An English In Kentucky


















July 11th  2011    Tim Candler

    It's the same when it's very, very cold.  An older person feels obliged to go outside to see exactly how cold it is. And usually he'll come back inside and mutter something  about crueler nights spent in culverts.  Perhaps if I belonged to the class of "Elderly", I'd just wrap up with the weather radio on the coldest night in winter and stare at the ceiling.

    High heat in summer, I am advised, is particularly dangerous for children, those with medical conditions and "The Elderly."  But at least "an older person" is still allowed to waddle around in the shade as long as he takes frequent breaks, wears light clothing and drinks plenty of water, which pretty much accounts for my June, July and August.  So god knows what I'll do in the heat if I ever belong to the "Elderly."

      My own current preference is still a failure to heed the warning, "Beat the heat! Check the back seat!"  I have been hot and once resignation sets in there is a not unpleasant sense of explosiveness just before fainting.  And, so long as some ne'er-do-well doesn't start yelling and screaming, I'd meet my maker unconscious, which would be good for both of us.  Though probably some unfortunate would have to visit a magistrate with all the hoopla and rigmarole that entails.  Which could be why god gave us note paper.

     The Cedar Mockingbird was one legged on the electric line at seven thirty last night.  His beak was open and he was panting.  It'll be hotter today.  They have a second brood in the Apple Tree.

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