blame history.  I have lived in places where rain has no sensitivity whatsoever.  It shuffles in, remains rude and thoughtless for months at a time, and when it moves on, it leaves a wake of endless clouds that sit in arm chairs sleeping.  And I have lived in a land where rain would sometimes wait a year or more before bringing sickness to a broken drought.

    But this morning, as I cursed the rain, I saw on the electric line a bedraggled bird with a long tail.  Not a regular in these parts.  Good or bad I will call him an omen and I do hope to see him again.

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