More at the Edge

The real coffee drinkers always seem to find room, with a view of the Edge of the Earth. If they are total narcissist like myself, they never flinch approaching the abyss. But it is not about what is not there over “there”, but what is there, imagined or otherwise. There are a bunch of new fancy cars in the parking lot, up near the road so they can stay away from the Edge. You can always tell the newbies, other than the dogs directing them to tables.

Today has brought a strong western wind, the second day for tree-ripping weather. A few leaves remain stuck to their branches, but most leaves are in the hedge rows. The few snow flakes were as likely to be blown up and sideways as down. None remain on the ground. Are they all blown into the Edge of the Earth? It is a thought, but even the Edge of the Earth would accumulate some evidence of snow’s presence. Not a drip in the creek.

Concern has been raised about the mental health of anyone, me being the subject of the conversation, who spends his days at the Edge of the Earth. The narcissism of this subject being open to “why the hell would any adult do….” whatever. The point is well taken. But somebody has to take responsibility for all of God’s creation which he has turned over to man. I just happen to be the Sheppard of the Edge of the Earth.

It is alleged that a strong river flowed through the crevasse, deep at the base, of the Edge prior to my stewardship. That could be. If you care to explore and do an archeological study of the Edge of the Earth, then feel free to add to the paleontology of mental history.

All things equal, one cup of coffee or three, we are considering a personal view of the Edge of the Earth.  There are some rubbish rocks on sale at the check-out, dubbed Philosophers’ Stones by the purchasers. They may be correct. Candidly, I do know they are stones from the Edge of the Earth. Whether they are from over the edge is difficult to prove.

           A touch of brandy may improve the view. It is a cloudless day.

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