My first post, and heaven knows where this is going. I will have to narrow the focus one day soon; but not quite yet. Later. It's like the old joke about sinning no more. Yes, Lord, I'll go and sin no more, but not yet... not now. It's a grand and summerish day in South Carolina, but farmers and horticulturists won't agree that it's such a wonderful Tuesday, this Fat Tuesday and Super Tuesday all rolled into one. I must check my horiscope today, because this confluence of events must have some cosmic significance beyond my meager human abilities to discern. What the hell. Between Ground hog day and Lent we're plumb outta days to celebrate just for the fun of it. Every day seems to be taken any more. We're told what to honor and remember constantly throughout the year. Now we hardly remember how to simply allow all the sensual elements of a given day wash over us without identification, without imposed symbols.

Some time soon, farmers will worry about early peaches freezing when the Canadian air returns; they will wonder momentarily why God plays these cruel games. And Visitors Bureaus will worry about azaleas flowering too soon, thus reminding the Augusta National elders that their power is not absolute. But farmers and children will not try to name the "why". They need not apply labels and marketing jingles to the effect, because they have direct knowledge. For them the Eucharistic wine sidesteps symbol. Wonder has no name.