Enigma Of The Indoor Moon

For those few readers who have not heard about three expert observers discovering a second moon orbiting our planet, I refer you to this transcription taken from (scientist and metaphysician) Will's list a decade ago --Click here please .

Here is an update:

The thumb-shaped object in 2nd Moon's lower hemisphere is my thumb. Most people in its northerly trajectory over California build their ground-floor halls in that direction --and furnish doggie doors at each end so moon can get in and out without mishap. It orbits Earth at about 4 and1/2 feet. Still, people here, and Oregon --Washington and West-coast Canada-- must sometimes grab it or nudge it to keep it from banging into things. Here's another Normaphoto:

My Portuguese, Brazilian and Roman fore-bearers called her Pequena Luna and have always helped her through our houses. And, tradition has it that if you give her a kiss on her way, she will perform a lovely light show on her way out.

Safe orbit, Little Moon! Watch for traffic and pedestrians!

Then, I let her go.

E(a)rnest Inert!!!

I stepped out into morning heat. There was an ambitious breeze making some attempt at cooling but succeeding only in stirring the heat. I got worried about E(a)rnest and went looking for him. He was up in a tall privet, collapsed, inert. 

I said in quiet eulogy, "Oh dear E(a)rnest, I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you when the End came."

To which I was glad to hear....

"Huh? What end?

...Is it over?"
"Apparently, and joyously, not", I replied. "It's just that I came to wish you good morning and found you inert."

"Geo. finding a squirrel unresponsive on a hot morning is like asking a horse, 'Why the long face?' -- it's an inconsiderate thing."

"I didn't realize. Of course you minimized exertion to avoid overheating. Hopefully that is our only violation of inter species correctness."

"Your violation, Geo.! Consider your specie's introduction of hyphens."

"Hyphens?"

"Yes, how were you taught to spell the status of someone who works with you?"

"Coworker?"

"Exactly, Geo., and it was an inter-species committee of humans and bovines who changed that spelling, added the hyphen, and 'Co-worker' obtained. Socio-political conservatives feared many cows would go unorked --until even they realized they had no idea what 'orking' is and the cows didn't either. The Supreme Court Decision had no impact on the cattle industry --because they never admitted to any cow orking  anyway."

"Where are we going with this discussion, E(a)rnest?"

"Into what every morning brings, a whole new world. Follow me, Geo.!"

"Later E(a)rnest, I'm not quite so ert as you are!"

Rock- Paper- Lizard --visual enigma

First, I must describe this picture and the reason it moved me. Norma had laid out paper for some potting soil she was experimenting with over an area of pea gravel. Then she noticed a four-footed procession of cohesive pea gravel scampering across the paper. She took a Normaphoto.

I was immediately reminded of a game that I've never understood. Rock-paper-scissors never made sense to me --still doesn't. So many things have not made sense to me. 

50 years ago, I was in college learning to be confused. I was successful. I was good at it! I learned humans developed intelligence to protect themselves from their own kind. I remembered the excellent JFK quote, "Too often we enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought."

That still didn't help me with rock-paper-scissors --but that was the past. That was yesterday. Another thing I learned in school is a clock only measures its face. The real difference between yesterday and today --and likewise, tomorrow-- cannot be physically measured by a clock or nailed down in our brains. It is an interval that gives onto infinity. Even the seasons, like 100 degrees Fahrenheit (today) cannot dislodge themselves from cyclic orbital rhythm. It means I can only set down drinks that ants crawl into and die.

I am pleased to have solved the enigma of rock-paper-lizard by discovering the the misnomer, "scissors", and discarding it. I nearly wrote 'throwing it out' but you should never throw scissors.

Field-Elf Enigma

In 1963, I was a Boy Scout. Mr. Taliaferro, our scoutmaster, arranged a troop bike ride into the foothills. We would meet at 6 a.m. at Sierra Enterprise School and set out at daybreak. I lived only 5 miles away but somehow got rambuctious and set out an hour early. I parked my bike in the rack and made my way to the gate beside the principal's office. Mr. Mollett, the custodian and bus driver, always locked the chain with a foot and a half of play so people could get in. I did, stood on the outdoor ramp, and waited for others to arrive. I settled back against a steel pole and watched light gather at the gate. Then, I saw it.

A tiny head peeked out of the gloom, looked all round --at me too!-- then dashed across the dim-lit concrete ramp. Another followed and another, five in all. These were tiny, well-proportioned humanoids --nearly 2 feet tall-- with very strong, very fast legs.

All the crazy conduiting behind him is mine from the 1980s decade --a time of monetary conservation when I would chisel things out of felled trees. He's been on the washing machine in the porch since last Saturday. Norma's Mom is clearing her home and returned it to us for re-gifting. I gave it to them in 1990 to enhance their wonderful garden --in which Norma and I had our wedding 20 years earlier. Norma transferred him to her studio to be packed for shipment to our Daughter, who requested it.

When Field-elf was still under construction, we had (one of many) visits from Sally (childhood friend of Daughter) and her parents. Her Dad grew up on a farm near the school mentioned above and asked me about the carving. I told him the story. He said not many Occidentals knew about the Yōsei (supernatural little ones) but, as a kid, he was sent out early in the morning to chase them off the crops.

 

Daughter, all grown up now and living back East, should receive it next week. 

 

Jeremiad, or Just a Rough Spot?

A jeremiad is kind of scriptural catalogue of lamentations produced by the prophet Jeremiah and his editor, Baruch ben Neriah about 2500 years ago. It is a genre that cannot be exaggerated. I have tried. A photo:

This doodle is reminiscent of a conversation I had with another hick, the fence-hopping twangy kind. He'd wander over while I was rebuilding this crumbly old farmhouse and drawl at me. We saw a "V" formation of geese fly over and he twanged, "Why is one side of the 'V' always longer than t'other?"

I replied, "I don't know. Does anyone?"

He said,"I do:  More geese on that side."

Then he died. No, I wasn't involved. Happened months later. But it got me thinking of jeremiads. We have modest ones throughout our lives. We become sad or alarmed.

When we learn the South Pole has no government, we worry that it exists in a state of antarcty. I refuse to move there and likewise distrust the motives of those who want to "save me from myself."

In short, we've had some sadness here (not a jeremiad yet). However I urge this assumption upon all readers: You have a smile that brightens the world, that captures the affection of all who are lucky enough to see it...

...so write me.
 

BUGS, BIG BUGS!!

Here is a Normaphoto of a bug she found under a pile of rakings:

Its butt is resting on a eucalyptus leaf. Eucalyptus leaves are about 2 and 1/2 inches long. I would estimate bug's length 2 inches. I believe it is some sort of beetle who, like all Nature's creatures, needs to be as big as it must be to do its job. I have owned a beetle:

It was a 1967 Volkswagen Beetle. I drove this Bug for 35 years. One incredibly early morning I was on interstate 5 headed to work and something strange happened. The car behind me roared onto the left lane and started honking. I rolled my window down. He did too. He pointed and yelled, "Man, your engine's on fire!"

I yelled,"Thank you!" and pulled over.

I sat for a moment, and gathered my gear, then my registration from sunvisor pocket, then prudently stepped out of the Bug. Turned on my cell phone. I called work.

Our supernaturally efficient office manager answered and said "I'm watching 'Eye In The Sky' news right now. I'll patch you in to the fire dept."

They answered, "Oh, we know where you are!"

Then I called Norma, told her I might be late coming home. She said, "The kids are watching you on the news right now. Wave to the helicopter. Oh! They're thrilled!"

Tow truck driver dropped me off at work, but not before asking why I was a little teary-eyed. I told him, "My wife and I had our first date in that car --I took her to see the San Francisco production of "Hair" in 1969. Got married a year later."

He got a little teary-eyed too and reached over to give me a right-arm hug. "Dangerous, beautiful years, bro."

Triple-A drivers are always right. Wish I had one to ask what kind of beetle Norma found in the brush pile.

Oh Bountious Fevered Spring!

It is springtime! We who have reached the age of sentiment --what, 1 day old and above?-- feel that lovely return of a loving Earth. Our kitchen walls --hangings and bouquets-- look like this:

Aggressive Carpenter Bees come out of their wooden tunnels and coat their backs with pollen, to ease our minds about them stinging anybody very much. Darth Vader could've used some yellow pollen on him.

As you may have already surmised, I have no idea what my  subject is here --except the gentle, enigmatic possibilities of springtime. It is a time when movies let up on violence a little and concentrate on scripts that have characters chewing each others clothes off.  Even martial arts films settle down to combats like Feng Shui --oh no? you haven't seen how I practice it-- and the devastating discipline of Fukurettsura (ふくれっ面 =Japanese for pouting, sulking). I am really good at it. Bullies don't want to mess with me.

 So, let's repair to nature, rapidly encroaching around the barn. Here we see a wild rose climbing a plum tree --a view that incriminates our impatience with sweet fruits-- with barbed flowers that protect, judge, and remand us into the custody of our imaginations.

To all, a beauteous, gladsome spring!