Happy National Day, pets!

If you have a pet, go hug him or her or both. If you don’t have a pet, see if you can borrow one.

Today is National Pet Day, so we start with a recent picture of SiSi [in front] and Harry. They think every day is their day so let’s not tell them about today’s special observation. The Better Half has an aquarium of goldfish. I’m not sure if they count as actual pets. Daughter Person et. al. brought home their new puppy yesterday, on Sibling’s Day, to play with their other dog. Timing couldn’t have been better.

SiSI [blond] and Harry [beagle]

Photo by J. Harrington

There’s still no signs of color and life returning to the nearby woods and wetlands. Spring this year appears to be running well behind schedule and now the NWS is scaring us with the possibilities of tornadoes sometime during the next several days. Since it’s likely the storm(s) will drop more dead branches from the trees, I’m glad I’ve not yet begun winter’s cleanup of that mess. Total amount of work is the same, but going back over the same territory several times is annoying, at least to me.

I’ve reached a point at which I can no longer take for granted events or actions I find consonant with how I would like the world to be. Recently Trout Unlimited has been getting a fair amount of acknowledgements  along those lines and I’ve just discovered they’ve done it again. The current issue of TROUT magazine has an article by Shauna Stephenson, Is your food killing your fishing? It focuses on the effects of pesticides, particularly neonicotinoids, on aquatic insects. It also acknowledges the work of the Xerces Society’s Sarah Hoyle, a pesticide program specialist at the Society. As a consequence of the article, I’ll probably make a donation to TU and take out a membership in the Xerces Society. One of my bigger frustrations these days is it’s difficult to find successful ways to break down our industrial agricultural system. So, instead of sitting back and doing no more than complaining, I keep looking for new ways that I haven’t yet tried to make a positive difference. It’s why I still vote Democratic, but that’s another source of frustration, as you may well surmise.

The other aspect I’m working more at is having fun, one way or another, instead of wallowing wading in constant gloom and doom. The Better Half and I are looking forward to seeing what, if anything, blooms this summer on our side hill. We scattered lots of seeds last autumn. We’re also going to plant a pollinator yard in fron of the house, if it ever stops snowing and a tornado doesn’t get us. A long, long time ago I wrote a poem that includes the idea that “’Tis better to light a candle than curse the darkness.” That’s still true.

He's Just My Dog

By Gene Hill

He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds;

my other ears that hear above the winds.

He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea.

He has told me a thousand times over that

I am his reason for being;

by the way he rests against my leg;

by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile;

by the way he shows his hurt when I leave

without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry

when he is not along to care for me)

When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive.

When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile.

When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool,

he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him,

I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful.

He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion.

With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace.

He has brought me understanding where before was ignorance.

His head on my knee can heal my human hurts.

His presence by my side is protection against my fears

of dark and unknown things.

He has promised to wait for me......whenever

......wherever -- in case I need him.

And I expect I will -- as I always have.

He is just my dog.

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Please be kind to each other while you can.

’Tis the season???

 If we get thunderstorms tomorrow, the day may prove to be more interesting than we’d prefer. Harry the beagle, the Better Half’s most recent rescue dog, is skittish about almost anything new that doesn’t involve food and often startles at loud noises. SiSi, my dog, has been afraid of thunder ever since she came to live with us. Just to demonstrate how foolishly optimistic I can be, I’m going to surmise that one outcome could be that the two dogs will console each other rather than respond with double the amount of neuroses. But I wouldn’t bet the ranch on that.

mutual support is wonderful

Photo by J. Harrington

Today I took a long drive through the suburbs of the Twin Cities East Metro on a quest to get a certain Christmas present that I wanted to physically inspect before purchasing, rather than ordering online and waiting for delivery. There’s been a hell of a lot of subdivision development since the last time I visited that neck of the woods. I found it depressing. It reminded me of Ed Abbey’s observation that “Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.” The bright side is that my quest was successful and much of the country I drove through is still underdeveloped.

We can now consider Christmas shopping complete, although, if the opportunity presents itself, there’s one or two more things we’d like to pick up. Much depends on how thick and long-lasting any ice cover following tomorrows storm may be, or if there are other serious consequences therefrom. Here’s the latest from the Twin Cities office of the National Weather Service:

Lightning

by Mary Oliver

The oaks shone
gaunt gold
on the lip
of the storm before
the wind rose,
the shapeless mouth
opened and began
its five-hour howl;
the lights
went out fast, branches
sidled over
the pitch of the roof, bounced
into the year
that grew black
within minutes, except
for the lightening - the landscape
bulging forth like a quick
lesson in creating, then
thudding away. Inside,
as always,
it was hard to tell
fear from excitement:
how sensual
the lightning’s
poured stroke! and still,
what a fire and a risk!
As always the body
wants to hide,
wants to flow toward it - strives
to balance while
fear shouts,
excitement shouts, back
and forth - each
bolt a burning river
tearing like escape through the dark
field of the other.

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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.