late night wondering

A meteor streaks above Isabelle’s falls on Cedar Creek.

Willow and I spent the night in the bush looking for stars. We were trying for the head of Cedar Creek but the road was washed out above the first bridge. We adjusted and headed for the top of Palliser.

It’s good to have a couple days off. To wonder the creeks and mountains does a person good. These are old familiar trails. They have changed over the years, more roads and more logging. The massive clearcuts are sad to see. I am lucky to have seen it before the big companies took over logging.

The conditions were prime for star gazing. The waning crescent moon was down most of the night, rising shortly after Venus around 5 am, leaving the majority of the night dark. That, coupled with being deep in the mountains far from any trace of artificial light set the stage for a spectacular night of looking deep into The Milky Way.

Traipsing around in the dark might not sound like fun. It’s true, you have to be careful. It helps knowing where you are and to keep things simple.

We were on the edge of The Height of the Rockies. My feet got wet almost right away in the creek. My boots are shot, cracked, without tread, with my toes just about through the front. This last pair didn’t last worth a damn.

The sky didn’t disappoint. The Milky Way was brilliant. Several meteors streaked, many were leftovers from the Perseid Meteor Shower, streaking away from it’s namesake constellation, Perseus.

*A composite of several photos stitched together to show the sky from my vantage point. The camera picks up colour the eye is unable to see.*

I took a few pictures knowing it was impossible to do justice to the glory of such a place on and above Earth. To see it is to believe it. After awhile I gave up put the camera down. Willow and I sat and watched, but not the same things. I watched the sky and she watched everything else.

Before long I was asleep under a 40 year old sleeping bag. We were up early to catch Venus and the Crescent moon. With light breaking we headed further up the river, watching the sun hit the tops of the mountains.

All too soon we were due back in town. On the way back we stopped and I cut up some firewood and filled the back of the truck. It was a workout being tight grained fir and didn’t split easy.

Not much sleep the last few days. For Willow even less as she takes her watching more seriously than I. She sleeps on her blanket beside me. Now that I think of it I am a little tired myself.

Very fine day and night.

putting the man in manifestation

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A little rain to keep us sane after a stretch of high 30°’s.

Lisa and I were in the bush a few days ago. We picked 8 freezer bags of Huckleberries. It’s nice to find them plump and plentiful. Scarlett and Cooper are coming to visit and they love them.

The garden is booming, we have too much broccoli. It is being given away and frozen, but still threatens to bolt. I made broccoli and cheddar soup the other day and it was a big hit.

The peas are just about finished. The second planting of lettuce is coming along nicely. It will bolt quickly in this heat. I am considering another planting to come due in fall, perhaps some radishes and beet greens as well.

Yesterday I wrote an email to the managers where I work asking for a raise. In the email I justified the reasons I felt deserving. I didn’t send the email, I figured I would have Lisa read it over tonight before sending.

This morning I was called into my managers office. He closed the door and gave me a raise, the exact and generous amount I asked for in the email that was never sent.

I fucking near fell on the floor, for the raise but also that I had written the email the night before.

Lisa called it manifesting or co creating your world through the energy you put out. I said it sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me. More of a coincidence I figure.

Regardless, I’m thankful, very fine day.

August 1st

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Pea patch.

A good thunder storm hit in the evening. It felt good after the hot weather.

I left for work about 5:30 in the morning. Lisa always gets up to say goodbye. Because it’s been so hot she opens the front door to get a cross breeze with the open windows. This morning a bird flew in. It did a couple laps of the front room and went out the door, or so we thought.

This evening Lisa went to her sewing room, she spread the closed curtains to let air in through the open window. To her surprise a bat fell out onto her. The bird that flew in and out wasn’t a bird at all. The open door at that hour must have looked like an inviting open cave.

I looked for my fishing net and finally found it under the back seat of my truck. The bat was hidden, but finally flew. It and I worked together, he refused to hit me and I was as careful as I could. I set it free into the darkening evening sky. Lisa took a video and sent it to Scarlett and Cooper.

***

_LME6499 Poppy seeds.

It’s a busy weekend. Broken glass at every intersection from tourists bumping into each other.

***

The nitrogen from the thunderstorm will do the garden good. The small amount of rain is like spitting on a campfire. It all makes a difference though.

***

_LME6495 Some green.

The air is cooling, Lake Windermere is warm. If I was a little younger and knew a place along the shore not so busy I’d dive in.

late July

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This could be our hot spell, the grass is dying, turning yellow along with some of the trees. It doesn’t take long.

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Despite everything affecting us humans the natural world seems to be getting along fine. It has enjoyed a respite, although slight, from our usual rape and pillage, jets flying tourists pretending to be explorers to the four corners, mining and burning. The sky is bluer to have those jokers grounded. With luck they will notice what’s around their own corner and start to love it.

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The lesson is the world will absorb us if we let our hubris get the better of us.

backroads

_LME6476 Five Finger Road.

Some nights don’t feel quite right. Was hotter than a three dollar pistol today. Not a cloud. Willow and I went out looking for comets and stars. The moon was waxing, close to going down. I remember these hot summer nights, but not fondly. The best was being in Lake Windermere, diving at night, not being able to see the bottom or sky.

The smell of water in the air as the earth cooled is unmistakably summer. Willow was startled by a toad. She barked. I got her away from it before she got over her fear and ate it. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have agreed with her and damn sure it wouldn’t have agreed with the toad. Sometimes you have to run interference.

The Milky Way is turning, sticking straight up and down. The backroads are calling, with their sides of long grass and dark trees. Hoots, loons, birds calling their final chirps, coyotes yip yiping, and stars moving like anything else matters.

My granddaughter, covered in raspberry scratches and mosquito bites, wondered the pea patch and brought her bounty to me to open for her. She could get into them if she had to, but she is kind.

summer nights

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It feels good to wonder around with Lisa on a summer night. Everything going on in the sky, planets moving, the Milky Way, the Tail of Scorpius just above the mountains, comets and satellites.

The mosquitoes were ferocious. Willow riled up some deer. Elk lined the highway. Lisa and I both looked for eyes in the ditch far ahead. We can’t see the way we used to, so go slow now.

There was a time I used to dive off docks and rocks in the pitch black with faith there would be water below me. In summer nights the water is warmer than air. I can still see you wade in. Lisa made her own bikinis. There was fish down there that swirled around us.

It never really gets dark in summer.

take it easy

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Willow goes for a stick!

Lisa and I were up the creek this morning.

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Wood Lily.

The valley bottom and roads are absolutely crowded with tourists racing in every direction at once, all in a hurry to have fun and see as much as they can in the time they have away from the city. It sure keeps you on your toes while driving with folks doing the damndest things. The ambulances and STARS helicopter have been busy the last few weeks. That’s summer for you!

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Wild Orchid.

I made the mistake at stopping at a summer market. It is a touristy place and I rarely stop. The prices were beyond belief. Even the tourists were complaining at the till, $14 for a small basket of cherries, $7.50 for a few leaves of lettuce. At that rate, I have about $100,000 worth of lettuce in my garden I can’t give away! I also had people nudging and bumping into me. They obviously didn’t get the memo about the Covid pandemic and the importance of social distancing. I got the hell out of there. Lisa thought I was nuts to stop in the first place.

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Paintbrush.

Lisa and I got off the main roads and turned behind the mountain and followed the creek. We stopped and walked a familiar trail, breathing easy away from the ruck of the maddening crowd.

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Fireweed.

The flowers are out in abundance due to our wet early summer. Willow enjoyed a swim.

Once back home we decided it safer to stay put.

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high-rises

RCE_6445 Venus and the waning moon.

It depends on how you see things. What’s funny and what’s not. For instance, our whole fucking predicament, could be considered funny. There is thousands of old folks that haven’t seen the light of day because of an invisible threat.

They are busting their doors down to get out.

We’ve gotten old without cause. Comfortable. Confused by what’s true, the news slinging varied truth. It’s a narrative now. The best writers in the world, people trained to tell the truth, help the downtrodden, have been tricked to further an agenda. Write and wrong has two sides, forgotten for now.

The truth is lying in the grass, between the buildings, high up in the high-rises.

So they say.

Mid July

Not a lot of hot weather. Rain in-between sunshine. I’m okay with that. The world’s seemed to have gone strange. I hold onto what’s familiar. Not because it will save me, but because it’s the only thing I know.

The garden is teeming. We can’t grow enough to be self sufficient. Even if I started shooting all the deer around me, it would be a tough go. The new spuds ease the pain of reality, and there’s something cathartic about picking your own lettuce.

We trade with friends; pickles for rhubarb, weed for meat, firewood for jelly. . . it’s a trick we play to think we are beating the system.

If this is all we get I’ll be happy without the heat.

damn near summer

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A fine week. Busy as a one armed paper hanger. Still time to enjoy the morning dawn and evenings before the sun goes down. The garden is raging, carrots and pea pods. The broccoli and cauliflower have heads. If it heats up they will want to bolt. It feels good not to be responsible for the plants, although I planted them. We had small carrots and squash for supper tonight. We can’t keep up to the lettuce. How I wish I could save it for winter when fresh vegetables are scarce. It’s easy if you let it be.

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Palliser Pass

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