Stories, Excerpts, Backroads
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,
I’m too old for this.
40 was old back then.
I love the word flippant and
guzzle, tankard, daredevil,
also a bunch others.
I can’t pronounce.
Still, look where we are, dreading the news,
forgetting what got us here,
the dust, all the wind,
I’m okay with it!
It seems indiscriminate.
The best we can hope for,
A mouse has decided to make it’s home in our studio. It has chewed the weather stripping at the bottom of the door. I blamed Willow at first, thinking she was scratching at the door, though I’ve never seen her do so. The mouse has even got into my big teacher’s desk and chewed into my bag of veggie and flower seeds.
Willow knows it’s inside and it drives her nuts. She sniffs and snorts and follows it from one hiding place to another. Once under the old Heidelberg press it is safe. Willow falls asleep with her nose beside the pallet.
If Willow doesn’t pick up her game I may have to buy a trap.
The garden has gone from wet to bone dry over the weekend. It doesn’t take many sunny days to parch the earth.
The garden is producing more than we can eat. Tonight it is mixed salad including kale, spinach and chard, beets, carrots and spuds.
Another week and the zucchini and squash will be ready.
The beans are also on the rise, this year will be quite a crop as it seems every seed germinated.
A lazy Sunday after a busy week.
The morning sun shines a spotlight on a Tiger Lily.
There is an old joke I love. It goes like this: Did you here that Johnson and Johnson have developed a new product for the millennium? It’s call KY Y2K. It lets you put in 4 digits instead of two!
The joke is a play on the hysteria that accompanied the calendar switching from 1999 to the year 2000. The thought was that many computers would think it was the year 1900, as computers only recognized two digits in the calendar instead of four, thus confusing banking, shipping, airfare and anything and everything ran by a computer.
It was reported on every news station and everyone held their breath at midnight 1999. Lisa and I even took out some cash from the bank to see us through until they sorted the mess out. Some people did a lot more. Of course it all turned out to be hype. The calendar switched and everything ran like the day before.
A lot of tech companies made a ton of money from the impending doom.
Fake news it would be called today.
Todays political and environmental landscape is much different. We are on the edge of environmental ruin as our world heats up due to CO2 from the burning of fossil fuels.
Canada contributes between 1 and 2% to the worlds CO2 emissions. Even if we were to shut down every form of industry that produces green house gasses we would still be doomed.
Still, it’s worth a try. I travel in a vehicle but most of my trips are longer than 2 miles but shorter than 10 miles. I don’t have boats, ATV’s, a second house nor do I plan on getting any, I grow most of our food but eat a steak every chance I get (I’m working on it). I realize I am lucky to do so.
In this area the most fervent environmentalists are wealthy people. They spend their winters in warmer climes, or on trips where they ‘help out’, they wear layers of Northface, shop at Mountain Equipment Coop, have several pairs of boots for every occasion, carry mirrorless cameras, get on jets every holiday, stay in second and third homes, and preach. . . they preach science. How we are doomed.
Science has become the new religion. I used to feel guilty about masterbating, now I feel guilty about eating steak and contributing to more cow farts in the atmosphere. Then again, it could be that masterbating doesn’t hold the same appeal as it once did.
Still that doesn’t mean something isn’t going on. CO2 occurs naturally and in abundance to what humans have produced. It’s a balance we may well have fucked up.
The future could be as bleak as is reported, while we live in the most generous of times. Where more people than ever on earth have access to healthcare and food and water. Where we should be counting our lucky stars. Mostly because of science
Perhaps only science can save us. Is there a way to gobble up this, seemingly minute, compared to natures production, but devastating CO2, that has perched us on this precipice?
I love my children and grandchildren. I try to show them the happiness in having less, or having more in less.
The stories of kindness and living simply are not meant to make them weak but strong in the future.
The bird calls, the first spuds from a well tended garden, the cones on top of trees framed in a blue sky. The river high and low and the difference between seasons.
Perhaps I am a fool, shy of two digits while the world’s clock ticks towards midnight.
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.
It was a quick trip into the bush this evening. It has been busy with work. Usually in bed before the sun is down.
We were looking for the next wild orchids. After the Calypso comes the larger Yellow species. These are said to be quite rare. They often grow by springs that arise from the mountain side.
The first cub is waisting no time getting hid.
Although still warm from the day, we saw a female Black Bear and two cubs on the road going up. I worry for these bears. Even though there is no hunting season for them right now, they are often poached for certain parts (feet, gallbladder, head) to be sent overseas.
The orchids were there waiting when we arrived. Very fine evening.
Willow sporting her new haircut.
We got a new dog. . . well not exactly. It took two sessions but we gave Willow her annual stripping.
Wire Haired Dachshunds grow a thick wiry coat over winter and it has to be ‘stripped’ in spring. This is done by grabbing a few hairs at time and pulling them out.
Willow with her winter coat digging for spring mice.
It is not that bad because the hair has loosened and needs to come out. I’m not sure if the hair is even really attached to her anymore, but held in place by all the other long wire hair.
Once it is out they have a smooth soft coat for summer.
Cooper and Willow wrestling over a stick.
Although it doesn’t hurt her, Willow doesn’t like it. She endures Lisa and I pulling, while she thinks of hunting, letting us know if we grab a couple more hairs than acceptable.
At the end of it we have half a dog as what we had at the beginning.
Willow trying to talk me into a late night fetch.