Happy Solstice Eve!

Cold, wet, raw, cloudy, -- the only thing missing from a December morning along the southern coast of Massachusetts is the smell of salt marsh. We were out in this atypical, for our North Country, weather, getting a chore or two done. In the process, we got to sit on wet tractor seats, wrestle with stubborn trailer hitches and ball carriers, and generally act as if we were 30 or 40 years younger than we are. We almost had fun but going out to play in cold, wet, weather caused our arthritis to act up. We wonder how stiff we may be tomorrow. If we don't stiffen up too much, we may consider today a trial run for possible Winter fly-fishing trips. We spend too much time in a soft chair fussing about the state of the world.

a Winter Solstice celebratory fire

Photo by J. Harrington

As we all know, tomorrow is Winter Solstice. With today's weather, most of our available wood is going to be soaking and temperatures dropping back below freezing will forestall the availability of our garden hose to provide a safety net for burning the brush pile as a bonfire. Plus, if Runny Babbit or any of the local reptiles have their Winter abode under the pile, we wouldn't want to evict them on Solstice, or so close to Christmas. One of our local Third Places is having a Solstice Celebration tomorrow evening. That prospect looks very appealing to us today.

Speaking of appealing, former Governor Carlson has a Community Voices piece in MinnPost that appeals to us quite a bit. To give you a hint, it's titled When is a surplus not a surplus? To paraphrase, our former Governor finds both major political parties guilty of deceiving the public on Minnesota state revenues and expenses forecasts. We tend to concur with former Governor Carlson and, in fact, find that the longer he makes pronouncements as a former governor, the more appealing we find many of his assessments.

The War Budget

Jessie Pope, 1868- 1941

Hodge waded through the weekly news,
    “The Income Tax,” he said,
“That’s nowt to me, I shallunt lose,
    ’Twill hit the boss instead. 
Lloyd Garge he be the man for I,
    Us poor have nowt to bear.”
He paused—then gave a dismal cry:
    “They’re goin’ to tax my beer!”

“A good thing too!” replied his wife.
    “’Twill keep you from the pub,
Swilling each evening of your life,
    While I work at the tub!”
Across the inglenook she reached,
    The welcome news to see,
Then, in resentful clamour, screeched:
    “3d. a pound on tea!”

                                    MORAL

To foot the bill it’s only fair 
    That everyone should do their share,
And since we all are served the same,
    Pay and look pleasant—that’s the game.

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