Appreciation

Last week I worked in San Jose. It's a nice office, face-to-face meetings are much easier than conference calls, and the hotel was nice. That said, San Jose has traffic. And the tap water tastes like chemicals. Oh, and I had to wear shoes to work. SHOES!

That aint right.

Got home late Friday night, and Saturday while I was puttering around outside pulling dead tansy stalks, it snowed a little. And it was a quiet, cloudy day. It was a perfect welcome home.

I appreciate my home, and working at home. I appreciate my family, my friends, my life, and my love. My godchildren Sarah and Nickolas are wonderful, Monique is a gem, and there are many people I respect and love very much.

inviting the darkness

Monique here:

For those of you who didn't know, or who don't happen to look up at the night sky, tonight is a full eclipse of the moon. I'm still watching it as I type this. (It's lasting a lot longer than I thought it would).

I love a full moon in a snowy month. The glow outside during the night is stunning, magical and down right cool. But in my time standing outside attempting to get photos of the moon as it becomes veiled by the Earth, I was reminded just how many other things we don't see when the moon is full. Thousands and thousands of starts in the black sky. Distant (thank you) lights and how just a few placed together can create a very noticeable glow. And how things seem to even sound different when there is less light in the sky. I'm not sure how much of that last one is in my head, but the world seems completely new and different when we step out of the lime light.

It's hard not to love the moon. It is quite beautiful (and useful when you're out at night and don't have a flashlight!), but it is also good to be reminded how much else is going on around you that you can't see when you only focused on the brightest light.

I hope you all find pleasures and treasures in your own darkness. And remember now and then to look up! ;)

If We WEREN'T Here

This is how it usually works: in the spring -- somewhere between late March and early May -- we come out to the "cabin" to open it after winter. It's always an anxious time for me... was the place hurt by winter, was it broken into, did it flood, etc.

We give the place a good once-over, clean and vacuum, survey the area, and see what's what. For years you couldn't see any lights unless they were on a relative's cabin. Since the electric co-op came through and thinned trees near the power line, we now have a direct view across the highway to a neighbor's yard light that could, if necessary, double as a runway light.

I won't get into the whole across-the-river tree situation, but certainly our view and privacy have drastically changed.

Aren't I Mr. Sunshine today? One more, and that's it. I promise.

Over the years 80% of our fixed windows have gotten moisture between the panes and eventually cracked; this winter the window at the top of the living room wall joined the club.

What I'm saying is, if we were still in Seattle, didn't know any of this had happened, and didn't find out for another two months, I'd probably have myself a fit.

On the plus side, yesterday was the anniversary of Dick Cheney shooting his friend in the face with a shotgun while "hunting" caged quail. Remember how up-front he was on it, and how dubya didn't find out for a couple days? That's just a solid public servant who knows his place.

A replacement window arrived today, Monique made shrimp scampi for dinner, our little tabletop herb garden is doing very well, and "Nickel Creek" is playing on the stereo. I'm glad -- I'm thrilled -- we're here. And I'll try not to worry too much about what might happen. Enough stuff really does happen that I shouldn't the possibilities fester.

Perspective

• Our area wasn't ravaged by tornadoes, leaving dozens dead and hundreds injured.
• I don't have a fatal disease.
• I didn't lose my job, wreck my car, or get stomped on by a cornered moose.
• They did cut down a couple dozen trees across the river from us.

There, that's not so bad.

I took a walk across the river this afternoon, and apart from the 50-foot Steam Boundary Zone (SMZ), it's pretty much a clear-cut. Accomplished in one day.

I felt numb walking around, but the size and quality of the road the bulldozer created struck me most.

Nature lovers in their cars, as well as drunken idiots on ATV's, can now easily drive to where the river rounds the corner. We'll be able to see and hear them juuuuust fine.

Once a year I have a nightmare in which the land across the river is suddenly and completely transformed into a casino or motel. This is definitely not that, but it is real, it's ugly, and a nice area of forest is denuded. Yeah, stuff will grow back, but it woulda killed 'em to leave a few trees standing?

I Prefer Beavers

There's logging happening across the river. It's state-owned land, but I doubt this is not part of a state-sponsored work program or vocational school. I wandered over yesterday and saw a vastly widened road and several dozen stacked trees. This morning they're logging directly across from us. In the last fifteen minutes seven trees were felled. It's 9AM... the math doesn't bode well.

I believe there's a law prohibiting logging with x feet of a riverbank. Aint seein' no one measurin' out there... just big, tall, healthy trees falling, one after another.

Wood products are necessary -- this cabin would be dang chilly if all the wood were removed. And since that forest was last logged in the 1970's, it definitely need cleaning. But if I trust whoever is doing this to be conscious and respectful, and they -- accidentally -- take just a few extra trees they really shouldn't, well, who's going to care? This is a timber region, by god.

Our view across the river is already changed; how will it look when they finally bring the logging truck down what was a small path, and take all they've cut? Guaranteed, there will be MUCH more traffic over because they "improved" the road.

Ignorance is Bliss

It's 9pm on SuperBowl Sunday, 2008. The Game is over, and I don't know who won. I listened to a little ESPN radio this morning, but since coming home from errands, I've played outside, taken a nap, watered the plants, done some laundry, walked the property in my snowshoes (a.k.a. playing), and watched Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell in Groundhog Day. Come to think of it, we just had Groundhog Day and I don't know if six more weeks of winter is on its way or not.

Bliss.

The only times I've been a big football fan were when the Seahawks were young: Largent, Herrera, Krieg, Doornink, et al. John Elway was so good he actually got me rooting for the Broncos toward the end of his career, Favre is simply outstanding, and that's it.

I know the Patriots were 18-0 going into today, so they probably lost. But then, Brady is an amazing quarterback, and 18-0 aint just because the league's watered down with so many teams. Don't know anything about the Giants, which means they probably won.

But I honestly couldn't care less. Today I saw whitetail deer, turkeys, a pileated woodpecker, a dozen or so ravens, two ladybugs (indoors), and more fox tracks. The sun was out a while, Monique comes home tomorrow, and in 351 days dubya retires and the world can begin recovering. Life is good.