Those wonderful lines in the sky

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Tonight I sat on my patio, overlooking the River Shannon, and I watched for two hours as the sun set. As often happens, I saw the needle point of a contrail (vapour trail), clearly coming up from the hills across from me. It was of course coming from across the Atlantic – much of the Atlantic air traffic passes over us, but about seven miles high, leaving only those contrails. But how magnificent they are. This one threaded its way across the sky, heading southeast, fine and elegant. But, as I said in my book about other such contrails, it soon lost its way, lost its pristine clarity and innocence, flirted with the winds, grew coarse and bloated, and quite lost its way. Just like ourselves. If there had been contrails in the time of Christ, thumbs_all-pix-for-blog-395-of-1303would we perhaps have had a parable about contrails instead of one about seed among thorns? ~ Davidthumbs_all-pix-for-blog-1237-of-1303

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