Your Editor has done you proud this week, people: as usual, this issue looks like a brilliantly-conceived tour de force requiring careful planning, bold execution, and daring excursions to far-flung locations on the part of intrepid reporters dedicated to revealing the inmost secrets of whatever has got inmost secrets.
In reality, of course, it was the usual drill: people dumped their phones/cameras in the general direction of my inbox with the familiar airy insouciance of those who suddenly remembered that 'oh, I promised you some photos, didn't I?' If I was very lucky, they thought to tell me where in the world they happened to be when they saw this or that. My requests for further information met with growls of annoyance and, often, replies that further confused the issue.
I had comic arguments with Paige. Paige told me many things I didn't want to know, and little that I did. I threw up my hands and did the research myself. As a result, I believe you have some rather interesting material to read here. Some of it might surprise the original photographers, who may not have known all that.
Of course, not everyone represented in these pages is a Suzy Q. The concluding segment of Bluebottle's memorial journey to the Netherlands is informative, entertaining, and insightful. SashaQ has a sharp, observant eye when it comes to squirrels. Paulh will tell you about plants that grow in the shade. (Thanks to my in-house photo-editing tools, you can also see them.) Tavaron knows her plants and her camerawork.
Still, mysteries remain: there's a caterpillar, but what is it when it grows up? What about those minerals? There are two toads. Can you identify them? Anybody who comes up with 'cute' names will be mocked mercilessly by Superfrenchie, who has our permission to do this in French. You are warned. I have also warned her against reading Awix's review this week. Mr Branagh has made another Poirot movie and our critic has dusted off the Clouseau accent. Read at your peril.
Walnuts fall, but where are my squirrels? Birds fly. A robin visits. The moon shows up and is decorative. Paulh remembers ghosts and I remember a plant physiologist who failed to support the midnight movie industry. There is a lot to find in this week's issue. Please do so, start NICE discussions (unless you're complaining about Awix's French accent), and share with your friends and internet mutuals.
And now to be earnest. You know, and I know, and the angels in heaven and the demons in hell know, that this world is not, on the whole, a happy place right now. There are wars and rumours of wars. People are living in fear. People are hungry, cold, and being driven from pillar to post. Solutions are few and far between and mostly inadequate. If you aren't furious about this, you aren't paying attention.
So why in the name of all that is holy, you might ask, are we here telling silly stories?
Why are we taking pictures of squirrels and robins and flowers? Why are we making jokes and comparing weather? Don't we know this is serious?
Yes. Yes, we do. We are all too aware of the sadness, the danger, and the worry. And when we're not doing what we do here, we're doing we can for each other.
But think about this, friends: if we don't talk to each other, how can we show people how to communicate without hate and hostility?
If we don't notice the small things, who will do this? Who but we will write down, 'On this day, a robin said hello to me'? Who will sit and watch the birds circling in the blue sky and say, 'This, too, is of Earth'? Children, it's our job to look, and see, and tell.
Movers and shakers out there, go on and move and shake: we can't stop you. Raise the rafters with your threatening voices. Strut and rant about how important you are.
But dammit, we'll still let everyone know that this planet is more than just 'mostly harmless'.
Have a good week.
Quote of the Week. The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.
– Ecclesiastes 1:9, Authorised Version
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