Saturday 17 April 2010

Invasion of the Volcano's Breath.

I’ve been thinking all day about the difference between being sentimental and being compassionate. I managed a few tentative conclusions, but they simply refused to coalesce sufficiently for my tired old brain to do them justice in a post. I also thought a lot about animals, and how humans don’t give them enough respect. My tired old brain shook its head at that one, too. ‘Do dust,’ it said. So dust it is.

The dust cloud from the unpronounceable Icelandic volcano continues to intrude its unwholesome presence in our hallowed airspace. Only it’s becoming bolder. Now it’s intruding its presence in most of Europe’s airspace as well. Europe is grounded. The newscasters look seriously concerned; whether because they think a flightless Europe is a really serious issue, or whether because they are embarrassed at having to give the story precedence over the impending election is difficult to know. I confess to merely gloating a little. For years I’ve been waiting for nature to give us a nudge in the ribs and make us question our reliance on modern technology. A few relatively innocuous coughs from a minor volcano up in the Arctic Circle, and here we are. People are becoming increasingly concerned.

What seems to be spooking people more is the prospect of the dreaded dust abandoning the airspace and falling on our even more hallowed ground. Will we have to clean our windows more often? Will the water in the outdoor swimming pools turn grey? Is there any chance that it will melt our cars? I’m being silly, aren’t I?

What I did find spooky, though, was what happened when I went out into my garden at dusk this evening. I kept feeling little sensations on my skin, as though it were raining. I looked up at a cloudless sky, and wondered. Dust? It felt creepy. Science fictionish. I took refuge in a heartening prospect. Maybe I should go and hang around the house where Sarah, her sister and her mother live, just in case I might spot the odd naked clone slithering out of the petunia patch. Being silly again, aren’t I?

It was probably just the fairies saying hello. Now I'm being serious.

4 comments:

ArtSparker said...

Man proposes, Thor disposes. It's interesting that it's being treated as annoyance, an impingement, when it is , as you say, an indication of humanity's real importance on the globe.

JJ said...

In the novel I wrote recently, the protagonist meets the Oracle. She tells him that both Plato and Solon misunderstood the story of Atlantis - that it wasn't an historical story of a lost civilisation, but a prediction for the global future. I wonder...

M said...

Just a quick post to say thank you for your kind words on my blog. I'm glad you stopped by, it's nice to see what others think and any thoughts or advice they give. :)

JJ said...

Megan: If you're referring to the comments about the photographs, you're welcome. I used to be a pro photographer, and I might add this. I'm not sure whether that top pic of the flowers and the blue plate is yours. If it is, you certainly know how to take pictures. The relationship between the multi-coloured flowers and the overall blue tone is superb. The lines are near-perfect, and the contrast between the textures of the flowers and the 'birds nest' suggests a refined instinct. Well done.