Heed ye Algonquin legend, which says that “[b]eneath the clouds [lives] the Earth-Mother from whom is derived the Water of Life, who at her bosom feeds plants, animals and men.”

I am the personification of nature, the mother of all elements. I do not play the game of baseball, but I play with it. I alone decide whether a Major League Baseball game will be played on any given day, and more often than not I am inclined to let there be baseball, for it is an admirable endeavor.

I am a baseball fan, too, and long before you I gave it a time and a season to exist. If I sadden you with bursts of rain on a summer’s evening, do not be crestfallen, for your surrounding inhabitants need it. If I shiver you with blasts of cold or perspire you with blasts of heat, do not be crestfallen, for your surrounding beasts of burden and your nourishment crops need it. Do not ask why, just as you would not ask why a batter flails abjectly at a low-away breaking ball.

Take care of me in all matters as inhabitants of my planet; tend to your responsibility as vessels of genes for my future children of the outdoors. I will give you mostly baseball weather in return, for that is our pact here. Now go thee well in my sun’s rays, and mess with me not.

Interests

Wind, fire, water and balm. Holding this gigantic baseball in my own palm.