Saturday, April 9, 2016


Maybe it's the memory, not long enough rather than missing, but yesterday's feel-like conditions contained four season. There was thunder, a brief outbreak of warm sun, rain, hail, snow showers followed by rain with sleet and all of it accompanied by outbreaks of gusty winds that contained that quality of howling which traditionally discourages the soul of a rugged outdoors person, he becomes sloth-like and creeping. Then around five o'clock this morning it froze.

The better prepared had a theory in place for the possibility of this predicted Freeze. A general rule with wind is that just after sun set, there's a lull to its passions, it becomes wise, it calms, says its prayers perhaps, and that's the time to take full advantage, rush into the outdoors, play merrily in the failing light with things like tarpaulins, old pillow cases, row cloth, novel curse words and weights. It's an excellent theory, subject occasionally to dramatic and extraordinary exceptions. Either way pretty sure the Hosta survived the night.

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