Today, the first of June, according to meteorologists, marks the beginning of the Atlantic Hurricane Season. I don’t know what your plans are, but I’m hoping to hit the Hallmark Store on the way home to get a card, weather permitting of course.
Considering the havoc in recent weeks that’s been visited upon huge expanses of the Mid and South West, and the ever increasing severity of the drought across the Western States(not forgetting the pounding much of us, but more especially those in the Northeast, took this past winter), there’s something vaguely “Olden Days” about a weather pattern or condition being pinned to a point on a calendar.
Breathe easy. I’m not trying to make a stealth point about the impact and/or consequences of human behavior and global warming, though I do believe there’s a correlation, otherwise God/Mother Nature/the Universe simply hates us. You can make up your own mind, but buying futures in umbrella manufacturing companies may not be a bad idea. Y’know, help you put away a little nest egg for a rainy day (did you see what I did there? Pretty suave, eh).
It’s either amazing or amusing that we are the only species on this planet to create a measurement system for a concept we casually call time which slices and dices and amalgamates and aggregates every moment, waking and sleeping, into seconds, minutes and days, all components of something we call a week which cumulatively become a year, a decade, a century.
Sometimes we get lost in the noise of counting and calculating and forget the point is living the life everything else measures.