Amidst a break while turning compost to add to the transplanting of six artichoke seedlings, I noticed the evolved arrangement of my seat and three others and recalled its progress the afternoon before.
The return of the namesake of Ella Falls to Piddle Pond occasioned a reunion with her family after they ODed on NYC after a few years which in turn meant her mistress, lesser known as Babyldorkgalactinerd, again graced the pondside of which she is the reigning priestess and algae redecorator — hail Eris! My joy runneth over.
A gathering of she and her court, Timothy Cleverporque and Henry DeVino caused a line of chairs to form along the path to the shed facing out into the property where I just happen to be procrastinating the swift completion of a projection I’ve entertained for over a year, my own chicken coop. When I took a break I sat in a fourth chair behind the row, and as conversation became more cerebral and less about events before them in the present, such as my carpentering ingenuity or Ella’s elegance in the sunlight, we turned the chairs around to face in a circle as is tradition in America when there’s a pipe to be passed or conversation to be had.
This morning, alone in the quiet breeze of a sunrise that has been occurring for the entire existence of Earth those four chairs represented the human race turning from symbiotically observing nature as a guide and a prime consideration in our behavior to form circles with their backs to nature’s distractions from plans to assert mastery over it, within and without. Civilization is nature designed by a committee.