“And so, about this tomb of mine . . . “

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  “VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity!  Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back?  Nephews—sons mine … ah God, I know not! Well—  She, men would have to be your mother once,  Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was!  What’s done is done, and she is dead beside,  Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since,  And as she died so must we die ourselves,  And thence ye may perceive the world’s a dream.  Life, how and what is it?  As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees,  Hours and long hours in the dead night,  I ask “Do I live, am I dead?”  Peace, peace seems all.  Saint Praxed’s ever was the church for peace;  And so, about this tomb of mine.  I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know:  —Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care;  Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner  South He graced his carrion with,  God curse the same!  Yet still my niche is not so cramped...

“Oh, The Weather Outside Is . . . “

 This time of year one might be inclined to say “frightful.“ We live in an age when every single weather report seems loaded with more negativity than positivity. The forecasters say we need more rain and we need more sun. We can’t wait for warmer temperatures but it’s too hot and can’t wait till it cools off. Opinions about the weather spin like a weathervane in a tornado. If I were to choose a word about the weather I choose the word “fascinating.”

Hans Christian Anderson said, “The whole world is a series of miracles, but we're so used to them we call them ordinary things.”


Our weather is miraculous. Farmers work with it while the traveler plans against it. The blinding brightness of day is quenched with the turning of the earth, plunging us into smothering darkness in a handful of hours. The air heats and cools so drastically we sometimes heat ourselves at night and cool ourselves at day. Those clouds that block the sun are weighted with millions of gallons of water, untold thousands of pounds that merely float above our heads until they break, often smashing everything that lies beneath. Have you ever seen rain falling from a distant cloud, observing how it never reaches the ground? Or be spit upon by raindrops under a blazing sun? There’s a storm over there and clear skies just down the road. And all that electricity!



I hiked a trail in 2015 with a thick cloud bank on my left, and a clear view on the right. 


Weather is an everyday thing, so ordinary that it is the most common subject of the smallest talk. But take a closer look, and we could wonder for hours! 

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