The skies here in northern Florida continue to be gray and mucky. My nursery
of seedlings in their “halfway house pots” at the back door stagnate in the
constant un-sun. They are bravely holding on, but apart from my singular Sweet
Pea who has a freaky “I am a survivor!” kink, the plants have not grown so much
as a hiccup this last gray, heavy week.
This is all understandable, acceptable even. They are plants, after all.
They need sun to “breathe.”
I, on the other hand, am a human being. I should not need sun to live.
When God made us, we were given all these handy-dandy tools to assure
survivability in…
1.) a cave (I guess, in case your three-hour spelunking jaunt suddenly
goes fubar and you’re forced to munch on guano for the rest of your really fun
life),
2.) outer space, on the dark side of the moon to be exact. Just because
there have been no documented attempts at this yet, you know there’s someone
crazy enough out there to do it. (SIDE NOTE: not me.)
3.) the far northern/southern reaches of the world where the midnight
sun is only the printable half of the story. (You won’t find “Land of the
Constant Dark” on any travel brochures.)
So, as this last week’s constant gray skies continue to suck the life-force
out of me with a bendy straw, I have been forced to admit that I am rather
crappy at being a human being.
Alrighty-then.
Now that we’ve got that straight, good day to you.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
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