It has taken me a week to recuperate from my last post. What with the wool-gathering, rewrites, and condensing (yes, it was actually condensed), I was exhausted. Dreams, apparently, are difficult to transcribe. Makes me wonder how John the Evangelist and Nostradamus ever pulled it off.
So, with a nod to June, who initially nodded to Friko, I am going to attempt brevity with my contribution to the cult of Miss Ella Knee but will call it Tan Gents instead. I wrote in a comment that brevity was the very soul of sincerity and I do know the importance of being earnest. Hope you enjoy the cogs within wheels of my addle-pated world.
In the 15th century a law was enacted in England that a man was allowed to beat his wife with a stick no thicker than his thumb. Hence we have 'the rule of thumb'.
I contend that had the law said he could beat his wife with a stick no larger than the dimensions of his penis, domestic violence for the most part would have been greatly diminished--if not eliminated--600 years ago.
I enjoy the sound of the chickadees singing matins during my morning coffee on the porch. Lets me know I'm not alone.
I like it when a leaf wafts and wavers on the breeze before it settles on me. It has never been caressed by anything but Mother Nature and has made its way on nothing less than the breath of Creation. I consider it a gentle reminder that I am "a child of the universe; no less than the trees and stars". This also holds true for snow flakes. I have been reminded a lot lately.
And lastly, I get a huge sense of joy watching my fabulous furry flock of felines lose all dignity and decorum when the squirrels are doing their 'Flying Wallendas' routine in the trees outside. No matter how refined and evolved they purport to be, their baser instincts kick in and the noises that issue forth are a caterwauling cantata. Always makes me feel a little less inferior to listen.