the news

_LME3247Willow eyeing up the carrots.

Recently, I had a conversation with someone I have a great deal of respect for. She is a business person who is smart and knows how to deal with personnel and clients. There is a lot of juggling that goes on in such situations. She handles it mostly with a smile on her face. Not much rattles her. 

I call it ‘high functioning’, being able to deal with more than one thing at a time, sometimes more than ten things at at time. Some people are really good at it, she is one. 

The other day her and I and a few others entered into a conversation. We talked about some of the recent events in Canadian news. Everyone in the conversation had an opinion except her. She said, she doesn’t listen, read or watch the news.

Now, back when I was growing up this was a form of ignorance which bothered me. In my uneducated world, newspapers and televised news was how a person educated themselves.

She explained, she didn’t want Trump and everything else in the news filling up her brain while there was more important stuff to think about and accomplish.

***

_LME3271.jpgIn the same boat.

My good friend Dave and I talk often. We have always laughed about how many children get rides to school, even when they live within walking distance. He says, it’s because we hear about a kid being snatched in some faraway place on the news and we take notice, it’s real, it’s like it happened under our nose, even though it is the safest time in Canada to be a child. We turn vigilant. It takes up space in our mind. It’s why our children have lost the pleasure of walking to school.

***

If I listened to it all, I’d pack it in. Call it. Say uncle. And sometimes I feel like it.

***

The sky is still blue. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it’s dry. The forest catches on fire and banks get chewed away by runoff. 

***

_LME3276.jpgTurning.

The moral of this story, if there is one, let your kids walk to school. Teach them to say, ‘fuck you’, when warranted. They are going to have plenty to be pissed about come future.

distinction

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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,

ro dun dent

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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.

tick toc

RCE_2868The 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.

***

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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?

***

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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.

after the rain

_LME3007A few thinnings.

So far it’s been a wet summer. That’s ok with me if it means no smokey skies.

_LME3020Spuds.

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.

_LME3026Lavender.

_LME3028.jpgBlack Crimson Tomato.

_LME3056.jpgWillow eats the last radish.

Scarlett

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It’s going to warm up. A light rain falls. My grandchildren have come to visit and they remind me time isn’t forever. I kick myself for not cherishing every moment. Lost in anger and differences, most in my youth, fuel, to make it this far. It’s not about becoming wiser or learning the err of my ways. It could never have been different. But now to see my granddaughter walk among the garden, my guard dropped, to be finally thankful for a long awaited gift.

firewood

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We have plenty of firewood. We get it early. We call it next years wood.

It takes sweat and stamina to cut, chop and finally relax in front of a fine fire.

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The dogs were a sniff in the bush. Catching scents, running hither and yon. I envied them. I also envy the way they can sleep anywhere. Dreaming of slow rabbits and bird calls,

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Lisa did the cutting, not every woman can handle a chainsaw with a 24” bar, while I hauled the blocks. Maynard caught a rabbit and displayed it proudly. Willow enjoyed the bush as usual. Very fine day.