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September 26th 2009

hippochoc1.jpg (37335 bytes)

    I will say that I have had enough of the current weather pattern.   And I will curse the weather because unlike many I do not believe the weather takes one iota of time to concern itself with my opinion. 

    This is not ice-cream weather and nor is it hot fudge sundae weather.  There is no stove to moderate the damp.  And soon something will emerge from the river below us that may require us to obtain aqualungs from a mail order company.   

    And yet I suppose in the great tapestry these concerns are paralleled only by the docility of the life I lead.  Which makes this complaint of mine little more than what a British politician once referred to as, "an indecent whinge from the fortunate".   He was referring to a colleague's objections to removing that tax deduction on mortgage interest, if I remember.

    Narcissist, is I think the word that might be applied to my attitude, by those who look to catalogue aspects of personality.   In other words I have in my mind a reflection of how I would like things to be, and when they are not, I curse or grumble or become irritating to be around or behave in a brutish manner, and I am otherwise unappreciative of blessings on into the perpetuity of blessings.

 

    

    

    But I suggest that if a saint's sun bonnet had mold growing on it, and if a saint's shovel was rusty despite hanging under shelter, then even a saint would be drawn toward narcissistic declaration.  Otherwise, in my view, a saint would have no comprehension of 'being' and no business breathing the same air as the bearded one.

    So on behalf of the fearful, I curse at the sight of  Lavender dying from wet feet.  I will curse for the crumpled flowers of fall blooming Iris.  I will curse the slimy green thing growing in the drive way.  I will curse for the Least Flycatcher who has wet feathers and soon it might be windy and cold.  And yes, next year we will now probably have drought, so in anticipation of this future plague I will curse Cluster Flies, who in in this damp weather are almost polite.

   And how different all this would be if the weather did have an opinion of me.  If it did have an iota of narcissism.  Then, if it could just see itself in the mirror, it would come away shamed by its recent behavior.

    However, outside in what passes for a terrestrial environment there are eleven Chimney Swifts, apparently blissful.

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tim candler

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(Narcissus)  (Chimney Swift Feet)