When I got up early Saturday morning the waning moon was low in the eastern sky with Venus close by. The crescent glowed like an incandescent lightbulb, warm and luminous, while Venus shone like a bright LED beacon. I decided it would be a good weekend to take a break from the news.
Not quite right, but you take my point
And indeed it was, the weather was perfect in the way that only late summer weather can be, more so as we sense how fleeting such days are now. The early morning air was deceptive and could have passed itself off as an early summer day, slightly cool, damp but promising of warmth to follow. It still carried the scent of summer too, a fragrant waft of summer’s last blooms. The only thing that gave it away was its whisper: it sounded more like the rustling of crinkly cellophane than the supple, silky flexibility of green foliage. Or perhaps that was just me.
In any event I enjoyed the weekend moratorium and woke this morning to the news: hurricanes barreling towards the Gulf Coast, another police ambush, wildfires burning out of control, riots in U.S. cities…why, it’s like I never left. Is it Groundhog day, week? Stretching now into months.
I thought this was supposed to be the year of the Black Swan.
What do you suppose the odds are of having a Groundhog event concurrently with a Black Swan event? By accident I mean?
I know, slim, right?
Oh well, at least I’ve found the perfect face mask to wear in this, the year of the groundhog black swan event:
Angry birds. It’s still a thing.
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