Tuesday November 26th 2013 Tim
The snow last night was gone by this
morning. But, we did get our chance to briefly gaze upon its
falling under electric light. As well, there is a chance of more
snow tonight. Which maybe is a good in our small world, because since
around the middle of August, The Artist has spent more than a couple of
hundred hours preparing shapes, on the off chance it might snow.
Tufted Cedars, patterns in grass, the drifting path, leaf pile number
two, and my own favorite, leaf pile number one. There's The Dirndl and a
host of others, many in the further reaches where I'm reluctant to
venture through the course of any winter season, owing to an intense
dislike of unnecessary exercise, getting cold and wet, or that
fate worse than a Tic bite, "becoming rosy cheeked."
Granted winter is a hellishness, and you can make up any
feeble excuse you want to justify it. My own excuse has
basically been reduced to a conviction that marmite tastes
better when day time temperature does not exceed 33 degrees
Fahrenheit. Classic pomposity on my part I know, but
I'll go further into this mire and add that shapes hold a
peculiar interest. To explain it, I could say, "there
is the obvious of voluptuousness." A combination of
shape that can defy any ability to control impulse, the
lateral habenula completely bypassed, a circumstance that
can reduce mental activity to wailing and howling, and is
sometimes followed by an intense depression that includes
odd behavior and rambling prose. And you can call it a
poor reaction from the endocrine system if you wish to.
But me, I am looking forward to snow on The Artist's hard
work, which means I'll be spending today hunting down
balaclava and wooly socks. "It's all rather exciting,"
which is how Nietzsche described the Franco Prussian War.