An English In Kentucky


















Friday November 30th 2012    Tim Candler

    A forecasted temperature of sixty Fahrenheit if accompanied by morning air that contains a scent of earth, sends some of us into unwarranted exuberance. Even if we are making deliveries for the trash collector.  I was able to think that maybe this winter was over, some movement in the planetary mood, a fed-up-ness at the same old clock, a determination to venture boldly into the unknown.  It could happen, if held my breath and believed.  But it's this set of emotions that begin financial bubbles, and end in ice storm and ruin, jumping off tall buildings and the expression "I told you so."

    Last night there was a red sky that reached across the entire western horizon.  The straight lines in it were vapor trails from jet planes.  It was so still up there those vapor trails looked like diagonals drawn with a sharp crayon and a ruler.  Then this morning, the sky was red again.  Which makes the omen a little confusing.  And the long awaited Solstice of 2012,  just three weeks away, at twelve minutes past six here in the morning, which means it'll be dark when the world ends here and even darker where Mayan priests once labored.  Which is just classic. But I guess thanks should be given to the leap year, which has put New Year's Day on a Tuesday, rather than a Monday.

Previous    Next