Vol. 37, February 28th, 2023
Now available in Podcast form:
Either on SoundCloud, or by listening on Substack (see above.)
Remember the Sky
Staying Locked on What’s Real
I’ve been spending too much time on Twitter.
“Outrage!” “The End of Civilization!” It never stops. (TV can be the same.) Have you ever heard the crazy idea from quantum physics that states the Universe only exists if we’re observing it? I did my part today, turned off the screen, and looked the sky into existence. Or maybe it brought me back to Life. A few early spring gnats danced in the afternoon sunlight, the breeze keeping time in the golden brown broom sage. A maple blushed red in the dell. Back in a secret hollow, an obscure brook tinkled icily down the mountain. I sat by the delicious sound, watching the clear water sprint over rocks half a billion years old. Stream-side, The Witch Hazel offered tiny lime green hopes - spring buds. The oak leaves were crunchy under my boots on the way down the mountain. It was good to remember what’s real.
Photo of the Week
Venus and Jupiter (upper) shine brightly in the Western sky at dusk. They’ll appear to be closest (at conjunction) on March 1st. Keep an eye out!
Looking west towards Lynchburg, VA
Book of the Week
The Phantom Tollboth (Norton Juster) is a delight of puns, wordplay, and deep metaphor. While written for a younger audience, all ages will enjoy this gem from 1961.
Reader Spotlight:
Nancy S. has been on 17 cruises, and will beat you in shuffleboard. She lives near Richmond, VA.
Down the Rabbit Hole
It was today in 1849 that the first boatload of gold diggers (the literal kind) landed in San Francisco. The California Gold Rush was on. From the history, cinema, and stories based on the event, to local prospecting, it’s a fascinating topic to research. Let us know what you...dig up. :)
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #123)
Howdy, folks! Previously on our wacky tale: Electro dives into the safety of Miss Stella’s establishment one step ahead of shadowy figures, glad to have a palm left to read. Art, Chief Astrologer and head of security, greets him before going to “clean up the neighborhood.” Lady Wilkes cuts John’s philosophy lecture short to the point. “I believe the Nihilist Order (NO) is our international enemy. Perhaps they’ve stolen your citrine gem.” This is...
The Return of Dr. Electro - #17: Unseen Company
Miss Stella rounded the corner with the delicacy of a freight train. Electro was pinned in her gaze. Babies had a similar effect on Electro, except their stare couldn’t name his sins. Scratch yards - Miss Stella looked across a thousand years. Was that a grain of the sands of time caught in a wrinkle by her dark eyes, or just a clump of makeup? Electro was undecided about past lives, but if his previous incarnation had robbed a stagecoach, she already knew. Tinsel Vision. Wait, be cool. His breath returned with a rattle, betraying his agitation.
“Ah, our formerly young hero, off to save the Citrine for Lady Wilkes.” Miss Stella’s cackle was ambiguous, friendly and sarcastic, well-rehearsed in sixty five years of delivery.
“Put your eyes back in, young man. Relax! I’m friends with Lady W. I didn’t read it off Charlotte’s palm. She told me her story, and I’ve heard the other side. You’re in luck. I’m going to read tea leaves with Lady W. tomorrow. We’ll smuggle you all over in the Tarot Van.
Your friends are down the hall with a proper meal. Do you like cabbage? Follow me.”
Electro found his manners a split second after he remembered his childhood goldfish making the same gaping, wordless motions. He followed Miss Stella down the coral hall.
***
Back East, Claire broke the silence. “International enemy, John? I thought my auntie’s gems were nice, but don’t the museums have the stuff that bad men would go after? Why us? Is the mafia after us? Or spies from Austria? Oh John, what is happening?”
Lady Wilkes clenched her revolver. No answers, graffiti on the wall, two strangers in her shed, one of ‘em quite the philosopher. “Yeah, keep talking, punks.” John rubbed his beard.
The second man cleared his throat. “We’re not always proud of our work, but we usually understand it. Until now. We’re as puzzled as you. Seems a good time to reform, eh John?”
***
The garden shed had been forgotten by the women inside, but it wasn’t empty. A flicker of a candle danced feebly on the ceiling. A shadow took form, stood up, muttered something, propped the door, and extinguished the candle with a hiss. “Fools!”
...To be continued next week...