Before dawn this morning, on route to the van that takes Patrick the rest of the
way to school, I looked into the northern sky and observed those long whitish
streaks.  What's that?  Aroraborialis...Northern Lights, says I.  Cool, sez he.
We don't talk much on those trips...but we don't play head games with each other
either.  Too damn early.

-jc

Ken Follett wrote:

> unHampton Hurricane
>
> I left the house in the morning to go to town to work and while I was gone
> the remnants of the hurricane came along and made a shambles of the
> neighborhood where we live. The large dead branches of oaks fell, acorns
> fell, whole oak trees fell on houses. Loose chickens were blown around in the
> woods, mixing with dead brown leaves. It was wet. Raccoons suddenly found
> themselves swimming in the bay. High tide reached out for the house.
>
> When I got home that evening, with the sun setting, it was all over. A
> pleasant calmness. Like so many events in my life, my wife told me about her
> day in the house, in the storm, while I watched the Weather Channel.
>
> XXX
>
> This time of year I think about hurricanes.
> ][<en
>
> --
> To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
> uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
> <http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>