I’ve heard it
Seen it this way before.
Still disconcerting.
It looks hopeless,
this time with science
on their side.
It was in the sixties. . . or seventies
eighties even
they said it the same
but different.
Category: Dog days
late august
An unnamed, unclimbed mountain – so happy the gore tex climbing hordes
are off shitting on the well known peaks miles from here.
Saw Winter Maker this morning, a waning sliver came up in dawn, later I faced the rising sun taking the cold from my bones; once again saved without having to confess or spend a minute in church. Sometimes you get lucky.
Soon it will be ice.
There are signs everywhere summer is on it’s way out. We have had frost at this time of year. It’s getting close, the other day was 3°c. The garden is flattening, except for the carrots, smoke and cabbage, who are revelling in the cool of night.
Willow casually smokes a cigar in her own private natural spa.
Was along the creek a range over. Willow swam the blue moving water fetching sticks. She learned quickly to use the current to her advantage. I threw sticks into an eddy, they would go around and around then finally spill out into the froth of the main channel. Willow did the same, fighting to get caught in the eddy, then using her thrusters to speed out of the eddy on just the right orbit, capturing the stick every time! It required perfect mathematical calculations on her part – the speed of the eddy, her weight, the speed of the main current, her mass and it’s effect on water resistance; all of that and the same calculations for the stick, just to be safe! Or. . . she just naturally knew what to do. Both are science, both are nature.
Determination.
The sun went down and turned to twilight, as dramatic as it’s entrance.
Sometimes you really do get lucky.
addiction
It’s time to get serious, I’ve been told and I’ve been told more than once. The rivers sure look promising, same as the muddy water in those gypsum sink holes, I used to dive when I was younger. Every single time I thought I was going to die. Sometimes instead of coming up I’d keep swimming down. I did it because it was hard. Everything trying to pull me up. The air in my lungs, lifting, my eyes open, facing the current. Stinging. Looking for a breath. That’s the way it is on any given day.
mouse
My dog has her tip toe shoes on. She is after a mouse. Walking slowly from edge to edge. While, more than likely the mouse is running scared. The mouse’s best chance is Willow falls asleep.
Surprise, surprise we have more than one mouse.
the turn
Late light.
The garden is looking weary. Plenty of yellow leaves. The vegetables are churning out, knowing fall is upon us. The carrots have the best growing in front of them, same as the cabbage
Old peas.
The nights are longer. It’s already cool in the mornings. Orion is rising when I awake. It clears the mountains before light.
Why the long face?
The peas have to be pulled. The ones I find I give to Willow. She appreciates them more if I open them. But what am I. . . her servant.
The stars and moon tell the story better.
long weekend
Dave rolls a dart, Chewy licks the papers. It’s a joint effort.
Damn, this has been a busy long weekend. Calgarians tailgating everywhere they go. All in a hurry to have fun. Making the most of it, they must figure.
While driving through town I saw two incidents of road rage. All four involved were from the city. One had a Flames front licence plate, stealing another’s parking spot. Cue the horn, hand gestures and expletives. I am ashamed to say this warms my heart. I wish the Flames were as aggressive.
It never ceases to amaze me how people act on holiday while trying to relax.
It also never ceases to amaze me the wealth that flows into the valley. If Alberta is hurting, we don’t see it here.
Also, if there is a climate crisis we don’t see it here. It’s big cars, trucks, boats, RV’s, ATV’s and huge second homes built as close to the water as they can get away with. All spewing CO2, polluting the land and water. Perhaps when they start worrying I should too.
Some of these folks can be counted as our most vocal environmentalists. Always reminding us they love it so much this is where they decide to vacation, drive, boat, ATV, fly, build, spend their money and die. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. I have a $16 an hour job because of it.
Tonight the sky is blue. The breeze is warm. My arms are tanned and I have a full garden of food.
Very fine day.
distinction
It smells like dynamite in here, maybe not dynamite, but caps, the ones cracked open between rocks.
Not sure about the righteous or bad. They both have the power to corrupt. Plus they knock on the door mighty early. . . or late. Either or.
Am I left to figure it out, global warming, class action, fake news, bitcoin, psychology, gravity, astrology, all the rest. . . it’s like the g-spot; if 95% of the experts are arguing and can’t decide. . . what hope is there for us mere mortals.
****
Flippant, my mother said.
Now we had a relationship.
The day I was born, she probably, thought,
fuck!
I’m too old for this.
40 was old back then.
***
I love the word flippant and
guzzle, tankard, daredevil,
also a bunch others.
***
Knowing words
I can’t pronounce.
***
Still, look where we are, dreading the news,
forgetting what got us here,
the dust, all the wind,
floods and
thunderstorms.
***
I’m okay with it!
***
It seems indiscriminate.
The best we can hope for,
loyalty
The thing about letting the dog run the mouse out the door is she might keep going to the next barn. The dog I mean, the mouse will always come back.
after the rain
A few thinnings.
So far it’s been a wet summer. That’s ok with me if it means no smokey skies.
Spuds.
The garden is coming around like it always does in summer regardless of smoke, sun rain or mist. Even my negligence can’t keep it down.
Lavender.
Black Crimson Tomato.
Willow eats the last radish.
Rain
The look Willow gives trying to convince me to give her a bite of my breakfast.
It works every time.
Thundershowers on and off this past week. It is something we haven’t seen for the last few years. Thunder, yes, showers, no. Lightening without showers is hazardly in a bone dry forest, as the last two years have proven. With luck we won’t have smoke filled skies this year.
The garden is benefitting from the moisture and lightning that releases nitrogen. I have long noticed a growth spurt after thundershowers.
The garden is beginning to produce, we have wonderful salads each night, consisting of a mix of about ten different greens.
A small Song Sparrow weathers the storm.
Lisa, Willow and I were back in the bush today cutting firewood. We got most of it done between storms.
Very fine day.
