The Deer, Walking

At my parent’s house beside a state park, I hear deer walking on our gravel drive throughout the night. I know suburbia has come to hate the deer and their voracious ways, but as a city boy, I’m always astounded by the sound of cloven hoofs displacing stones. Even if they are on they’re en route to devouring my mother’s ornamental plants. That and the hum of crickets and the counterpoint of frogs. And the smell of moist earth in the bottoms that have escaped the drought, the tang of wild grapes bursting, the salt of the ocean and its thrum in the near distance. It’s the variety and the wholesomeness that make me grateful. Nothing I smell is poisonous.

Wonderful, Strange, Depressing

A website by an M.D. devoted entirely to disproving the theory of evolution in impressive detail. What makes it so fascinating is that he’s obviously intelligent and does his research, yet is at the same time oblivious to the fact that he’s attacking the ocean with a sword. I am almost in awe at his undertaking. It’s like the Borges story where the guy tries to write Don Quixote as if it hadn’t already been written.

The Wrong Words

While living in Zurich, Joyce tutored two young women in English. He read to them from Ulysses, of all things. He did this to demonstrate to the girls that English was inadequate at times.

The girls asked him: Aren’t there enough words for in English?

Joyce replied: “Yes, there are enough, but they aren’t the right ones.”

While far from being Joyce, I’m having that problem tonight. I can’t find an adjective I like for ‘having a good sense of smell’.  I invented ‘Hyperosmiatic’ (I think) but it’s too scientific. I also would like a verb that means ‘to work with great concentration’ but I can’t find that either.

English, why are you letting me down? After we’ve been together for so many years.