Simple, eh?

Imbolc                                                    Waning Wild Moon

Tomorrow Allan, the Grout Doctor, operates on the steam bath.  It’s been in place for 12 years or so and has some missing grout, some iron deposits, some loose tile.  He’ll give it an acid bath.  Sounds like the act of a vandal, but no, we’re going to pay him to do this.  After the acid bath some other folks will come and take out the current door.  Then, Allan will return to remove tiles and fix grout.  The door people will come and replace the door. Allan will come back and seal the entire steam bath.  Then he’ll come back  one more time and seal it a second time.  Hopefully, by this time, the tomatoes will be ripe and we’ll be able to send some home with him.

Simplicity may exist; it might.  Somewhere.  The world, however, has layers of complexity all the way down and all the way inside and all the way outside.  Think of it.  Our own cells, the cells that constitute our bodies, our very selves, are a minority population, only a 20th of the total cellular life in and on our body, the other 19/20 composed of microbes living in symbiotic relation with us or just living on or in us.  Complexity outside the human body begins with the other 6.8 billion people out there, but includes all the other animals, plants, fungi, rocks, water, air, chemicals everything and then of course we leave the earth and there is the solar system and our local galaxy and our local region and then the rest, all the rest.  In the end though there may be nothing quite as complex as the human mind, consciousness, which consists of a blooming, buzzing confusion (to borrow from William James) of synaptic pulses, stored memories and sensory input.

The Sun! The Sun!

Imbolc                                        Waning Wild Moon

On these days I often think of Fantasy Island, when Tatto would say, The plane!  The plane!  I want to run outside in the street and yell, The sun!  The sun!  After a long run of dreary weather the sight of the sun climbing higher and higher in the sky bucks us up and makes us eager for the end of winter.  By now we have earned our spring and the joys of the cold and snow have begun to fade when weighed against the possibility of flowers and vegetables and outdoor walks.

Most of us do not come to this place without some regret and I’m among them, a part of me yearning for the depths of winter with its ascetic cold and its spare landscape, but the gardener in me has begun to awaken, thinking of which vegetable to put in which plot, how much, what new flowers might look good.

Another 1,300 words in before Kate and I began to check our work chapter 6 of Wheelock.  She’s improving fast, as I knew she would.  Working together does make a difference, a major positive difference.  And just think how surprised the natives will be when we start using our newly acquired Latin on them.

What’s that?  All dead?  Really?  Whoa, that’s a pity, all this language and no place to speak it.

Sierra Club legcom tonight.  7:00 pm sharp.