Life at the Lake

a diary of living at a small lowland lake


Early moonrise over Lake Ketchum

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and s-integrator


Sunset vision, or something like that


Not the end of the recognizable world, but merely another spectacular late-September sunset.

Oh. Just had a vision of 9/11. Bush aloft in Air Force One, Cheney hidden in the bunker (to ensure continuity of the government in case Bush gets blown up, you understand).

And where is Junior Senator from Massachusetts? Seems he has commandeered a PT boat and is cruising up and down the Potomac, looking for the Enemy.

Ha.ha ha.

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These are beginning to show up in alarming quantity. . . .


We lose a few. Even the rhododendrons drop leaves in autumn. ("Autumn" being a fancy name for fall.) There is great beauty in death, in the dying off of things, providing one choose to look at life this way. It is not always easy to do so. There is great sadness there, too.

One of the chief things the Japanese enjoy about the cherry trees is the ephemeral nature of their blooms. It gives them, especially the Buddhists, a reminder of the fleeting nature of things. True, this is sad, but it also beautiful. Life is short, and this is the nature of things. Life . . . passes.

I think the Christian idea of heaven is really a concept of hell. For instance, think of all your relatives and loved ones "waiting" for you, up on a cloud (so to speak). Impossible as it is to envision, to conceive, it is also horrible. I think the idea of life truly passing and there be nothing but silence and the absence of pain in the so-called future is not at all bad. It think it may be something to look forward to—if that is not an oxymoron of the first order.

If not the first order, surely the second.

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Next day. . . .


He/she et it.

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This is the season. . . .


'Tis the season for spiders, and this little guy was busily darting around, spinning his web, or hers, in sticky threads, and a few minutes later had caught a something in it is mesh and bundled it all up tightly in its silken threads and, now, stands protectively over its prey, proudly, not knowing whether to eat it or save it to nibble on for later.

Or so I write today's spidery scenario, from a human perspective (the pathetic fallacy, it is called), and may be all wrong from a biological standpoint, but what the hey I'm only human, and it is hard to imagine yourself a spider, and not all beneficial, no matter how illuminating.

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