Saturday April 7th 2018Tim
it's wet with wind, hell on the gloves, it feels like
minus 20 Fahrenheit, a Naraka not even the Tibetans can
imagine. Currently the whole business of blanketing
delicate little dears with row cloth is a subject and
not a target, but if it gets any colder all of us will
become witnesses to a night of biting frost that will
live in infamy.
course tomorrow there will be wailing, gnashing, the
whole panoply of regret, self recrimination followed by
a re-education program that will include the
understanding that winter doesn't really end until
something like the end of May. Last time we had a
beginning of April like this there was drought through
the Fall. The notebook's faded and coffee stained but
that year looks like 2007, or 2005, I think.