Ever had a day where your mind is cluttered and you’ve just spent hours wading through the news and it is both literally and figuratively cloudy, but then you look up to see a gorgeous little Monarch butterfly flutter by?
That’s me, today:)
Here’s to the many neighbors who have joined us in growing milkweed and other plants for these beauties, and to happy surprises!
I am a humble man. I made my fortune the old-fashioned way, through grit, determination, and a small multi-million-dollar loan from my father. And now I’m trying to achieve something beyond what humans have ever imagined: a giant toxic goo pit.
I see no particular merit in the fact that I was an artist at the age of eleven. I was born with an ability, with music in me, that is all. No special credit was due me. The only credit we can claim is for the use we make of the talent we are given. That is why I urge young musicians: “Don’t be vain because you happen to have talent. You are not responsible for that; it was not of your doing. What you do with your talent is what matters. You must cherish this gift. Do not demean or waste what you have been given. Work — work constantly and nourish it.” — Pablo Casals, Spanish Catalan cellist and conductor
This phrase popped into my mind after a cloudburst rolled through overhead. We’ve been having more of those in the past few of years, intense concentrations of Nature’s power blasting through an otherwise clear weather map. It makes me miss the grey skies of summer rain, and the gentle drops that encouraged growth rather than washing it away.
The phrase also sounded very familiar, and a quick check assured me that yes, it was a variant on the title of a Ray Bradbury short story. It’s not a cheerful story by any means, but it is classic Bradbury.
I found the story available here, along with a lot of other classics from the likes of HG Wells to George MacDonald to Bradbury, Christie, Chesterton, Gilman, and many more.
“Life is pointless, and absurd, and magical and cruel and edifying and jaw-droppingly beautiful, sometimes all in the same week. And the meaning you’re able to construct from that swirl of chance and circumstance and self-determination is up to you… It’s worth it. You will make it worth it.” — Maura Judkis
My trip to the mailbox this morning began peacefully enough, a quiet stroll through a slowly brightening day. Then I looked up. The sun hung in a hazy sky, its light filtered by particulates from fires in Quebec, leaving a visible disk that looked like a second moon. The smoke changed the usual morning light from bright yellow to a darker, ruddier hue. Very dramatic.
Today’s forecast? Thunderstorms, which brought to mind the old adage about skies and sailors. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning.” It turns out to be based on atmospheric science, and while the logic doesn’t hold up everywhere all the time (and yes, smoke can interfere with its accuracy), it can be useful.
The folklore lines up with two pieces of plain physics: how air moves and how light scatters. Low pressure pulls air together and lifts it, which builds clouds and brings rain. High pressure does the opposite. Air sinks and spreads out, which keeps the sky clear and traps dust and fine particles near the ground. Sailors learned the shorthand long before anyone measured a millibar: low pressure for foul weather, high pressure for fair.
Happily, forewarned is forearmed (to use another old adage). Now I wait, and watch for the coming storm.
The path to good runs through bad, and that goes for art forms we don’t even consider art forms, like friendship, parenthood, and citizenship. But the only thing that gets us better is practice. — Hank Green
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