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March 12th 2010    Tim Candler

  

    I have checked the rain gauge for leaks.  And there is a menace just behind my left ear to remind me how bold to presume good rain in March.

    I remember during Spring floods far to the North and West of us a farmer interviewed by one of those pretty people with microphone.  There he was in his drowned field telling the world how he never would curse the weather.  I suspected his position as belonging to superstition, and I admired his smile which seemed to suggest that his interviewer came from another planet.

      But I have an unpleasant personality when it comes to weather.   I would have given that pretty person with microphone graphic account of the fundamentally evil nature of weather.   I would have used that opportunity to rant.   And afterwards I would have been ashamed of myself.  I would have hidden in corners and probably by now I would have changed my name.

     So all power to the man who does not curse the weather.   Takes what he is given.  Understands the mood of clouds in the flow of time.  Refrains from issuing edicts to a phenomenon that does not use language or grasp gesture, but can throw down hail stones the size of golf balls.

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