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June 18th  2011    Tim Candler

    Good rain.  But it came with angry wind, a little hail and the kind of lightning that shakes the earth.  Ancestors to their "question why?" would certainly have answered "There is no pleasing him."   And Summer Solstice close enough to touch.

    There is always a theory.  Mine, like many, tend to be self serving and not much further up the chain of display than dance.  Bright feathers and flat feet all the way to the ballroom, where the rhythm is so practiced it becomes a mimicry or representation. And how refreshing it could be to watch the men in charge of us put on the pom-pom dress and chant,  pirouette and curtsy, as once they might have done.

      It is this element of display that I think I should impress upon myself this June twenty first.  I have the hand-me-downs from much taller people, there should be sewing and the making of masks.  And how fine it would be to find feathers enough to dress in.  Though probably I would have an allergic reaction so extreme it would require attention from emergency professionals, which could be embarrassing.

     However, it is the case that the Cedar Mockingbird's child has already learned one new noise and I hope his dad's as proud as I am. 

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