A Luminous Halo

"Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end." --Virginia Woolf

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Location: Springfield, Massachusetts, United States

Smith ’69, Purdue ’75. Anarchist; agnostic. Writer. Steward of the Pascal Emory house, an 1871 Second-Empire Victorian; of Sylvie, a 1974 Mercedes-Benz 450SL; and of Taz, a purebred Cockador who sets the standard for her breed. Happy enough for the present in Massachusetts, but always looking East.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Silver Lining

It's been raining cats and dogs around here for the past couple of months. I keep saying I've never in my lifetime seen weather like this in New England, and, according to statistics, it's not my imagination. As of Sunday night, Boston had recorded 22.26 inches of rainfall in May and June, the most in a two-month period since record-keeping started in 1872. (The average for those two months is more like 8.2 inches.) And June isn't over yet.

Rain means clouds, and clouds mean interesting skies. Somebody with a little more meteorological savvy than I might know what kind of clouds I was passing under this afternoon as I drove through Hadley. Fast-moving and wild--they looked like they were going to engulf the mall.

These particular clouds didn't dump any rain on me. They kept on moving--thankfully, as I had a project involving a fifteen-foot Budget rental truck and some upholstered items that would not be improved by getting wet. I was watching stars twinkling overhead as I finished up.

Forecast for tomorrow: showers.

Forecast for the day after tomorrow: thundershowers.

Bring it on, Mother Nature! My chimneys have been fixed, my downspouts have been fixed, and the moving's done. I've got rubber boots, a yellow slicker, and a dog who's half Lab. I'm all set to enjoy whatever comes.