709. Treasures gleaned

It was the chance of a life time; in fact, it was a rare privilege. Benjamin had been given the opportunity to live for a year far, far away from civilization, in the heartland of the indigenous peoples. He would learn from their ancient wisdoms.

He had read that by looking up at the sky, the people could tell what the weather would be like for the next week. By seeing a person’s footprint in the soil, they could tell how many hours or days or weeks or months had passed since that footprint fell. By seeing how early this or that tree flowered, it was known how long the summer would be. The height in the tree that such and such a bird nested was an indication of whether or not to make hay. Simply by placing an ear to the ground, you could tell the distance and number of a grazing herd. And the moon! They planted gardens and crops by the phases of the moon!

All these things Benjamin would learn. They would be treasures gleaned to last a life time; a richness of wisdom to serve through the years ahead!

There’s one now, sitting on his own in the corner of the local country pub! It’s the chief! The inheritor of these ancient wisdoms! The leader of the peoples!

“Hi!” said Benjamin. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” said the paramount chief. “How are you?”

“Good,” said Benjamin. “What’s the weather going to do?”

“I don’t know,” said the chief. “I haven’t had the radio on.”

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686. Harry’s five day forecast

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Harry, the weatherman, agreed.

Today was going to be partly sunny. Tomorrow was going to be partly cloudy. The day after that was going to be changeable. The next day was a hotchpotch of everything. Sun showers were predicted for the fifth day. Come the weekend, get out that suntan lotion and light the fire.

336. Weather or not

Moira was driving south to visit and stay a few days with her daughter. It was a long drive, so she left early. At 6am the car radio began the news and weather.

“I’d better check the weather,” thought Moira. They always seemed to present the weather by starting north and heading south.

“And now for the weather up north,” began the weatherman.

“It’s the weather in the south I want,” thought Moira. “It seems to be fine outside, although it’s still a bit dark to be certain.”

“And now for the weather in the middle,” said the weatherman.

“I wish they’d start by giving the weather in the south and moving north,” thought Moira. “If they started in the south I wouldn’t always miss it, by getting distracted. But it seems to be quite nice thus far. Mind you, I don’t really mind driving in the rain. As long as I’m careful and keep a good distance from the car in front.”

“And that’s the weather for today,” said the weatherman.

215. A stickler

Maureen had a thing about words. She was a stickler for spelling, and a perfectionist when it came to grammar. After all, she’d taught English to secondary school students for thirty-seven years.

She didn’t mind an American spelling, provided it was from America and found in Websters Dictionary. She didn’t mind a British spelling, provided it was from an appropriate sector of the British Commonwealth and found in the Oxford Dictionary. Of course, the modern versions of these dictionaries contained “ain’t”, and included language that one might well hear on a building site, and occasionally, and inappropriately, in the secondary school yard. Maureen’s editions of the dictionaries were a little older than that.

She found it disconcerting, one winter’s evening, to be watching the weather on television, and the weather lady gave the windage. Windage? Windage! It was a word, of course, but not to be used like that! She meant “wind”.

“I give up,” said Maureen. “This ain’t the wayage the weatherage should be presented. Our beautiful language is plummeting into a dark and bottomless abyssage. No one has any careage anymoreage.”

With that, she turned the television off, sat down, and penned her resignation from teaching. Thirty-seven years fighting a losing battle was long enough.