Tornadoes came to the valleys below, thundershowers flash flooded fire ravaged hills. But not here. We only had the appearance of inclimate weather, without the actual inclement weather itself. The wind would pick up, shadows would disappear, all the land turned dark, but then an hour later all would become a little brighter, the wind would die down, and the air settled to a mere cloudy day.

I had a day of taking care of tasks creative and overdue, so it was a productive day, if not a great day. I feel mellow this evening, unsure of the source, or even whether its a positive or negative kind of mellow.

This is part of what I did, and since it amuses me I’m including it here as well.

Again tonight my mind doesn’t wander over introspective fields, no issues or concerns or delights press my thoughts. I think I need some space, or I’m walking on the right path, and feel only the ease of a well formed groove. Either way I end this day feeling good, ready to move forward, finding moments of inspiration which seem to add up to something over the weeks.

And I watched a moment of the Olympics, several moments, interspersed throughout the day. One of the sports which I never watch which I watched (the reason I like the Olympics is the chance to see obscure sports) was fencing. Images of swashbuckling and musketeers went through my head, only it’s not that. Two men lunging at each other, whoever lunges the quickest wins. No parrying, little movement around, and generally very quick. The reason, I realized, was that fencers care hardly at all about defence. As long as they get the first touch, getting hit in return is meaningless.

Defense, I guess, is what made the old sword fights interesting. You wanted to win, but you had to do so without getting a sword thrust in return. The real art was the defending. Except in sport and ceremony.

Curious, that.