The sky was glorious today at sunset — and we even saw a very distinctive green flash, but this won my heart.    An enormous cycad with all this amazing texture and color at the center.

Will the center truly hold?  I know that’s from a Yeats poem, “The Second Coming,” written after WWI.  I need to learn more about it.  A quick reading leads me to think he’s saying we need a miracle after the horror of the war.  Still so.  And ‘miracle’ is not common currency, to mix metaphors in a pointed way.  Our problems are solvable, yet seemingly intractable.  There is enough food.  There is enough water.  There is enough expertise.   Is there enough good will?

And  — The center?   Whose center?  And who decides?  Someone always has to decide.  Therein lies the problem, she says, emitting a large, time-honored sigh.