Day and night #phenology

Cloud cover did us in this morning. We could see a brightness in the sky behind the clouds, but that was the extend of our enjoyment of this morning's Super Blue Blood Moon. The Better Half got a glimpse of the (partial) eclipse as she drove to work, and called us to say "Go look!" We did. The clouds were still there. Nevertheless, not all has been lost. A day or so ago we managed to get some shots late in the afternoon. This moon is blue, not blood, and we'll leave the question of Super up to you! Did you know that Elvis Presley (for the older readers of this post) had a great recording of both Blue Moon and Blue Moon of Kentucky. Most millennials will say Who?

99% of January's Super Blue Moon

Photo by J. Harrington

99% of January's Super Blue Moon

Photo by J. Harrington

We've almost made it through January. That deserves, if not a full-fledged celebration, at least a sigh of relief. Then, after Ground Hog Day, and the Super Bowl, things can return to what passes for normal around here. We'll have almost an additional hour's worth of daylight by the end of February, to go with the hour we've gained since Solstice. John Denver was right about sunshine.

Full Moon

BY ALICE OSWALD

Good God! 

What did I dream last night? 

I dreamt I was the moon. 

I woke and found myself still asleep. 

It was like this: my face misted up from inside 

And I came and went at will through a little peephole. 

I had no voice, no mouth, nothing to express my trouble, 

except my shadows leaning downhill, not quite parallel. 

Something needs to be said to describe my moonlight. 

Almost frost but softer, almost ash but wholer. 

Made almost of water, which has strictly speaking 

No feature, but a kind of counter-light, call it insight. 

Like in woods, when they jostle their hooded shapes, 

Their heads congealed together, having murdered each other, 

There are moon-beings, sound-beings, such as deer and half-deer 

Passing through there, whose eyes can pierce through things. 

I was like that: visible invisible visible invisible. 

There's no material as variable as moonlight. 

I was climbing, clinging to the underneath of my bones, thinking: 

Good God! Who have I been last night?

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Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace...#phenology

It's cold. It's cloudy. It's cold and cloudy like a broken record that keeps repeating. On the other hand---there's now something like two dozen or so goldfinches that erupt from the ground under the thistle feeder each time we let one of the dogs out. Disconcerting, but encouraging.

finches in February

Photo by J. Harrington

We'll diligently watch for color changes in the Winter-drab plumages of the finches. None noticeable yet, but we hope to see come brighter yellow feathers on their heads come February. There've been noticing more and more crows flying around the past few days and heard some croaking at each other this morning. It'll likely be March before they start nesting. But, although we haven't yet heard any, the black-capped chickadee's two-note Spring song (Fee-Bee), should become audible over next month or so. February also brings us Black History Month as well as Ground Hog Day, Minnesota Precinct Caucuses, and Valentine's Day.

the crows have returned

Photo by J. Harrington

All in all, we find that February is mostly good as a transition from the end of Winter toward the beginning of Spring. Fortunately, it's the shortest month of the year. Good for day-dreaming about warmer weather, bud burst, nestlings and open water, among other seasonal fantasies. We can't quite figure out how our tendency, at this time of year, to look toward future events fits with a zen emphasis to "be here now." We're focused, as much as we can be now, on what we want to do at some other time. We don't think that's the way it's supposed to work, but at times, like late January and almost all of February, that's the best we can do.

The Rosetta Stone for Birdcalls

Peter O’Leary

is the Rosetta Stone for Human Suffering. Caw = territorial
outrage. Musical flutings upwards = the days of summer are always
declining. Peep = hunger. Barrage of chips = desperate hunger.
Who? = the nest has been abandoned. Varied pipings =
I surrender my eggs to a predator. Grates & rusty
noises = the distance between us can only be managed by violence.
Trill = inadequacy of desire. Low whistles = difficulties with
lice, with bacteria, with fungus, etc.
No such stone ever hewn would translate lightning or torrent
a million years elicits. No such stone would bear the
incisions of the master’s awl.
Such a stone would serve instead as instruction manual for building
pyramids & museums.
When the accipiter in its suicidal plummet snatches the finch,
what instrument measures the strum of the vibrating airs? Who sees
the God who plucks this lute?

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Is copper-nickel mining in Minnesota responsible? Not so's we can tell!

Copper-nickel mine proposers would have us believe that Minnesota's requirements are world class. We've been posting about sustainable mining, or responsible mining, or green mining, for several years. We have, based on what we've read, major doubts about the "world classness" of what's being proposed to be issued permits to mine in Minnesota. Today, we're going to list key points from a definition of responsible mining, as found in the late Robert Goodland's Responsible Mining:The Key to Profitable Resource Development-Defining “Best Practice Responsible Mining."

would it be responsible to mine near here?

Photo by J. Harrington

Goodland asserts that there are eight principles to responsible mining:

Principle 1: Social and Environmental Assessment
An objective, skilled assessment team is the starting point to determine the path toward responsible mining.

Principle 2: Transparency vs. Secrecy
No social and environmental assessment should be kept secret from potentially impacted stakeholders.

Principle 3: Acceptance by Stakeholders
If stakeholders don’t want the proposed project, it should not go ahead.

Principle 4: Food Production Trumps Questionable Mining
Mining must not decrease resources in areas of scarce land or water.

Principle 5: Compliance with International Standards
Responsible mining corporations will uphold all international social and environmental agreements.

Principle 6: Prequalification or certification of potential mining permit seekers
The best practice is for all mines to engage in a rigorous independent certification regime, as suggested in the IUCN World Conservation Congress’ Resolution 4.088.

Principle 7: Insurance and Performance Bonds
Insurance and performance bonds, mechanisms to foster compliance with contractual obligations and to improve the quality of results, should become standard in mining.

Principle 8: Royalties, Taxes and Fees
Responsible mining accurately assesses all relevant costs and benefits to ascertain whether the proposed mine will earn a significant net benefit.

We believe that, at best, Minnesota would rate about a gentle person's "C" on the preceding principles. Woodland then proceeds to consider that "Five types of socially or environmentally sensitive areas need special consideration in mining regulations." We are unaware of provisions in Minnesota's mining regulations that create what Goodland refers to as "No-Go Zones for Mining:" (something Minnesota probably needs)

• Indigenous Peoples Reserves:


• Conflict Zones:


• Fragile Watersheds:


• Biodiversity, Habitats, and Wildlands:


• Cultural Property:

is it responsible to expand a tailings dam upstream of this state park?

Photo by J. Harrington

We further believe Minnesota, and those who would undertake copper-nickel mining here, would be well served if each mining proposal were reviewed by third party auditors to determine just how responsible the proposed mining project may be. From what we've read so far, we doubt any would pass muster. Read Goodland's paper and the assertions by those proposing to undertake copper-nickel mining. Form your own opinion. We'd sleep much better at night if we were proven in error in our assessments of the status of "responsible mining" in Minnesota.

                     We Are Not Responsible

By Harryette Mullen

We are not responsible for your lost or stolen relatives. 

We cannot guarantee your safety if you disobey our instructions. 

We do not endorse the causes or claims of people begging for handouts. 

We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. 

Your ticket does not guarantee that we will honor your reservations. 

In order to facilitate our procedures, please limit your carrying on. 

Before taking off, please extinguish all smoldering resentments. 

If you cannot understand English, you will be moved out of the way. 

In the event of a loss, you’d better look out for yourself. 

Your insurance was cancelled because we can no longer handle

your frightful claims. Our handlers lost your luggage and we

are unable to find the key to your legal case. 

You were detained for interrogation because you fit the profile. 

You are not presumed to be innocent if the police 

have reason to suspect you are carrying a concealed wallet. 

It’s not our fault you were born wearing a gang color. 

It is not our obligation to inform you of your rights. 

Step aside, please, while our officer inspects your bad attitude. 

You have no rights we are bound to respect. 

Please remain calm, or we can’t be held responsible 

for what happens to you. 

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Will the real reality please...?

Today we had what we think was a purple finch at the niger thistle feeder. It was surrounded by goldfinches. We only noticed one, and it was at a bad angle to be certain of the coloring, but we noticed several areas of more solid reddish color than we expect to see on a house finch. On the other hand, it looked smaller than the purple finches we've seen in the past. We'll never be sure which we saw this morning, but we're pleased someone different arrived and we'll keep looking to get a better view.

purple finches?, house finches?, ???

Photo by J. Harrington

In addition to having a difficult time identifying the reddish/purplish/pinkish/brownish bird at the feeder, we've exhibited another all too human characteristic today. We didn't (still don't) want to believe our eyes when what we see doesn't meet our expectations. Here's our story: We were once again this morning weighing fly lines. One line that was on a spare spool for the reel on our workhorse fly rod weighed 16 grams. That would put it solidly in the 9 weight category. We don't believe we would ever overload a 6 weight rod with a 9 weight line, so, of course, we doubted the accuracy of the scale or the length of fly line we measured, or both. We did it all over again. The line weighs 16 grams. If the scale is off, so are all the other fly lines we've been weighing. We did notice we seem to have an extra 7 weigh line sitting around. That would fit with our tendency to overload a rod by one line weight. But we have no idea how a 9 weight line ended up on a 6 weight rod. No doubt, when this is all said and done, we'll still end up testing several rods with different lines to see which combinations seem to cast best. That's what it's all about, after all.

The Better Half puts up with all of this nonsense because, in part, we've been doing something similar with our sourdough bread recipes. We recently ended up with a combination, modified from the original King Arthur flour recipe, that we were told to "leave alone and don't break it." High praise from those quarters. The variations are two-fold. First, we combine the water, yeast and sugar and let that combination sit for 20 or 30 minutes, until the yeast looks all happy and foamy/bubbly. Then we add the sourdough starter and the flour. We used to add everything at once without letting the yeast start to develop. The second variation is we used two cups of bread flour and three cups of all purpose flour instead of five cups of all purpose flour. The rest of the recipe is basically the same as found on the King Arthur site (except the recipe they sent with our sourdough starter also lists a tablespoon of sugar).

Between the differences in birds, and the recipes and the strange fly-line weight, we're starting to get a little nervous. Is it time to study up on gaslighting, or simply accept how rarely the world is as we expect it to be? Next thing we know, we'll have a hard time telling crows from ravens.

Why I Am Not a Buddhist

Charles Bernstein, 1950

Reality cons me as it spur(n)s me.
This is the road to eternal
Consanguinity, eloping with
Hope and leaving me to pick
Up the proverbial bag.
But that’s the argument for.

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Pushing the season #phenology

This morning, yesterday's snow melt had refrozen and clad the driveway in ice armor. That's often another sign of Spring around here. Next week is the festival of Imbolc, marking the beginnings of Spring. It also brings Ground Hog Day. Regardless of Punxsutawney Phil and his shadow, we're moving into a Spring mode. We may be out of phase with the actual weather outside our windows for awhile, but we'll be happier for it.

DON'T FORGET, FOUR (4) DAYS AFTER GROUNDHOG DAY IT WILL BE TIME FOR MINNESOTA PRECINCT CAUCUS.

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men should do nothing.”

Now, back to Imbolc and the beginning's of Spring. We'll collect some red osier dogwood this week and bring them into the house so we can force some green growth and, maybe, some flowering. A month or so from now, we'll start watching for pussy willow catkins to develop. The best pussy willow info and photos we've found so far is on the Friends of the Wildflower Garden web site.

forcing red osier dogwood leaves

Photo by J. Harrington

Meanwhile, in the  house, we'll continue with our efforts to get our fly-fishing gear organized. We're almost through figuring out which weight fly lines we have on which reels and what rods they might best fit. It'll be interesting to see if we can finish this process without using it as an excuse to purchase a book we don't have on getting organized or identifying flies. When, not IF, but WHEN, we're successful with fly-fishing gear, we'll tackle (like that pun?) reorganizing our book shelves and stacks. It's starting to occur to us that these activities may well be a better use of our time than skimming through social media and further reducing our attention span.

PUSSY WILLOW

by Mary Thomson

My mother would send me to cut some

from a corner of a field
to put with daffodils from the garden,
palm, not willow she called them.
We paid for ten wands
bound in a flute of plastic paper,

each pussy foot with a nap like velvet,
grey satin to a fingertip.
As spring ran in to May
pollen formed, the flowers fell.
I swept them into my palm with ageing hands.
All the flowers we bring home are reminders. 

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Faux March

Blue skies, sunshine, temperatures in the mid to upper forties, gusty wind from the South: March? No, January in Minnesota. Who'd a thunk?

Root River Rod Co., Lanesboro

Photo by J. Harrington

In celebration of today's weather, we've decided to let the world's problems tend themselves today. We're organizing fly rods, reels and lines in anticipation of real Spring. Not only have we been sorting out what's where, but we've been making progress figuring out stuff we've lost track of over the past five or six years. It turned out to be not as challenging as we feared. Isn't much of life like that?

N. Branch, Sunrise River, pretty, but not a trout stream

Photo by J. Harrington

We're even beginning to remember when sorting tackle used to be fun and not simply a chore. By the time Minnesota's new fishing season (open water, not ice) starts, we plan to be fully fly-fishing organized again, or at least as close as we ever come. Even if we rarely catch anything, exploring for places to fish usually takes us somewhere full of beauty. Hard to go wrong with those odds. If you'll pardon us now. we still have a few reels to sort and fly-lines lines to weigh.

The Bean House

John Koethe, 1945

. . . humming in the summer haze.

Diane christened it the Bean House,
Since everything in it came straight from an 
L.L. Bean Home catalog. It looks out upon two
Meadows separated by a stand of trees, and at night,
When the heat begins to dissipate and the stars
Become visible in the uncontaminated sky,
I like to sit here on the deck, listening to the music
Wafting from the inside through the sliding patio doors,
Listening to the music in my head. It’s what I do:
The days go by, the days remain the same, dwindling
Down to a precious few as I try to write my name
In the book of passing days, the book of water. Some
Days I go fishing, usually unsuccessfully, casting
Gently across a small stream that flows along beneath
Some overhanging trees or through a field of cows.
Call it late bucolic: this morning I awoke to rain
And a late spring chill, with water dripping from the
Eaves, the apple trees, the pergola down the hill.
No fishing today, as I await the summation
Of my interrupted eclogue, waiting on the rain
And rhythms of the world for the music to resume,
As indeed it does: all things end eventually,
No matter how permanent they seem, no matter how
Desperately you want them to remain. And now the sun
Comes out once more, and life becomes sweet again,
Sweet and familiar, on the verge of summer.

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Sustainable mining? Minnesota? It's a start!

We had to read it twice, these paragraphs from yesterday's story in the Duluth News Tribune by John Myers:

"ERP stands for Earth Restoration Project and is a product of Clarke's transformation into an evangelist for sustainability. That transformation was hastened in Africa, where Clarke established nonprofit health-care facilities and where he saw the results of worsening droughts and famine.

"Now he's started ERP Iron Ore LLC and Chippewa Capital Partners for his two Minnesota mining operations — the former Magentation operations based in Grand Rapids and the former Essar Steel Minnesota project in Nashwauk."

After speculating for the past couple of years about the prospect of "sustainable mining" coming to Minnesota, that eagle may be starting to land. At least there's an active, major player who is familiar with the terms "And he says he wants to bring his carbon offset ideas to the iron-mining and steel-producing industries, which also are large emitters of greenhouse gases."

Miners Lake Pit, IRRRB Reclamation

Photo by J. Harrington

Lest any of you think we've foregone our usual degree of skepticism, we continue to operate on the premise articulated by President Reagan's dictum "Trust, but verify." (Although this is also probably as close as we'll ever get to sounding like a Republican.) But we're encouraged to see that Clarke is talking integration, collaboration, partnerships and has a record of successfully using those approaches on other, similar projects. Details are in Meyers' story from the day before yesterday.

From what we've read so far, we wish Clarke the best. He, his companies, and his approach, may well represent the core of a sustainable future for mining in and around the Iron Range.

Boundary Waters

by Sheila Packa

Off the road
where lichen and thick moss
take in minerals
beneath the balsam
over the border
past the landing
in the stone face of granite
above the water's mirror
small islands where
root dives into stone
amid broken limbs
of white pine
behind the reflection of day
into dark endings
reached for my own reaching
hand in the cold water
of October—
a tail flick of a fin
among the sunken
shoulders
in a vein of ore.
To take from another body
is a question
answered by loon
or by the morning rime
with weasel
searching the char of a cold fire.
After the urgent
animal of the body—
a heavy frost
and the moose that trod
over our path
running, hunted.

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Angels? Ghosts? Or ...?

We had to drive into The Cities this morning. We followed "blue highways" instead of interstates. The scenic qualities of I-35 between home and The Cities are lacking. As we proceeded in traffic under pale, gray skies toward White Bear Lake, a flock of five or six trumpeter swans flew from right to left across the road ahead of us. Some day we hope to get a good (or better) photo of white swans as they blend with low-hanging clouds.

December swans, Carlos Avery Sunrise River pools

Photo by J. Harrington

Haunting ephemera! Did we truly see something? What? A flight of angels? A shroud of ghosts? We must admit that sightings such as today's are at least one, perhaps the only, benefit of our chronic Winter overcast. Our response to visions such as we think we saw this morning certainly diminishes any SAD feelings we've been suffering. Now, one of the questions is, is this flock part of a larger group and, if so, where are they wintering? Perhaps it's part of the Sucker Lake flock? So now we're aware of a Hudson, WI flock and a different one in Ramsey County. Where else are swans overwintering locally?

Winter Swans

by Owen Sheers

The clouds had given their all –
two days of rain and then a break
in which we walked,

the waterlogged earth
gulping for breath at our feet
as we skirted the lake, silent and apart,

until the swans came and stopped us
with a show of tipping in unison.
As if rolling weights down their bodies to their heads

they halved themselves in the dark water,
icebergs of white feather, paused before returning again
like boats righting in rough weather.

‘They mate for life’ you said as they left,
porcelain over the stilling water. I didn’t reply
but as we moved on through the afternoon light,

slow-stepping in the lake’s shingle and sand,
I noticed our hands, that had, somehow,
swum the distance between us

and folded, one over the other,
like a pair of wings settling after flight

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Owls enliven the lulls of January #phenology

A fresh coating of snow brightens the woodlot and sharpens the shadows. Yesterday's storm left us with the lower end of the 3 - 6 inches forecast, but that seems to have been enough to void our mail delivery, unless there actually was no mail for any of the four adults at this address?

Fresh deer tracks crossed the fields today. Where did they come from? Where are they going? Why? Have you ever followed a deer's tracks just out of curiosity?

No new visitors at the feeders to report.  If Summer has its dog days, we think these may be Winter's equivalent. We presume it's only been goldfinches who have consumed about half a tube of niger thistle seeds.Early signs of cabin fever are starting to appear, not because we've been trapped, but due almost entirely to seasonal inertia. We'll try not to judge ourselves too harshly on that front since this is a season of introspection and quietude. Not much is happening in the North Woods.

barred owl in our wood lot

Photo by J. Harrington

We suspect that, somewhere in our nearby woods, a couple of bear cubs are, or will soon be, recent arrivals. We know there's barred owl living somewhere in the neighborhood. The fact that there seem to be several pileated woodpeckers also living around us bodes well for barred owl nesting sites. It's time, or past, for our local owls to begin establishing a territory and start mating behavior. Perhaps some warmer evening soon we'll take a moment or two to stand quietly and listen for any owl calls. At least we won't have to swat mosquitos at this time of year.

                     A Barred Owl

By Richard Wilbur

The warping night air having brought the boom

Of an owl’s voice into her darkened room,

We tell the wakened child that all she heard

Was an odd question from a forest bird,

Asking of us, if rightly listened to,

“Who cooks for you?” and then “Who cooks for you?”

Words, which can make our terrors bravely clear,

Can also thus domesticate a fear,

And send a small child back to sleep at night

Not listening for the sound of stealthy flight

Or dreaming of some small thing in a claw

Borne up to some dark branch and eaten raw.

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Oh, the weather outside is...

We don't really believe we're writing these words, but we think we've been missing snow storms. After all, this is Minnesota. It is Winter. We had been suffering a "snow drought." The snowfall we've been getting has been of the inch or two variety. No more, perhaps, although we're on the northern fringe of the storm, not in the heaviest snow band area. At least the last time we checked that's where we are relative to the storm's path. So far, accumulations have been minimal but the dogs join us in enjoying being warm and dry inside.

snowfall enhances the beauty of Winter woods

Photo by J. Harrington

We walked those same dogs a little early today, before any accumulation we get amounts to much. Dogs don't much care about snow and wind if there's interesting smells to check out. Dog walkers have a very different perspective. The birds seemed to appreciate that the feeders were full. Six blue jays were visible near the front feeder at one time this morning. The most we've seen together this Winter before now was three. Add in a bright red male cardinal feeding on the white snow cover and we have an unseasonal fourth of July palette in January.

a blue jay agains the snow

Photo by J. Harrington

Some of what's falling now should melt in a day or two. Temperatures are forecast to get back above freezing on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Although we're not huge fans of snow, getting an occasional storm between melting periods seems like a better deal than the flatlined, cold, gray weather pattern we've been stuck in. Longer days, more light, bring it on, right after it stops snowing!

The Snow Storm

Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803 - 1882

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveler stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

   Come see the north wind’s masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and, at the gate,
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind’s night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.

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How safe from pollution are Northern Minnesota's "community values?"

As Minnesota processes draft permits for the proposed PolyMet mine, Canada and Mexico are, no doubt, following up on their recently negotiated bilateral mining Memorandum Of Understanding (MOU). Meanwhile, the federal government in the US is "shut down," as the current administration dithers and dawdles about what to do to renegotiate the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA).

The "MOU on the sustainable development of mineral resources"... focuses on "the development of clean mining technology, more direct engagement with indigenous communities, corporate social responsibility, and issues pertaining to broader competitiveness in global markets."

are clean air and clean water "community values?"

Photo by J. Harrington

Since Canada and Mexico have already moved ahead to make development of mineral resources in their countries more sustainable, while the current administration in Washington appears to be doing everything possible to minimize environmental protection required of mining activities, it becomes easier to understand the potential attractiveness to foreign owners and investors of proposed projects such as PolyMet's NorthMet and the Twin Metals' mine. Concerns about diminished environmental protections are enhanced when NAFTA outcomes, such as a recent tribunal decision that overturned a Canadian government decision to reject a mining proposal based on the findings of an environmental assessment, are taken into account.

Does Minnesota need to revise its out-dated mining laws to keep from ending up in a position similar to Canada's on the Bilcon project? "Externalities," such as NAFTA, lead us to believe our environmental regulatory and protection system is insufficient for today's business. No amount of financial assurance will be able to restore the effects of a tailings dam failure. Some messes are better prevented than cleaned up.

                     Market

By Mark Levine

Money changed hands. It’s how we came to be

Came to be planted here in the mortar

In the miniature cash forest

Aster greenwood ficus hemlock

Taproot stipe calyx anther in the

Mortal hereafter

Hearing hands making money change.

Speak up. I can’t hear you.

There’s something wrong with your voice.

You’re speaking too fast. Slow up.

Speak into the currency.

It wants to bone you. It wants to receive

Your warmth in its coffers.

Listen up. I’ve a fee to see to

A toll-man a drawbridge. Open up.

Close up. You have a cross bite

In your crown, palate-ax.

Bite down. Bite my ball

Bearing interest.

I’m a businessman. I own a plant.

I bid for it, bought it, soiled it, drowned it

Tilled it, scolded it, heaved into it, stole from it

Wept unto it

A token in its behalf, suffered a stem

                                 To rise in it

                                 To market, to market

                                 In my dirty jumpsuit

                                 Worthlessness.

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Can Spring be far behind?

The nights grow shorter. Daylight grows longer. Underneath their cases, buds are beginning to stir. Although there may yet be some fierce battles fought (how much snow will we get tomorrow night and Monday?) Winter is inexorably weakening and will soon lose this year's war of the seasons.

the beauty of Winter fields can be bleak

Photo by J. Harrington

Meanwhile, the federal government is "shut down." Women are marching throughout the land. Do those we have elected really represent the best we can do? Are they incompetent? Evil? Simply ignorant? All of the above? Other? Or are we, for the most part, electing people to a system that sets them, and us, up for failure? Einstein tells us that "We can not solve our problems with the same level of thinking that created them." It seems that excessive emphasis on competition, rather than collaboration, secrecy rather than transparency, and colonial conquering and exploitation rather than cohabitation and partnerships are high among the levels of thinking that have created today's problems. Perhaps we couldn't foresee the consequences of our past actions. Now we are daily faced with them and try to solve them through a battle of wills instead of exploring opportunities together.

new life stirs as Winter's remnants fade

Photo by J. Harrington

We doubt very much that the human race will miraculously improve overnight or even in the next year or decade or so. However, that doesn't mean we can't begin to control and diminish our reliance on the worst of our impulses. The United States came about because an authoritarian, distant government failed to listen to those it would govern. We fought a horrendous Civil War to "preserve democracy." We are still struggling about how to effectively and fairly govern ourselves. Will it be only the poor and disadvantaged who suffer the consequences of a federal government "shut down?" Can those consequences be much worse than the dysfunction we have allowed to pass as governance? Let us not have yet another Silent Spring nor a repeat of the history of the year just past.

[UPDATE: others have similar concerns. We found this in the guardian the day after we posted the above.

The French Revolution as It Appeared to Enthusiasts at Its Commencement

By William Wordsworth

Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!

For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood

Upon our side, we who were strong in love!

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,

But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times,

In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways

Of custom, law, and statute, took at once

The attraction of a country in romance!

When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights,

When most intent on making of herself

A prime Enchantress—to assist the work

Which then was going forward in her name!

Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,

The beauty wore of promise, that which sets

(As at some moment might not be unfelt

Among the bowers of paradise itself )

The budding rose above the rose full blown.

What temper at the prospect did not wake

To happiness unthought of? The inert

Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!

They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,

The playfellows of fancy, who had made

All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and strength

Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred

Among the grandest objects of the sense,

And dealt with whatsoever they found there

As if they had within some lurking right

To wield it;—they, too, who, of gentle mood,

Had watched all gentle motions, and to these

Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers more wild,

And in the region of their peaceful selves;—

Now was it that both found, the meek and lofty

Did both find, helpers to their heart's desire,

And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish;

Were called upon to exercise their skill,

Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,

Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!

But in the very world, which is the world

Of all of us,—the place where in the end

We find our happiness, or not at all!

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Does Minnesota really want to win a race to the bottom?

This has been, and still is, a very interesting month for Minnesota's mining stakeholders, with, no doubt, more to come:

• The Department of Natural Resources placed on public notice a draft Permit to Mine for the proposed PolyMet project.


• The Pollution Control Agency has announced public meetings to be held on draft permits for PolyMet's air and water discharges and water quality certification, and scheduled hearings but the draft permits, according to the MPCA web site as this is being written, aren't yet available for public review. (What the hell kind of a process is that?)


• The Pollution Control Agency has had its proposed "new and improved" water quality standards for sulfate disapproved by the Chief Administrative Law Judge.


• The decision upholding the Winona County prohibition on fracking sands mining is being appealed by a prospective sand mining company.

water that starts clean here

Photo by J. Harrington

Minnesota's permitting and project approval processes were developed before the state was faced with the well-known risks associated with copper-nickel mining or the disruptive implications of mining fracking sand and shipping it out of state. These, and other factors, are among the reasons we continue to advocate for a more inclusive and transparent process that can address increasingly contentious issues affecting any social license to mine in Minnesota.

We have, it seems to us, major imbalances between who benefits and who does or may suffer from the success, or failure, of these projects. We may. or may not, have some natural resources that can be developed with limited risks to people and places we value. Have we identified any such places? Do we have a framework to assess tradeoffs? Not an effective one as far as we can see. Do we have a reasonable and responsible means or method to weight the impacts of a proposed project in one watershed versus another? Issues like this appear to be a noteworthy aspect of why MPCA's sulfate standard was recently disapproved.

should still be clean when it gets here

Photo by J. Harrington

Elsewhere in the world, the mining sector is engaged in more comprehensive conversations with stakeholders about social license and community benefits. Minnesota, meanwhile, in attractiveness to mining investors, ranks below a number of other areas that hold comparable natural resources but also have what may be even more rigorous environmental requirements to be met. Isn't it time for Minnesota to start such conversations instead of trying to lower our standards to attract risky projects?

Draft of a Landscape

Juliet Patterson

after Paul Celan

              The hare’s
              dust pelt

against the juniper’s sky
              now

in the eye uncovered
a question clear
in the wing
              of the day and the predator
that writes
the animal’s luck, too.
Where is tomorrow?
Will tomorrow be beautiful?
Someone will answer.
Someone will remember
that dustcolored
              tragedy, incidental, belonging
to no one, arriving before
as a flock of cranes
protracted in a long descent
winging blind
to field—the days
are beautiful.

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Doubling down on January #phenology

I suppose, if we're going to have two supermoons in January, one of them a blue moon, combined with a lunar eclipse, having two January thaws in Minnesota isn't impossible. In fact, we're currently enjoying the second above freezing period this month. Melting snow is sliding off the squirrel baffle on a bird feeder. Damp areas are encircling the small patches of snow on the front stoop. The belief that Winter may, indeed, be only a transitory experience reawakens. Statistically, we have reached the point when the average daily temperature begins to increase. Time to start dreaming again about flowing waters.

as one season flows into the next

Photo by J. Harrington

While walking the dogs today, we noticed a number of fresh deer tracks crossing  the snow cover on our newly wind blown fields. Fawns are n ow developing in the wombs of pregnant does. Owls are mating. Somewhere, beneath the surface of flowing waters, embryo trout are developing in their gravel nurseries. Winter is both a time when life ebbs for some as well as a time when, well-hidden, new life develops.

We've been reading Linda LeGarde Grover's Onigamiising Seasons of an Ojibwe Year. We find reassurance in her references to the ways the cycle of a year's seasons are reflected in, and reflect, the stages of a person's life. For the moment it's an open question whether we'll read all four seasons now, in Winter, or read each season as it occurs. Knowing us as we do, we suspect our compromise may be to do both.

                     Piute Creek

By Gary Snyder

One granite ridge

A tree, would be enough

Or even a rock, a small creek,

A bark shred in a pool.

Hill beyond hill, folded and twisted   

Tough trees crammed

In thin stone fractures

A huge moon on it all, is too much.   

The mind wanders. A million

Summers, night air still and the rocks   

Warm.   Sky over endless mountains.   

All the junk that goes with being human   

Drops away, hard rock wavers

Even the heavy present seems to fail   

This bubble of a heart.

Words and books

Like a small creek off a high ledge   

Gone in the dry air.

A clear, attentive mind

Has no meaning but that

Which sees is truly seen.

No one loves rock, yet we are here.   

Night chills. A flick

In the moonlight

Slips into Juniper shadow:

Back there unseen

Cold proud eyes

Of Cougar or Coyote

Watch me rise and go.

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The charm of goldfinches #phenology

Today we bought another 50 pound bag of sunflower seeds and more beef suet. While we were shopping, we decided to try a thistle seed feeder for the neighborhood goldfinches, who've been relatively scarce this Winter. We're also curious to see who else the thistle seeds might attract. After we got home, we refilled the suet feeders, and the bird bath, and then filled the thistle feeder with niger seeds. Of course we managed to spill some. It took a few minutes to track down we'd found where we'd left the dust pan and brush, then we swept up the spilled seed. Then we glanced out the window to see that almost every perch on the feeder had a goldfinch on it. The feeder couldn't have been hanging more than 15 or 20 minutes. How do they (birds in general, goldfinches in particular) do something like that, almost instantaneously arrive at a new food source? Maybe they were going to visit the sunflower feeder anyhow and just lucked out?

charms of goldfinches in a snowstorm

Photo by J. Harrington

Past feeder arrangements have suffered losses due to bears destroying the copper feeder or squirrels becoming too much of an annoyance at a tray feeder. Maybe, for the sake of variety, we'll have to try a tray feeder again. As for the goldfinches, they appear to have no signs yet of Spring plumage. Olive yellow(?), if there is such a color, is dominant at the thistle feeder. No chrome yellow is visible yet. That's something else to look forward to. Does anyone know what triggers plumage changes in goldfinches? Some assert it's photoperiodicity. Others focus on the advantage of duller colors in Winter. We choose both.

Did you know that the English goldfinch is even more colorful than our American version? We learned about this difference when we read The Lost Words. We've also learned that a flock of goldfinches is actually a charm.

Goldfinches

Mary Oliver

In the fields
we let them have-
in the fields
we don’t want yet-

where thistles rise
out of the marshlands of spring, and spring open-
each bud
a settlement of riches-

a coin of reddish fire-
the finches
wait for midsummer,
for the long days,

for the brass heat,
for the seeds to begin to form in the hardening thistles,
dazzling as the teeth of mice,
but black,

filling the face of every flower.
Then they drop from the sky.
A buttery gold,
they swing on the thistles, they gather

the silvery down, they carry it
in their finchy beaks
to the edges of the fields,
to the trees,
v as though their minds were on fire
with the flower of one perfect idea-
and there they build their nests
and lay their pale-blue eggs,

every year,
and every year
the hatchlings wake in the swaying branches,
in the silver baskets,

and love the world.
Is it necessary to say any more?
Have you heard them singing in the wind, above the final fields?
Have you ever been so happy in your life?  

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The pace of the season

We have made it past the Ides of January. With a modicum of luck, today will be our last single-digit high temperature until sometime next Winter, or never. There have been more woodpeckers than usual at the suet today: downy, hairy, red-bellied and pileated have all been seen at one time or another this morning. There's also been a red-breasted nuthatch, looking a little like a miniature common kingfisher, minus the bright blue back and head, taking bits of suet.

tamarack bog in Winter

Photo by J. Harrington

It's been weeks since we've seen a turkey or a deer. Some mornings it's clear that deer have wandered through the yard. Their tracks have left grooves in the snow's crust. Turkeys must be flocked up somewhere else this year. When warmer days arrive later this week, we'll wander the perimeter of the property and see if we can find tracks or droppings anywhere.

Winter is a time when much of life is hibernating, dormant, hidden under snow cover and leading life at a slower pace than prevails in the other three seasons. It is a time for reflection, contemplation and preparation for what we want to undertake in the seasons of birth and growth that lie ahead.

The Ojibwe people, in their medicine wheel, associate Winter with North, Air/Wind, Cedar, Spiritual Health and Elders. "The Northern Doorway represents rest, reflection, wisdom and sharing." Druidry offers similar perspectives on this season. Instead, many of us accelerate our activities during the holiday seasons of Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years, adding to the stress of contemporary life's rapid pace. We're just now learning how challenging it is to slow down and enjoy life. To rest and reflect is a different form of being "busy." If we never slow down to Winter's pace, how can we tell how much we're hurrying at other times of the year?

The Waking

Theodore Roethke, 1908 - 1963

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

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