Tuesday, October 31, 2023

’tis a ghastly, ghostly Halloween landscape

Last night and this morning we got flurried on to the tune of a couple of inches of sticky, wet, snow. Unless we get lots of melting this afternoon, it will be hard to spot ghosts this evening but at least, unlike 1991, it’s not going to snow for the better part of three days straight. The dogs were mildly traumatized as they stepped into a newly snow-covered world this morning. It wasn’t there when they went to bed. They’re now sleeping off the shock, napping in the living room.

Getting a dusting of snow on or around Halloween is par for the course [note to self: stop using golf metaphors] in our region, but a couple of inches is more than reasonable. Psychologically, we may be in for a longer than usual winter unless the temps warm up and stay there for the next month or two. Our average high for today is 50℉. The actual high won’t br much more than the normal low of 35℉. I wonder if there’ll be enough snow still covering the driveway this evening to look for ghoul and goblin tracks tomorrow. I have no intention of clearing the mix of snow and leaves from the driveway since there’s a better than fair chance Mother Nature will take away the snow and continue to dump more leaves for a while.

Happy Halloween from the Jack O'Lanterns
Happy Halloween from the Jack O'Lanterns
Photo by J. Harrington

The Better Half and I have behaved as responsible adults and foregone (until this evening) eating our special Halloween candy that’s been sitting on the dining table. It’ll be a nice desert starting today. Maybe we’ll be able to stretch it out until almost Thanksgiving. Each adult has one chocolate bar and two chocolate pumpkins. 🎃 

We’re expecting a three year old granddaughter to arrive for a late afternoon Trick or Treat visit and will be surprised if anyone else shows up during the evening, but will leave the front light on. Meanwhile, may you and yours enjoy the magic of Samhuinn. Tomorrow is the traditional Celtic New Year. May it bring US all of what we need and some of what we want.


Chansons Innocentes II


hist     whist 
little ghostthings 
tip-toe 
twinkle-toe 

little twitchy 
witches and tingling 
goblins 
hob-a-nob     hob-a-nob 

little hoppy happy 
toad in tweeds 
tweeds 
little itchy mousies 

with scuttling 
eyes     rustle and run     and 
hidehidehide 
whisk 

whisk     look out for the old woman 
with the wart on her nose 
what she’ll do to yer 
nobody knows 

for she knows the devil     ooch 
the devil     ouch 
the devil 
ach     the great 

green 
dancing 
devil 
devil 

devil 
devil 
     wheeEEE 



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Monday, October 30, 2023

on the eve of All Hallow’s Eve

We’ve reached the time of year when there are more leaves on the ground than on the trees. There are more leaves than water in the bird bath. Leaves, like Halloween spirits, daily fly through the air. The moon is, technically speaking, past full, but not so’s you’d really notice. There’s snow in the overnight forecast, with a prospect that it will have melted before Trick of Treaters start their rounds. Tomorrow’s the big night and the Better Half has a Treat bowl ready in the front hall and, as usual, has masterfully carved a Jack O’Lantern. (I reserve my fine motor skills for things like tying dry flies to tippets.)

leaves aren’t all that flies through the night air
leaves aren’t all that flies through the night air
Photo by J. Harrington

Come Wednesday, November brings Native American Heritage Month, so we’ll be touching on that theme off and on. Explore Minnesota has a web section on the state’s Native American heritage. I’m assuming the Governor will again issue a proclamation on November 1. In the interim, feel free to read up on land acknowledgements.

We’ve noted elsewhere in these postings that, as near as I can tell, we live very close to what was once a boundary or buffer region between the territories of the Dakota and Ojibwe peoples. I’m still looking for resources that may help me better understand the history of the land on which we’re living.


Samhain


(The Celtic Halloween)

In the season leaves should love,
since it gives them leave to move
through the wind, towards the ground
they were watching while they hung,
legend says there is a seam
stitching darkness like a name.

Now when dying grasses veil
earth from the sky in one last pale
wave, as autumn dies to bring
winter back, and then the spring,
we who die ourselves can peel
back another kind of veil

that hangs among us like thick smoke.
Tonight at last I feel it shake.
I feel the nights stretching away
thousands long behind the days
till they reach the darkness where
all of me is ancestor.

I move my hand and feel a touch
move with me, and when I brush
my own mind across another,
I am with my mother's mother.
Sure as footsteps in my waiting
self, I find her, and she brings

arms that carry answers for me,
intimate, a waiting bounty.
"Carry me." She leaves this trail
through a shudder of the veil,
and leaves, like amber where she stays,
a gift for her perpetual gaze.


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Sunday, October 29, 2023

“Late" autumn #phenology

By the calendar, we’re close to mid-Autumn but you wouldn’t know it by the weather. Normal temperatures for this time of year are ten to fifteen degrees higher than we're experiencing. Last night and this morning we were under a full moon known as the Falling Leaves Moon by both the Ojibwe and the Lakota peoples. Today’s leaf fall confirms their accuracy. When we noticed the setting moon this morning, it had a ring around it, which is often a sign of precipitation on the way. So far, much of the day has been partly sunny, a pleasant change, and partly cloudy, same old same old.

ice covered bird bath
ice covered bird bath
Photo by J. Harrington

It’ll probably be a month, or six or eight weeks, before we see local lakes ice in. (The bird bath warmer has been plugged in to keep it ice free.) We’ll try to keep track of open water versus ice even though ice fishing isn’t our thing (flies and poppers just bounce on the ice when we cast) and we gave up ice skating many decades ago. We anticipated a major movement of waterfowl with the storm that came through last week, but so far haven’t noticed any signs of migration. I’m not sure there’s been enough snow and ice in Canada to move birds south.

The Better Half took on seasonal wardrobe change this past week. That’s a chore I’ve not yet faced up to. Maybe after Halloween I’ll sort out the “what to wear” tricks and treats. This is a time of year when I feel a need for three or four wardrobe changes during a single day since we start cold, warm up, cool off and end cold. That reinforces my belief that these are times I need to live one day at a time, except when it comes to sourdough bread, for which I have to plan several day’s activities to create the levain, then the dough, then fermentation and, finally, baking. We are definitely back in baking season.

As you can tell, we’ve nothing terribly exciting to report on the home front, for which we’re grateful. The Twins did a quick exit from the MLB playoffs. The Vikings are playing .500 ball going into today’s game and the Wild season has just begun. Our son is much more of a sports fan than I but I try to keep up for his sake.


Leaves


                        1 

Every October it becomes important, no, necessary
to see the leaves turning, to be surrounded
by leaves turning; it's not just the symbolism,
to confront in the death of the year your death,
one blazing farewell appearance, though the irony 
isn't lost on you that nature is most seductive
when it's about to die, flaunting the dazzle of its 
incipient exit, an ending that at least so far 
the effects of human progress (pollution, acid rain)
have not yet frightened you enough to make you believe
is real; that is, you know this ending is a deception
because of course nature is always renewing itself—
        the trees don't die, they just pretend,
        go out in style, and return in style: a new style.





                        2 

Is it deliberate how far they make you go
especially if you live in the city to get far 
enough away from home to see not just trees 
but only trees? The boring highways, roadsigns, high 
speeds, 10-axle trucks passing you as if they were 
in an even greater hurry than you to look at leaves:
so you drive in terror for literal hours and it looks 
like rain, or snow, but it's probably just clouds
(too cloudy to see any color?) and you wonder, 
given the poverty of your memory, which road had the 
most color last year, but it doesn't matter since 
you're probably too late anyway, or too early—
        whichever road you take will be the wrong one
        and you've probably come all this way for nothing.






                        3 

You'll be driving along depressed when suddenly
a cloud will move and the sun will muscle through
and ignite the hills. It may not last. Probably
won't last. But for a moment the whole world
comes to. Wakes up. Proves it lives. It lives—
red, yellow, orange, brown, russet, ocher, vermilion,
gold. Flame and rust. Flame and rust, the permutations
of burning. You're on fire. Your eyes are on fire.
It won't last, you don't want it to last. You 
can't stand any more. But you don't want it to stop. 
It's what you've come for. It's what you'll
come back for. It won't stay with you, but you'll 
        remember that it felt like nothing else you've felt
        or something you've felt that also didn't last.


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Saturday, October 28, 2023

Transitory transitions

There's ice in the bird bath today. I’m wearing a winter weight sweater. This morning was bread baking time and the house enjoyed the warmth of the oven and the fresh bread aroma. The ground is covered with fallen leaves although most of the oak trees still have lots of leaves hanging on. We’re looking at half a year’s worth of cold and snow before what passes for spring in the North Country brightens our days.

neighborhood oak, fully crowned
neighborhood oak, fully crowned
Photo by J. Harrington

A week from tomorrow daylight saving’s time ends. Despite some trials and tribulations, come Thanksgiving it looks like there will be much for which we will want to give thanks, not least of which is having made it through another year.

Candidly, I don’t like winter weather but do enjoy the quieter pace as much of the world snoozes beneath a blanket of snow. Many past winters I’ve focused on getting reorganized as a transition from the year past to the one ahead. There’ll be some of that this winter, but I’m more interested in working toward simplification and overcoming some of my Yankee “but it might be good someday” perspective. The garage is still overstuffed despite selling three rarely used bellyboat--float tubes a few months ago. I may even donate or otherwise dispose of some old books and magazines, thereby making space for new additions.

As the year winds down, taking stock becomes easier if there’s less stock to take. Planning for a new year becomes easier if life is less cluttered. In my younger days, it seemed lless complicated figuring out what to let go of and what to hold. Maybe, as I’ve aged, I’ve picked up a variation of Midas’ disease. Everything I touch I want to hold onto because it may be useful some day. As John Fogerty tells us, that’s not the way life works.


November


Show's over, folks. And didn't October do
A bang-up job? Crisp breezes, full-throated cries
Of migrating geese, low-floating coral moon.

Nothing left but fool's gold in the trees.
Did I love it enough, the full-throttle foliage,
While it lasted? Was I dazzled? The bees

Have up and quit their last-ditch flights of forage
And gone to shiver in their winter clusters.
Field mice hit the barns, big squirrels gorge

On busted chestnuts. A sky like hardened plaster
Hovers. The pasty river, its next of kin,
Coughs up reed grass fat as feather dusters.

Even the swarms of kids have given in
To winter's big excuse, boxed-in allure:
TVs ricochet light behind pulled curtains.

The days throw up a closed sign around four.
The hapless customer who'd wanted something
Arrives to find lights out, a bolted door.


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Friday, October 27, 2023

Earth, first?

Today's posting will be short and sort'a sweet and sort'a not so. I’m wishing there was a more positive way to look at a couple of factors listed below, but so far I’ve not figured one out.

Earth Image Credit: NASA/NOAA/GSFC/Suomi NPP/VIIRS/Norman Kuring
Earth, Image Credit: NASA/NOAA/GSFC/Suomi NPP/VIIRS/Norman Kuring

First, please consider the graphics at this link. (The planetary boundaries concept presents a set of nine planetary boundaries within which humanity can continue to develop and thrive for generations to come.) If you understand the concept of a trends extended scenario, it’s fairly easy to see we’re headed in a very wrong direction.

Second, please realize that Limits to Growth was published fifty years ago last year. For the most part, it’s proven to be dismayingly accurate.

Third, last year the book Earth for All was published. An executive summary can be found here. It pretty much picks up where Limits left off. We have two choices as a species and are highly probable to not like the consequences, and may not survive, if we choose wrong and continue business as usual, (Paris Agreement ring a bell?).

On the one hand, I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it would take for world powers to actually address existential issues since, excepting ozone, our track record isn’t great. On the other hand the future isn’t some thing that awaits US, it’s something each of US creates with every one of our daily actions, every single day. In that case, since next month there’s a major effort to get conversations going about how to create a worldwide sustainable economy, I’m going to participate in at least some of those conversations. The Hobson’s Choice is, if I don’t, I forfeit the future to those who fail to value it.

Here’s an invitation to those conversations. Please join US at Systems change, not climate change.


Earth Day


I am the Earth
And the Earth is me.
Each blade of grass,
Each honey tree,
Each bit of mud,
And stick and stone
Is blood and muscle,
Skin and bone.

And just as I
Need every bit
Of me to make
My body fit,
So Earth needs
Grass and stone and tree
And things that grow here
Naturally.

That’s why we
Celebrate this day.
That’s why across
The world we say:
As long as life,
As dear, as free,
I am the Earth
And the Earth is me. 


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Thursday, October 26, 2023

Feeding frenzy

This week I gave myself an early Christmas present. I bought a copy of Peter Kaminsky’s Fly Fisherman’s Guide to the Meaning of Life and started reading it. In one of the first few chapters, he describes striped bass in a feeding frenzy in terms that reminded me of years ago when I fished for stripers and bluefish off Cape Cod and Martha’s Vineyard.

“Bass! Thousands of them, all around us.Mad with bloodlust. Heedless of our boat. They banged against it with their bodies as they  chomped their way through  the ball of bait...."

the charm of fishing

the charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable,

a perpetual series of occasions for hope

Photo by J. Harrington

Unfortunately, it also made me think about  the way too many of us are reacting to various bits and pieces of news these days. No matter which group we’re in, we seem to be in a perpetual feeding frenzy over the wrongs committed by the other side. One example: there was a photo of a group of House members kneeling in prayer on the House floor and social media promptly became enraged about the start of a christo-fascist era. The series of reactions online was distressingly like bloodlust, and yet...

Doesn’t each house of Congress have a chaplain? Doesn’t our money claim “In God We Trust?” Should we be offended by those expressions of belief? As long as such belief doesn’t become mandatory, I think not. I’m a devout agnostic so I’m sensitive about that.

The Hamas-Israeli war seems to allow no acknowledgement that there is a long history of hostility that remained unresolved for too long. Now there is little tolerance for acknowledging degrees of fault on either side or with world powers for lack of leadership.

Will we now move from book banning to book burning? Isn't distorting and failing to acknowledge history part of what’s triggering Middle East hostilities? Shouldn’t we focus on teaching our children how to think rather than what to think? As we continue to be in each other’s faces and at each other’s throats, have we ever stopped to wonder who it is that thinks they benefit by keeping US in a feeding frenzy on each other?

I’m not here to propose solutions as much as I’m trying to point out we seem to be getting played, and have been for a long time. I grew up in a neighborhood where we kids taught  each other “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” If that’s not good enough, let’s remember that our “Judeo-Christian” culture is largely based on the teachings of someone who proposed “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” That  leaves me out. What  about you? Never mind tenderness and love, Let’s try to start (again) with a little tolerance.


This Morning I Pray for My Enemies


And whom do I call my enemy?
An enemy must be worthy of engagement.
I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking.
It’s the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind.
The heart is the smaller cousin of the sun.
It sees and knows everything.
It hears the gnashing even as it hears the blessing.
The door to the mind should only open from the heart.
An enemy who gets in, risks the danger of becoming a friend.



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Wednesday, October 25, 2023

Peace, Salam, Shalom

THIS MAY BE MY LAST  POSTING HERE SINCE GOOGLE INSISTS ON TRACKING ME IF I  WANT  TO ADD A PHOTO. “DON’T BE EVIL" MY ASS! 

If I can post text without having to sign in to a Google account, I’ll try that for a while as I look around for an alternative platform.

Now, to today’s post:

*****************

There's too much stupidity and anger in the world these days. The closest I can come to an effective response is:

  1. Spend more time as a part of Nature
  2. Listen more to Carrie Newcomer
  3. Read and think about today’s poem.

That’s it for now.


Making Peace


A voice from the dark called out,
             ‘The poets must give us
imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar
imagination of disaster. Peace, not only
the absence of war.’
                                   But peace, like a poem,
is not there ahead of itself,
can’t be imagined before it is made,
can’t be known except
in the words of its making,
grammar of justice,
syntax of mutual aid.
                                       A feeling towards it,
dimly sensing a rhythm, is all we have
until we begin to utter its metaphors,
learning them as we speak.
                                              A line of peace might appear
if we restructured the sentence our lives are making,
revoked its reaffirmation of profit and power,
questioned our needs, allowed
long pauses . . .
                        A cadence of peace might balance its weight
on that different fulcrum; peace, a presence,
an energy field more intense than war,
might pulse then,
stanza by stanza into the world,
each act of living
one of its words, each word
a vibration of light—facets
of the forming crystal.


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Tuesday, October 24, 2023

About decluttering

Jane Hirshfield has a new and selected poetry volume, published last month, The Asking. I think it needs to go on a Christmas list, along with a handful of other poetry books. It may also mean it’s time for me to reread her Ten Windows: How Great Poems Transform the World. That combination, together with a volume on Storytelling for a Greener World, that’s supposed to arrive this week, seems a fortuitous combination leading to a personal goal for next year, writing some greener world prose poems.

need the world be as beautiful as it is?
need the world be as beautiful as it is?
Photo by J. Harrington

On an old tv program, The A Team, there was a punch line that went “I love it when a plan comes together.” This afternoon, I’m feeling that way, combined with the old planners observation that “no amount of planning will ever replace dumb luck.” It has to do not only with books, but allso with computers. I need a new one and have been hesitant to get another Apple because of their lack of support for right to repair. It appears that, thanks to the Biden Administration, that’s been resolved.

Apple To Make Tools and Parts To Fix Phones and Computers Available Nationwide, White House Says 

None of the preceding offsets the major problems in the world these days, but their appearances do seem serendipitous, coming soon after I began focusing on George Herbert’s observation that “living well is the best revenge.” I’ve been spending so much time and energy fussing and fretting over events about which I can do little, that I’ve missed the significance of Maria Popova’s 14th Life Learning of 17 Life-Learnings from 17 Years of The Marginalian: Choose Joy. I doubt that it’s a coincidence that she quotes part of a Jane Hirshfield poem in her explication.

I think often of this verse from Jane Hirshfield’s splendid poem “The Weighing”

So few grains of happiness
measured against all the dark
and still the scales balance.

Nor do I find it coincidental that this fortuitous series of events has occurred shortly after the Better Half and I began serious efforts to declutter the place. Although there’s much in the world about which I can do little, brooding moodily is not an effective or acceptable alternative to exercising such control as I can over the events in my life. For additional insights into how this works, read some of Richard Wagamese’s books, especially Embers


Counting, This New Year’s Morning, What Powers Yet Remain To Me

by Jane Hirshfield


The world asks, as it asks daily:
And what can you make, can you do, to change my deep-broken, fractured?

I count, this first day of another year, what remains.
I have a mountain, a kitchen, two hands. 

Can admire with two eyes the mountain,
actual, recalcitrant, shuffling its pebbles, sheltering foxes and beetles.

Can make black-eyed peas and collards.
Can make, from last year’s late-ripening persimmons, a pudding.

Can climb a stepladder, change the bulb in a track light.

For four years, I woke each day first to the mountain,
then to the question.

The feet of the new sufferings followed the feet of the old,
and still they surprised.

I brought salt, brought oil, to the question. Brought sweet tea,
brought postcards and stamps. For four years, each day, something.

Stone did not become apple. War did not become peace.
Yet joy still stays joy. Sequins stay sequins. Words still bespangle, bewilder. 

Today, I woke without answer. 

The day answers, unpockets a thought from a friend

don't despair of this falling world, not yet

didn't it give you the asking



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Monday, October 23, 2023

No news isn’t always good news

I'm using today's posting to share some news that pleased me when I first learned about it and then caused me to wonder why I hadn't come across it sooner. Science appears to be making progress in the battle against buckthorn. For those with woodlands that are buckthorn infested, and that live near state lands that rarely appear to experience buckthorn removal, buckthorn can become a sensitive topic. If we remove it from our property, and MNDNR leaves infestations nearby, their infestations can serve as a reservoir of reinfestation for our property. Plus, we’re not supposed to transport buckthorn and weather doesn’t always cooperate (drought, anyone?) to make burning safe. So, here’s some links to the latest from the University of Minnesota:

female buckthorn with berries
female buckthorn with berries
Photo by J. Harrington

I stumbled into these resources because I had been glancing through a book I read some time ago, Beyond the War on Invasive Species, A Permaculture Approach to Ecosystem Management, by Tao Orion, and was frustrated to find the index lacked any mention of buckthorn. So, off to the internet and a search on buckthorn permaculture as key words. We were initially confounded by a number of references to sea buckthorn, but eventually found our way to the linked resources listed above.

The changes in forest management practices may not occur soon enough to benefit me personally, but it is encouraging to see progress bring made that offers some hope for minimizing the threat of buckthorn. Since so much of the news these days is full of discouraging reports, I think it would be great if there were a newspaper or magazine that expounded on the good news rather than extinctions, habitat loss and other forms of ecological crises. Wouldn’t you rather contribute to a successful startup rather than trying to protect another last stand? I wonder if any of the environmental nonprofits have considered a more entrepreneurial approach to project and program funding.

Anyhow, I hope this shows that the world isn’t only full of bad news, because, heaven knows, we need all the good news we can get these days.


Yes! No!

by Mary Oliver

How necessary it is to have opinions! I think the spotted trout
lilies are satisfied, standing a few inches above the earth. I
think serenity is not something you just find in the world,
like a plum tree, holding up its white petals.

The violets, along the river, are opening their blue faces, like
small dark lanterns.

The green mosses, being so many, are as good as brawny.

How important it is to walk along, not in haste but slowly,
looking at everything and calling out

Yes! No! The

swan, for all his pomp, his robes of grass and petals, wants
only to be allowed to live on the nameless pond. The catbrier
is without fault. The water thrushes, down among the sloppy
rocks, are going crazy with happiness. Imagination is better
than a sharp instrument. To pay attention, this is our endless
and proper work.



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Sunday, October 22, 2023

Enjoy it while we can

Our North Country can be, and often is, a very interesting place to live. The weather forecast for the upcoming week provides a fascinating example. Tuesday we’re expecting a high temperature of 67℉ and thunderstorms. Four days later, Saturday brings a high of 43℉ and snow showers. Of course, snow showers have already come and gone several times in the extended forecast, se we’re just going to wait and see, although the forecast looks like a pretty solid hint it’s time to start swapping seasonal wardrobes.

October’s North Country beauty
October’s North Country beauty
Photo by J. Harrington

Since deer firearms season opens soon (November 4), it’s also time to dig out florescent orange hats. vests and jackets and put away bug repellant shirts. I’ll try to make it until after Christmas before I start looking forward to again putting away winter coats etc. Although Ireland and northern England are generally warmer than our North Country, the fact that Imbolc, earliest of Celtic spring festivals, occurs about February 1 offers at least psychic relief while we still seem to be, and probably will be, in the depths of winter. The bug shirts will still be sleeping in the closet for several more months.

Closer to now we’ll celebrate Samhain/Halloween. Once again the prospect of having no Trick or Treaters except those in the family hangs over the holiday. One of the downsides of country living is that, in more than 25 years, all treats have stayed in the family, although the local raccoons or bears are good for occasional tricks involving scattering the contents of trash cans.

It will be many months before we again enjoy autumn’s vibrant colors. Let’s focus our attention this week on nature’s exuberance before she climbs under the covers to mostly sleep a season away. Perhaps next weekend we’ll watch snowflakes falling under a full moon.


Beginning


The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.   
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon's young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.


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Saturday, October 21, 2023

Should these times be more taxing?

It seems as though, once upon a time or so, I read that, if a society wants less of something, they should tax it. If there’s any truth to such guidance, I’m afraid I don’t understand why we haven’t decided to tax red meat. There was an article the other day that claims Eating red meat twice a week may increase type 2 diabetes risk, study finds. That comes on top of long standing knowledge that Livestock emissions – from manure and gastroenteric releases – account for roughly 32 per cent of human-caused methane emissions. None of which begins to address the surface and groundwater pollution from confined animal feedlot operations (CAFOs). Perhaps that old guidance was off target. After all, in the midst of increasing effects of climate breakdown, we continue to subsidize the fossil fuel industry.

Is there a beef with  bison?
Is there a beef with bison?
Photo by J. Harrington

But, let’s assume the idea of taxing what we want less of is true. That means we could, and should, impose more and more progressive taxes on:

  • fossil fuels
  • red meats
  • pharmaceutical price gouging
  • executive pay that exceeds some reasonable ratio to regular employee income
  • disinformation distributors
  • who or what else?

We raised a question about the country’s priorities the other day, when President Biden announced a request for $106bn aid to Congress for Israel, Ukraine and Gaza at the same time that Home health access for Minnesota seniors at risk as Medicare keeps cutting.

As long as I'm at it, what about the idea of taxing Artificial Intelligence that does anything except making current software bug-free, interoperable and unhackable. I’m tired of the amount of time I have to spend dealing with workarounds and/or responses to some programmers screwup.

All of which means we need to stop electing Republicans, who have clearly demonstrated that, even when they win by cheating, they’re incapable of governing or even carrying their own weight.


Ox Cart Man


In October of the year,
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,
counting the seed, counting
the cellar's portion out,
and bags the rest on the cart's floor.

He packs wool sheared in April, honey
in combs, linen, leather
tanned from deerhide,
and vinegar in a barrel
hoped by hand at the forge's fire.

He walks by his ox's head, ten days
to Portsmouth Market, and sells potatoes,
and the bag that carried potatoes,
flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goose
feathers, yarn.

When the cart is empty he sells the cart.
When the cart is sold he sells the ox,
harness and yoke, and walks
home, his pockets heavy
with the year's coin for salt and taxes,

and at home by fire's light in November cold
stitches new harness
for next year's ox in the barn,
and carves the yoke, and saws planks
building the cart again.


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Friday, October 20, 2023

Food! Sovereignty?

In a few hours we’ll pick up our final community supported agriculture [CSA] share of the year. That fits with our progression into the dark half of the year. In just more than two weeks, it starts getting dark really early when Daylight Savings Time ends. But, for now, here’s what sunshine and rain and soil and seeds and farmers have produced:

  • BUTTERNUT SQUASH
  • BABY PIE PUMPKIN
  • APPLES
  • DAIKON RADISH
  • BROCCOLI
  • BRIGHT LIGHTS CHARD
  • LETTUCE
  • GREEN ONIONS, and
  • CILANTRO

It’ll be a fun drive over mostly rural roads enhanced by autumn’s peak leaf colors. Even the oaks, usually conservative in their autumn dress, are looking exuberant this year. [Note to self: remember to bring good camera.]

typical oak leaf colors
typical oak leaf colors
Photo by J. Harrington

After some poking around on line, the Better Half [BH] and I have found, and concurred on, a source of new and different (to us) soup recipes to get us through another North Country winter. If you're interested. take a look here. The search was triggered by a mention on one of the social media platforms of a newly published UK book of Seasonal Soups. I couldn’t find anything really comparable for our North Country, so the on line search began.

Beth Dooley has several seasonal cook books based in Minnesota, but they’re focused on more than soups. It may, however, be worthwhile to take a look at some of her works in preparation for next year’s CSA seasons. Or, as usual, I could mind my own business and rely on BH’s creative solutions about what to do with the fresh vegetables I insist we buy and then complain about eating. She came up with a potato / cheese / cabbage combination the other day that I actually enjoyed eating. Perhaps the age of miracles hasn’t passed.

We are fortunate, so far, that for many of US winter is still a time for enjoying food and getting the proverbial “fat, dumb, and happy.” However, Congress has yet to pass a farm bill, nor has it authorized funding for the federal government for the current fiscal year. If folks keep electing too many Republicans, we may find ourselves wishing we were all farmers, with greenhouses, and rebuilding (re-digging?) root cellars. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.


Bread Soup: An Old Icelandic Recipe


Start with the square heavy loaf 
steamed a whole day in a hot spring 
until the coarse rye, sugar, yeast 
grow dense as a black hole of bread. 
Let it age and dry a little, 
then soak the old loaf for a day 
in warm water flavored 
with raisins and lemon slices. 
Boil it until it is thick as molasses. 
Pour it in a flat white bowl. 
Ladle a good dollop of whipped cream 
to melt in its brown belly. 
This soup is alive as any animal, 
and the yeast and cream and rye 
will sing inside you after eating 
for a long time.


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Thursday, October 19, 2023

Blowing smoke about blowing snow

Snowblower’s gassed, oiled and ready to go. Several years ago I bought a new Husqvarna. I can’t recommend them but haven’t carefully checked alternatives. Oil changes are difficult to almost impossible; the heated handle has never really worked; the dip stick is located right under the exhaust discharge, and the manual scatters the info needed to do an oil change over three widely separated pages. 

October 20, 3 years ago
October 20, 3 years ago
Photo by J. Harrington

Will being ready for snow buy an extended, snow-free autumn? We’ll see. The snow flakes that were in the extended weather forecast have disappeared. so that’s a good sign. It looks as though this weekend will bring peak leaf color to our neighborhood. Local woods are looking gorgeous. Not everything is a royal pain and at least we don’t live in the Middle East or Jim Jordan’s gerrymandered district.

As I write this, I’m nursing several new holes in my hide. A “check up” trip to the doctor’s this morning ended up with a couple of blood draws and a COVID booster. That’s the end of this seasons shots: Flu, RSV, and today’s. I suppose the progress is that there are vaccines, not that three classes of diseases have become annual threats for some of US.

Reviewing the front pages of international newspapers, it appears the only thing missing is an alien attack from space. Stay tuned. Slashdot notes an increase in UFO reports. The chaos in the Republican caucus in the House is pathetic and an indication of serious stumbling blocks obstructing eventual funding of the federal government. Plus, farmers are in a world of growing hurt without reauthorization of a farm bill. Meanwhile, retailers continue to prematurely install Christmas decoration exhibits. If I were a Christian fundamentalist, I could well believe these are signs of End Times. Since I’m a student Druid Bard, I’m going to study storytelling, poetry and the like and offer prayers and spells for better days.


Peace Walk


We wondered what our walk should mean,
taking that un-march quietly;
the sun stared at our signs— “Thou shalt not kill.”

Men by a tavern said, “Those foreigners . . .”
to a woman with a fur, who turned away—
like an elevator going down, their look at us.

Along a curb, their signs lined across,
a picket line stopped and stared
the whole width of the street, at ours: “Unfair.”

Above our heads the sound truck blared—
by the park, under the autumn trees—
it said that love could fill the atmosphere:

Occur, slow the other fallout, unseen,
on islands everywhere—fallout, falling
unheard. We held our poster up to shade our eyes.

At the end we just walked away;
no one was there to tell us where to leave the signs.


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Wednesday, October 18, 2023

Bridging divides

We’ve reached the time when even the oak leaves are changing color. For the first time this season, snow showers have appeared in the extended forecast for late next week. I’ve not yet got around to starting up the snow blower but my motivation just increased. This afternoon or tomorrow we’ll get fresh gas and go from there.

There’s an article in today’s Daily Yonder that made me feel a smidgen of hope for our future. It’s republished below and followed by today’s poem.


Progressives Hope ‘Rural New Deal’ Will Address Economic Issues and Appeal to Voters

Progressive Democrats of America and Rural Urban Bridge Initiative have co-authored a policy paper laying out a set of strategies to revitalize the economy in rural areas through “federal investment in bottom-up solutions.” 

With input from rural leaders and advocates, the Rural New Deal brings together economic policies that are popular with progressives and tailors them to suit the needs of rural communities. 

Democrats have a chance at winning in 2024 if they work to rebuild trust with rural voters, Anthony Flaccavento, director of Rural Urban Bridge Initiative (RUBI), told the Daily Yonder. 

“The federal government is proposing this policy template, but every element needs to be organized such that it's sensitive to the specifics of the regions, that the programs are being applied and that there is local input into how they actually operate at the local level,” Flaccavento said.

The Rural New Deal is made up of 10 overarching economic policy goals, or pillars. These include items such as breaking up corporate monopolies and ensuring livable wages, among others. Each pillar comes with a set of actions that either the federal government or other rural community leaders can take. These range from providing subsidies to small businesses to expanding road and rail infrastructure. 

Additionally, the Rural New Deal focuses on other policy areas like sustainable food production, broadband expansion, affordable housing, public education, and healthcare. It calls for measures such as Medicaid and Medicare expansion, investments in vocational training, and free community college.

The release of the policy document comes at a time when the Democratic Party is becoming less competitive in national races, according to Jeff Bloodworth, a professor of political history at Gannon University in Pennsylvania who studies rural elections. 

He said the Democrats have increasingly focused their electoral strategy on urban areas since the 1960s, while gradually devoting less attention to rural voters. They performed especially poorly in the 2016 and 2020 presidential elections, losing the rural vote to Republicans by more than 20 percentage points in both. 

Progressive candidates like Pennsylvania U.S. Senator John Fetterman and former Maine State Senator Chloe Maxmin won their seats after years of organizing in their states’ rural communities. But Democrats as a whole often don’t run candidates in rural areas, especially at the state and local level, Bloodworth said. 

“Half the state legislative seats in Mississippi, the Democrats don't even run a candidate,” Bloodworth said. “And Mississippi's not an outlier. Democrats were competitive and controlled the state legislature in Mississippi well into the ’90s they just quit trying. They don't show up anymore.”

Alan Minsky, the director of Progressive Democrats of America, and Flaccavento view the Rural New Deal as an important step in building a relationship between progressive candidates and rural communities, both during and beyond elections. But they both see potential issues with its implementation. They anticipate Republican opposition to the Rural New Deal’s calls for increased government investment or decreased privatization, as well as lingering biases against rural voters from Democratic politicians and pundits. 

Urban progressives have assumptions about how rural Americans vote: that they all vote Republican, that they vote against their own interests, or that they simply don’t care about the same things urban progressives care about. Flaccavento said these assumptions can lead Democrats to dismiss the issues that rural Americans face. Republicans, by contrast, are more likely to try to appeal to rural voters, Minsky said.

“The Republican Party has consistently presented itself as the ally of business and therefore it fits in with this notion of being the party that advocates for pulling yourself up by the bootstraps, do hard work, etc,” he said.

Though Republicans have consistently outperformed Democrats among rural voters in recent elections, rural voters themselves – especially young rural voters – have expressed dissatisfaction with how both parties handle economic issues. Minsky, who remembers Ronald Reagan’s elections in 1980 and 1984, saw how unpopular his administration’s economic policies were among rural workers, policies that are still part of the Republican Party’s platform. 

“He really initiated an era of economic policy of not securing and supporting independent businesses and family farmers and allowing the process of corporate monopolization to begin. And then sadly, when you get the Democratic administration coming in ’92, they in no way reverse that,” he said. “In fact, they again acquiesced to the policies for the most part.”

Republicans’ use of “culture war” strategies has also produced mixed results in capturing rural support. In Ohio, a 2013 state constitutional amendment that would have restricted abortion rights failed to attract as much support in rural areas as candidate Donald Trump did in 2020. Similarly, rural Wisconsin voters shifted 5 points to the left in the 2023 election of pro-choice progressive, Janet Protasiewicz, to the state Supreme Court this past April, compared to senatorial and presidential elections. 

Flaccavento said that voters’ responses to these strategies are complex and often informed by their material conditions. 

“Culture war issues are way more effective in dividing us in large part because people feel abandoned economically,” Flaccavento said. “As Democrats begin to really prioritize the needs of everyday people across geography, but especially in rural, … then it's much more likely that those other issues will be like, ‘Well, we don't agree, but that's OK.’”

Bloodworth added that urban progressives need to understand the nuances of rural political attitudes if they want to get support for policies like the Rural New Deal.

“We should not assume that people in rural America are naturally more conservative…Their liberalism, where they are liberals, has a different sensibility,” Bloodworth said. 

This article first appeared on The Daily Yonder and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

 

bridge building in process
bridge building in process
Photo by J. Harrington

The Bridge Builder


An old man going a lone highway,
Came, at the evening cold and gray,
To a chasm vast and deep and wide.
Through which was flowing a sullen tide
The old man crossed in the twilight dim,
The sullen stream had no fear for him;
But he turned when safe on the other side
And built a bridge to span the tide.

“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim near,
“You are wasting your strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day,
You never again will pass this way;
You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide,
Why build this bridge at evening tide?”

The builder lifted his old gray head;
“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followed after me to-day
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm that has been as naught to me
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be;
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building this bridge for him!”


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Tuesday, October 17, 2023

o tempora! o mores!

After a very foggy morning, we’re enjoying another beautiful autumn afternoon. I’ve lived in Minnesota long enough that I’m experiencing “We’ll pay for this!” vibes. As I’m sure you know, Halloween / Samhain is but two weeks from now. Peak leaf color is near in our neck of the woods. Dandelions are still blooming, as are butter and eggs. Although we’ve yet to experience a frost, the mosquitoes, deer flies, and related vermin have disappeared. Hornets and wasps are still out and about. That reminds me. I should get out and about more, not in the Jeep but on my feet. I should write 500 times “Looking at nature through the window is NOT forest bathing or anything like it."

foggy October morning
foggy October morning
Photo by J. Harrington

Sourdough is proofing in a banneton basket. Bread baking is progressing better as I pay more attention to what happens as a result of what I do. I bet a similar approach would benefit my fly fishing and poetry attempts. That’s something to think about and work on over the winter.

If I seem more out of sorts than usual today, it’s due, in part, to concerns that Jim Jordon may eventually be elected Speaker and what that would mean for the country. If, at any job I’ve ever held, I were as inept and unproductive as Republicans are these days, I would have been fired, and deserved it. It seems we have to wait until next year to fire unproductive members of Congress and that’s possible only if more of US come to our senses. That’s all for now, except I think today’s poem is an indication that others have been where we are now, so perhaps there’s hope.

(If you need or want an explanation for today’s title, look here.)


If—


(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)

If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;   
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!


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Monday, October 16, 2023

More of the same? Really?

I’m finding it increasingly difficult to really give a damn about national affairs. There seems to be no effective way to eliminate Republicans incompetent at governing, nor does there seem to be an upwelling of voters with torches and pitchforks ready to descend on Congress in order to force effective compromise. I doubt very much that the Founders envisioned a situation such as the nation faces today.

Perhaps the emergence of Artificial Intelligence (AI) will reawaken a strain of Luddites to bring some sanity to that sector before it does too much damage. In the process, maybe we will see a third major political party based on some version of democratic Anarchy. If we got lucky, significant progress along those lines might do much to diminish (eliminate?) global neoliberal capitalism, destroy global corporatocracy, and thereby eliminate ecocide.

“The ultimate test of man's conscience may be his willingness to sacrifice something today for future generations whose words of thanks will not be heard.” ― Gaylord Nelson
“The ultimate test of man's conscience may be his willingness to sacrifice something today
for future generations whose words of thanks will not be heard.” ― Gaylord Nelson
Photo by J. Harrington

Look about and tell US how it is that perpetual growth producing more, bigger, faster, with little, if any, effective recycling or related activities is producing a world that functions well, makes people happy, and meets human needs. Perhaps next session, the Minnesota Legislature could, and should, establish a Task Force to study and report on the benefits of adopting a system like Bhutan’s Gross National Happiness (GNH) instead of studying metro governance with few, if any, clear performance objectives in sight. On the other hand:

According to the Bhutanese government, the four pillars of GNH are:[13]

  1. sustainable and equitable socio-economic development;
  2. environmental conservation;
  3. preservation and promotion of culture; and
  4. good governance.

The nine domains of GNH are psychological well-being, health, time use, education, cultural diversity and resilience, good governance, community vitality, ecological diversity and resilience, and living standards.[14][15][16]

As the old saying goes, “you ain’t lost if you don’t care where you are.” That’s about the only reason I can think of why we haven’t been declared yet another Lost Generation. The list of countries reported to hate each other seems to be growing. Respite is needed.


Happiness


There’s just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.

And how can you not forgive?
You make a feast in honor of what
was lost, and take from its place the finest
garment, which you saved for an occasion
you could not imagine, and you weep night and day
to know that you were not abandoned,
that happiness saved its most extreme form
for you alone.

No, happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair.

It comes to the monk in his cell.
It comes to the woman sweeping the street
with a birch broom, to the child
whose mother has passed out from drink.
It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing
a sock, to the pusher, to the basketmaker,
and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots
in the night.
                     It even comes to the boulder
in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,
to rain falling on the open sea,
to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.


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