The existence of nature

OK, New England-under-the-influence-of-climate-change, I've got you figured out. Between the tornadoes this year and the fucking flood last year, I guess your new deal is one different relatively minor but crazily unexpected natural distaster every Spring. Next year: volcano erupts in West Warwick, I don't know.

Anyway, I had planned to try to write a post summarizing some ideas the Baronette and I have been discussing recently about the nature of existence (which she touched on in her admirably brief way here; unfortunately, I suffer from the disease of wordiness), but it turns out that the day after tornadoes hit fucking Springfield, MA (and like a week after there were tornadoes in the fucking Vermont mountains, I mean, what?) is the most gorgeously beautiful day in living memory, so instead of writing about the nature of existence, I'm going to go experience the existence of nature.

O ye who regularly feast upon the well [sic] of my profundity: I apologize, but you will have to wait.