As we move from Equinox towards Solstice, the warnings of the season's first gales are upon us. A shame, as the planned tea-light float is probably off. And Hnaef's latest attempt to tight-rope walk over the Orchard. And the balloon flight. And the outdoor badminton tournament. And the "who can stand on the Trilithon the longest" competition that Young Keith's organised. Although I always had my doubts about that one. I just don't think pelting the person on the Trilithon with wet sponges to knock them off showed true reverence for a holy artefact.
Yet it left me pondering on - on what? A dichotomy? A paradox? An ambiguity? Or something else indicating a sense of one thing, and yet a slightly different thing. The way that the gentle trickle of a stream can rise to something that floods a town the size of Waterbeach (although let's be honest, if you move to Waterbeach without wondering why it's got that name you're not really Mrs Lateral Thinker, are you). The way that the flames that gently warm the hearts of beast and Beaker Person, can burn the Moot House down. The way that a gentle breeze can cool and refresh, yet a howling gale can bring a chimney down on your conservatory. And the way that a dove's gentle cooing brings comfort, nostalgia and gladness to the human soul. Yet park your car under a tree and your windscreen suffers.
Truly the spirit moves as it wills, and we are in turns heartened and left to run screaming for cover. I feel the need for a lime tisane.
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