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November 28th 2010    Tim Candler

    A suspicious fog toward the river.  It billows up sometimes to completely conceal the neighboring county. 

    They are an hour slower over there so their day starts in daylight.  Which must be nice for them.  But they, poor things, see darkness begin at a little after four in the afternoon.  Here, where I live, when the clock says it's time to get up it's nighttime.  And here where I live it begins to get dark a little after five in the afternoon. 

    If I lived next door in Central Time, I'd hit the winter morning with flourish and enthusiasm, bound around like a Kangaroo through the day, and see long hours of darkness as an opportunity to work on jigsaw puzzles or home improvement.

      Always useful to be content in one's own place.  Otherwise wishes become ludicrous.

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