What is this “normal” you talk about?

If one considers just some of the events of the past week or two: an attempted assassination of a former present who's campaigning to return to the office; the withdrawal of a current president from campaigning for a second term weeks before the party's nominating convention; a software glitch that created continuing havoc world wide; a state senator threatening civil war if the candidate he supports doesn't win the upcoming presidential election, then apologizing (without retraction?), one might wonder if this IS a new normal and, if not, would one know a new normal if one saw it. The preceding list in far from inclusive and intentionally leaves out environmental issues that are global in scope and grossly under-addressed. The preceding sentences would not have been written if there appeared to be a comparable number of positive events offsetting the negative list.

It appears to me that too many of US are permitting those with a "my way or the highway" perspective to have entirely too much influence and power. How we achieve an appropriate reset remains an open question. I had some concerns about how effective Kamala Harris might be as a candidate until I was reminded of how she questioned Brett Kavanaugh at his confirmation hearing. She might not have made him cry, but she did make him quite uncomfortable. I just hope the Democrats don’t do anything stupid or untoward to mess up the likelihood of the American electorate having an opportunity to display some good taste and common sense. I’d like to avoid a repeat of 1968 in Chicago and 2016 nation-wide.

Little Summer Poem Touching The Subject Of Faith

by Mary Oliver

Every summer
I listen and look
under the sun's brass and even
into the moonlight, but I can't hear

anything, I can't see anything --
not the pale roots digging down, nor the green
stalks muscling up,
nor the leaves
deepening their damp pleats,

nor the tassels making,
nor the shucks, nor the cobs.
And still,
every day,

the leafy fields
grow taller and thicker --
green gowns lofting up in the night,
showered with silk. 

And so, every summer,
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing --
I am deaf too
to the tick of the leaves, 

the tapping of downwardness from the banyan feet --
all of it
happening
beyond any seeable proof, or hearable hum. 

And, therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in the dirt

swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear? 

One morning
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn's beautiful body
is sure to be there.

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

Sorcerer’s apprentice opens Pandora’s box

Yesterday the Better Half and I drove past one of the local sugarbushes. She noticed they had their sap collection tubing strung. A little farther down the road, as we crossed the St. Croix river, she spotted a fisherman, in a boat, on the open water of the river. This is not usual for early February in the North Country.

Today, as we drove home from a mid-morning visit to the Daughter Person, Son-In-Law and Granddaughter, in 28℉ temperatures, with cloud covered skies, we noticed the dusting of snow on the road edges was melting. Neither of us has the slightest idea how to explain that, since the overnight temperatures had stayed well below freezing and there had been no noticeable sunshine all morning.

phone lines: threads by which we hang?

Photo by J. Harrington

Yesterday’s ultra-ultra-slow internet service has been restored to its usual less than broadband speeds, after only about 36 hours of effective outage. I suspect things will get worse before they get better. Why? Here’s some examples:

• Landline Phone Owners Are Protesting AT&T’s Plans to Drop Service


• Still love your landline? Phone service providers are getting closer to phasing it out


• Fiber cut along North Shore exposes vulnerabilities in tech-dependent world


• Chinese hackers infiltrated plane, train and water systems for five years, US says

We have created, and are becoming increasingly dependent on, systems that are insufficiently reliable relative to their criticality. Who in the US government is the systems agency responsible for thinking about the system of systems we depend on? It might be helpful to think about something more than short term self indulgence come next November.

The Battle of Silicon Valley at Daybreak

Alexandria Peary

In a countryside green as a dollar bill,
with the much handled commercial vegetation
from around mall parking lots or in freeway divides,
in a landscape where the wireless has been shut off,
emoji are at war. Emoji are at war
in the mural outside the employee cafeteria
for reading The Things They Carried or Yellow Birds
or The Red Badge of Courage: instead of eating,
emoji are at war.

Outfitted in a list supplied by Wikipedia,
(breastplates, gauntlets, steel collars, mail shirts,
vambrace, pouldron, bassinet, barbute, aventail),
chain armor from a 3-d printer for a smaller budget,
emoji are at war: Blushing Emoji, Frustrated, Weeping,
Smiling Emoji near the village firewall, 
& a thousand spears like toothpicks,
emoji are at war.

It’s like Where’s Waldo. It’s like Pac Man.
I spot with my little eye in the “watch-fires of a hundred
circling camps” two generals outside a recharging tent,
a tiny banner unfurling PRIVACY  *  NET NEUTRALITY  
* DEREGULATION. Sound of emoji blood 
as the Smiling Emoji advance, swallowing everything,
going postal, kamikaze, road rage, suicide bomber
“hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,”
sound of emoji blood.

A sword pierces Blushing Emoji #956, Pram’s son, 
below the groin, and “the dark came whirling down 
across his eyes”; a hurled spear is shot through the temple of 
Angry Emoji #23, only son of Matthew Thornton 
of Boston, and “the dark came swirling thick across his eyes,”
sound of emoji blood. Sound of Emoji blood as Weeping 
Emoji #3,418, daughter of the river god, a bullet 
plunging into her lung, lodges in the “mortal spot,”
scream fumes.

Outside the village firewall, internet access was slowing 
way, way down until the CEO who has her eye on Jim,
a Cubicle Emoji, petitions the Board of Directors
to rescue Jim from his jangling fate of war, seduces him, 
gives birth to a daughter ½ Hollywood, ½ New Jersey mortal, 
with a weak ankle…Emoji were at war.

                         The CAPS LOCK is on,
so this story ends at the door to the men’s restroom. 
For we have seen,

I have seen, you have seen, they have seen how emoji blood sounds
like a ring tone of a 50 gun salute in a thousand wavy ploughed
lines, lines, lines, lines where truth is marching on.

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

Tales told by idiots ... signifying nothing?

I’m going to skip ranting today but I want to call to your attention some likely misguided governmental expenditures. Although I don’t support polluting our environment, there seems to be logic lacking behind these efforts:

• A new report published by the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency found it would cost $14 billion to $28 billion over the next two decades to clean up so-called “forever chemicals” from wastewater streams across the state.


• Early estimates of the cost of removing PFAS from drinking water nationwide are about $400 billion — dwarfing the cost of settlements and cleanup costs from environmental contamination like asbestos and lead pipes or other public health settlements tied to tobacco and opioids.


• New research from Stockholm University found that the levels of PFAS in rainwater now exceed levels deemed safe by health and environment advisory agencies.

Has anyone taken a look at the global hydrologic system to determine if the removals from drinking and wastewater can be effective given the ubiquitous distribution of PFAS in rainwater? Does anyone remember the old advice about locking the barn door before the horse is stolen?

It seems to me that the kind of failed systemic approach reflected in the news items above could well be continued if voters don’t demand more from those running for election. Former Governor Carlson recently called to our attention a major failure by the Walz administration and the Democrats in this piece published by MinnPost: Promises made, promises broken when it comes to Glencore and sulfide mining in northern Minnesota. Fortunately, the Army Corps of Engineers was brought to its senses, if belatedly, and

... has revoked a key permit for the proposed NorthMet copper-nickel mine in northeastern Minnesota, formerly known as the PolyMet project. 

The Army Corps rescinded the permit, known as the Clean Water Act “Section 404” wetlands permit, because the agency said the permit could not “ensure compliance with the applicable downstream water quality requirements” of the Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa, whose reservation lies downstream from the proposed mine on the St. Louis River. 

is this really “reclamation?"

Photo by J. Harrington

There is a better way to regulate mining and international efforts have identified and are improving best practices for mining operations. Isn’t it past time for Governor Walz and the Democrat-controlled legislature to replace the state’s out-dated and insufficiently effective mining regulation with the kind the Governor promised before he was elected? Or do we agree with the kind of irrational rant brought to us by the current Congressional representative of the Iron Range?

Eighth District Congressman Pete Stauber issued a blistering statement in the wake of the decision, calling it a “gift to the Chinese Communist Party.”

Stauber said the decision highlights the need for “serious mining reform to limit frivolous lawsuits and modernize the Clean Water Act permitting process” and he blamed the decision on activists in Washington. “Because of this, America will be more reliant on China, which has no environmental or labor standards and uses minerals sourced by child labor,” he stated.

Forever – is composed of Nows – (690)

By Emily Dickinson

Forever – is composed of Nows –

‘Tis not a different time –

Except for Infiniteness –

And Latitude of Home –

From this – experienced Here –

Remove the Dates – to These –

Let Months dissolve in further Months –

And Years – exhale in Years –

Without Debate – or Pause –

Or Celebrated Days –

No different Our Years would be

From Anno Dominies – 

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

The trouble with October

At the moment, the only complaint I have about October is the amount of political ads and commentary we have to suffer. I suppose an alternative is to forego tv, social media and newspapers from now until Thanksgiving. Go ahead, tell me what’s wrong with that approach.

A well known Native American writer phrased it more positively when she wrote:

“The only way to get change is not through the courts or — heaven forbid — the politicians, but through a change of human consciousness and through a change of heart. Only through the arts — music, poetry, dance, painting, writing — "can we really reach each other,” 
― Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony

I’m bringing this up in part because this month is National Arts and Humanities Month. I can’t decide if it’s consummately ironic celebrating arts and humanities the month before elections or, perhaps, incredibly hopeful that politics may some day improve enough to be encompassed by the humanities. That’s something to be wished for devoutly, right?

what’s the story behind this sign?

Photo by J. Harrington

One of the losses in politics these days  that troubles me the most is we seem to have lost interest in trying to really reach each other. Democrats and Republicans, liberals and conservatives, have moved beyond seeing and treating each other as opponents and now behave as if those who do not concur are enemies. That shifts the terms of politics from compromising on solutions to the country’s problems to winning a war by vanquishing the enemy. That may be what some of US prefer but I hope it isn’t what most of US want.

Some time ago it occurred to me that I could fix a problem or I could fix the blame for the problem, but I didn’t have the time and resources to do both, especially if the alleged cause of the problem was instrumental to its solution. Yes, you’re correct, I’m referring to training dogs. Scaring a dog into obedience is not likely to produce a satisfactory relationship. How can we get beyond corporate funding in politics and only nominate those who represent the best in humanity? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?

Why We Tell Stories

by Lisel Mueller

For Linda Foster

I
Because we used to have leaves
and on damp days
our muscles feel a tug,
painful now, from when roots
pulled us into the ground

and because our children believe
they can fly, an instinct retained
from when the bones in our arms
were shaped like zithers and broke
neatly under their feathers

and because before we had lungs
we knew how far it was to the bottom
as we floated open-eyed
like painted scarves through the scenery
of dreams, and because we awakened

and learned to speak

2
We sat by the fire in our caves,
and because we were poor, we made up a tale
about a treasure mountain
that would open only for us

and because we were always defeated,
we invented impossible riddles 
only we could solve,
monsters only we could kill,
women who could love no one else
and because we had survived
sisters and brothers, daughters and sons,
we discovered bones that rose
from the dark earth and sang
as white birds in the trees

3
Because the story of our life 
becomes our life

Because each of us tells
the same story
but tells it differently

and none of us tells it
the same way twice

Because grandmothers looking like spiders
want to enchant the children
and grandfathers need to convince us
what happened happened because of them

and though we listen only
haphazardly, with one ear,
we will begin our story
with the word and 

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

Never too old to learn to be grateful

 N. Scott Momaday has a new book that will be released or published on Tuesday, May 3: Dream Drawings, Configurations of a Timeless Kind. It’s on order and should be delivered in about a week. That will give me a decent opportunity to get several other recently acquired books read before the pile grows much higher. Part of my “problem” is that I keep rereading books I’ve already read as new material reminds me of certain passages or themes. There may not be a grand synthesis of knowledge and wisdom, but that’s not likely to keep me from trying to conjure one. It all goes back to learning that Joni Mitchell was accurate and truthful when she wrote:

We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

much of May, Earth showers us with beauty

Photo by J. Harrington

Even if we’re not living in the original garden of Eden, during much of May Earth showers the North Country with many kinds of beauty. Too often, I’ve found myself taking it for granted. That lack of gratitude was disrupted the first time I read Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants. That’s also when I learned that my basic understanding of reciprocity, which I took to mean the biblical “an eye for an eye” was wrong. Gratitude, properly understood, is more like the golden rule. In fact, to welcome May properly, and help celebrate Beltane, I want to quote extensively from a Kimmerer essay on reciprocity.

Reciprocity—returning the gift—is not just good manners; it is how the biophysical world works. Balance in ecological systems arises from negative feedback loops, from cycles of giving and taking. Reciprocity among parts of the living Earth produces equilibrium, in which life as we know it can flourish. When the gift is in motion, it can last forever. Positive feedback loops, in which interactions spur one another away from balance, produce radical change, often to a point of no return.

How can we reciprocate the gifts of the Earth?

1. We must recognize ourselves as only one member of the great democracy of species and understand that we, like every other successful organism, must play by the rules that govern ecosystem function. The laws of thermodynamics have not been suspended on our behalf. Unlimited growth is not possible. In a finite world, we cannot relentlessly take without replenishment.
2. Long before the descent of humans, a solar economy of plants created a living world from inanimate materials, constantly regenerating life through networks of reciprocity. Industrial economies are hell-bent on reversing that process, converting the gloriously animate to cold dead products with stunning efficiency. Our paths on the Earth are shaped by what we love the most. We participate in economies that appear to love profits for a few members of one species more than a good green world for all. We have a choice to invest our love otherwise. We must align our economies with ecological principles and human integrity.
3. Ecological restoration is an act of reciprocity and the Earth asks us to turn our gifts to healing the damage we have done. The Earth-shaping prowess that we thoughtlessly use to sicken the land can be used to heal it. It is not just the land that is broken, but our relationship with land. We can be medicine for the Earth, partners in renewal.
4. Reciprocity is rooted in the understanding that we are not alone, that the Earth is populated by non-human persons, wise and inventive beings deserving of our respect. We tolerate governance that grants legal personhood and free speech to corporations but denies that respect to voiceless salamanders and sugar maples. The Earth asks that we be their voice. Indigenous-led movements across the world are conferring legal personhood on rivers and mountains. The Declaration of the Rights of Mother Earth has been presented to the United Nations. I think the Earth is asking for our vote.

Gratitude is our first, but not our only gift. We are storytellers, music makers, devisers of ingenious machines, healers, scientists, and lovers of an Earth who asks that we give our own unique gifts on behalf of life.

Let us live in a way that Earth will be grateful for us.

As I’ve become more involved in sustainable development and resilient living, or vice versa, I’ve come to believe more and more that many Native Americans have philosophies and world views that are more aligned with the values I now hold dear than I can find in neoliberal capitalism or anything like it. That brings us back to my looking forward to the arrival of Dream Drawings and sometime soon rereading Braiding Sweetgrass again.

Worms

By Carl Dennis

Aren't you glad at least that the earthworms  

Under the grass are ignorant, as they eat the earth,  

Of the good they confer on us, that their silence  

Isn't a silent reproof for our bad manners,  

Our never casting earthward a crumb of thanks  

For their keeping the soil from packing so tight  

That no root, however determined, could pierce it?  

Imagine if they suspected how much we owe them,  

How the weight of our debt would crush us  

Even if they enjoyed keeping the grass alive,  

The garden flowers and vegetables, the clover,  

And wanted nothing that we could give them,  

Not even the merest nod of acknowledgment.  

A debt to angels would be easy in comparison,  

Bright, weightless creatures of cloud, who serve  

An even brighter and lighter master.  

Lucky for us they don't know what they're doing,  

These puny anonymous creatures of dark and damp  

Who eat simply to live, with no more sense of mission  

Than nature feels in providing for our survival.  

Better save our gratitude for a friend  

Who gives us more than we can give in return  

And never hints she's waiting for reciprocity.  

"If I had nickel, I'd give it to you,"  

The lover says, who, having nothing available  

In the solid, indicative world, scrapes up  

A coin or two in the world of the subjunctive.  

"A nickel with a hole drilled in the top  

So you can fasten it to your bracelet, a charm  

To protect you against your enemies."  

For his sake, she'd wear it, not for her own,  

So he might believe she's safe as she saunters  

Home across the field at night, the moon above her,  

Below her the loam, compressed by the soles of her loafers,  

And the tunneling earthworms, tireless, silent,  

As they persist, oblivious, in their service.

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

Whatcha got?

This afternoon a pileated woodpecker visited what’s left of the suet. [Note to self: get more suet soon.] It was the first visit of the season. Woodpeckers and gazillions of black-capped chickadees at the feeders are nice signs of normalcy these days. Temperatures have warmed enough that local waters are opening again. All in all a fairly typical late autumn heading into winter in the North Country.

pileated woodpecker on suet feeder

Photo by J. Harrington

We’re three weeks away from astronomical winter and a little more than a day until the start of meteorological winter. We’re also slightly more than a month away from the end of 2021 and the start of 2022. Part of what I’m wishing for this Christmas is the insight needed to have a more satisfying and joyous year next year than this year has been. I let the COVID and the climate crisis and politics and whatever get to me more than I should. Worst of all, I really have no one to blame but myself. I keep waiting for things to get better instead of making the best I can of what I have to work with.

A few years after the many years ago that I was born, Walt Disney released a movie called So Dear to My Heart. It included a song titled It’s Whatcha Do With Whatcha Got. The lyrics to that song are today’s poem because I suspect many of you may be feeling worn thin, as I am, from one or another, after another, conundrum to deal with. That’s not the way we want to enjoy the holiday season. The words below might help, if we take them to heart.

IT'S WHATCHA DO WITH WHATCHA GOT

Gene Vincent De Paul (m) Don Raye (l) as rec by Kay Starr

It's whatcha do with whatcha got, You never mind how much you've got, It's whatcha do with what you've got That pays off in the end! You gotta add how much you do, Then multiply by what you do; You think you can't win, but you do, And you get that dividend! It's the means you apply it That raises your stock; Look what David did to Goliath With a little old hunk o' rock! It's whatcha do with whatcha got, Never mind how much you've got, It's whatcha do with what you've got That pays off in the end! It's the means you apply it That raises your stock; Look what David did to Goliath With a little old sling and a hunk o' rock! It's whatcha do with whatcha got, Never mind how much you've got, It's whatcha do with what you've got That pays off in the end! Take my advice, brother, I have been through it! It ain't what you do, it's the way that you do it! Once you know how, well there ain't nothin' to it And it pays off in the end!

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

A necessary errand in the cold

The temperature was about -3℉, and the windchill between -25℉ and -30℉, when we headed out a bit ago to get some bird seed. The metal trash can in the garage, that we use for rodent-proof storage, was down to a few crumbs. The cold spell has at least another week to go and we're not sure how many of this winter's seeds the chickadees and their buddies have already cached. It's not an ok time to stop feeding, so off we went for a 50 pound bag of coarse chipped sunflower seeds at the local feed and grain shop.

iced rim of heated bird bath - waterer

Photo by J. Harrington

As cold as it's been, we suspect the open water in the heated bird bath may be at least as helpful as sunflower seeds to the birds and squirrels in the neighborhood. This weekend, in fact, beginning today, it's the Great Backyard Bird Count. We haven't yet decided if we'll participate. We need to get a better idea if our collection of goldfinches, chickadees, nuthatches, cardinals, woodpeckers, etc. would add anything meaningful. This is, from our perspective, more a case of the mountains (birds) coming to Muhammad (feeders) and that doesn't feel quite right. We did see an all too infrequently glimpsed bird the other day as we were driving near the wetlands along County Road 36, a ruffed grouse. (No, it wasn't a hen pheasant.) There are few grouse around and we'd really like to see more of them and the even more rare woodcock.

White-Eyes

By Mary Oliver

In winter 

    all the singing is in 

         the tops of the trees 

             where the wind-bird 

with its white eyes 

    shoves and pushes 

         among the branches. 

             Like any of us 

he wants to go to sleep, 

    but he's restless— 

         he has an idea, 

             and slowly it unfolds 

from under his beating wings 

    as long as he stays awake. 

         But his big, round music, after all, 

             is too breathy to last. 

So, it's over. 

    In the pine-crown 

         he makes his nest, 

             he's done all he can. 

I don't know the name of this bird, 

    I only imagine his glittering beak 

         tucked in a white wing 

             while the clouds— 

which he has summoned 

    from the north— 

         which he has taught 

             to be mild, and silent— 

thicken, and begin to fall 

    into the world below 

         like stars, or the feathers 

               of some unimaginable bird 

that loves us, 

    that is asleep now, and silent— 

         that has turned itself 

             into snow.

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

"Minnesota Nice" fails!

This is not, as I remember, the kind of Minnesota I moved to almost half a century ago. In fact, this is a Minnesota to which I wouldn't consider moving today, if I weren't already here. All of the following articles are from today's Star-Tribune:

• COVID-19 surveys halted in Minnesota amid racism, intimidation  

UPDATE: Eitzen mayor disputes claims COVID-19 testers were confronted by armed man

•  Minnesota downgraded to 'uncontrolled' COVID-19 spread 

•  Charges: Woman assaulted Alpha News journalist during Minneapolis protest 

•  What would Minnesota Republicans do differently than Walz on COVID-19?

The world, including the State of Minnesota, is facing too many critical issues for everyone to not be pulling in the same direction. Not that I expect everyone to agree on what to do, but the difficulties of getting compromises worked out is reminiscent of the stupidity, during the Viet Nam war, of the amount of time and energy expended debating the size, shapes and arrangements of the tables at which peace would be negotiated. Meanwhile, people were killing each other for lack of any sort of consensus. Sort of like the world is currently doing with COVID-19 and climate weirding and loss of biodiversity. Some places and some people are pulling their weight, but not enough of either to make the kind of differences we all need. Perhaps too many think we are like the phoenix and look for enough ashes for us to arise. It's not a wager I'd want to take.

must ashes precede renewal?

Photo by J. Harrington

When They Die We Change Our Minds About Them

Jennifer Michael Hecht

When they die we change our minds 
about them. While they live we see 
the plenty hard they’re trying,
to be a star, or nice, or wise, 
and so we do not quite believe them. 

When they die, suddenly they are 
what they claimed. Turns out, 
that’s what one of those looks like. 

The cold war over manner of manly 
or mission is over. Same person, 
same facts and acts, just now 
a quiet brain stem. We no longer 
begrudge his or her stupid luck.

When they die we change our minds 
about them. I will try to believe 
while you yet breathe.

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

Getting perspective, shifting focus

We learned something new this morning. Perhaps you already know about the air quality images of the Boundary Waters available online. We didn't. If you're interested, here's a screen capture showing the area of coverage. (Use the preceding link to visit the site.)

This is one of the nicest discoveries we've made on social media (Twitter) in quite awhile. For the autumn, it will be interesting to compare, from time to time, the current image with the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources Fall Color Finder. Then, this winter, we can watch for snowfall and, maybe?, Northern Lights?

Once again the ruby-throated hummingbirds seem to have disappeared but, so far this month, every time we thought they were gone, one showed up at one of our feeders with 12 to 18 hours. We'll see what happens this time. [UPDATE: 15 minutes after posting, a hummer arrived at the front feeder.]

hummingbird perched on dead branch

Photo by J. Harrington

Recently, we've been trying to figure out whether, and how much under what circumstances, we should be removing dead branches from our trees and whether we should remove some of the oaks that have clearly died. It is less than a straight-forward exercise in decision making. A lot depends on a lot of other things. Folks who are focused primarily on the health and appearance of trees lean toward removal. Those with more of an ecological systems bent point out all the roles dead branches and trees serve. We are going to spend some time studying permaculture to see if we can establish a framework within which we can assess the pros and cons of different approaches. Our primary objective at the moment is to avoid being guilty of the dictum "when your only tool is a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail." In our case, substitute saw for hammer and dead wood for nail. Plus, to be honest, we've often felt deprived by the lack of design courses in our education. Studying permaculture design may help rectify that deficiency.

Speaking Tree 

Joy Harjo - 1951-

I had a beautiful dream I was dancing with a tree.

                                                                   —Sandra Cisneros

Some things on this earth are unspeakable:
Genealogy of the broken—
A shy wind threading leaves after a massacre,
Or the smell of coffee and no one there—

Some humans say trees are not sentient beings,
But they do not understand poetry—

Nor can they hear the singing of trees when they are fed by
Wind, or water music—
Or hear their cries of anguish when they are broken and bereft—

Now I am a woman longing to be a tree, planted in a moist, dark earth
Between sunrise and sunset—

I cannot walk through all realms—
I carry a yearning I cannot bear alone in the dark—

What shall I do with all this heartache?

The deepest-rooted dream of a tree is to walk
Even just a little ways, from the place next to the doorway—
To the edge of the river of life, and drink—

I have heard trees talking, long after the sun has gone down:

Imagine what would it be like to dance close together
In this land of water and knowledge. . .

To drink deep what is undrinkable.

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

Fingers crossed!

Just before this posting was started, the first batch of artisan sourdough, that includes kernza flour, was mixed by yours truly. "Kernza, whuzzat," you say? Take a look at Perennial Pantry's web site. For a deeper background, check out The Land Institute's page on kernza's commercial development.

We've know about kernza for some time, but hadn't found any local sources of flour, although Birchwood Cafe has been offering a few kernza products for awhile. When we found out about a crowd-funding campaign that offered flour and grain, we signed up. The package arrived a few days ago and today was the first time since its arrival we've anticipated baking some artisan sourdough bread. Recently we've been adding about 10% whole wheat flour to a 50%-50% combination of all-purpose and bread flour, plus water, salt, and home brewed starter. Today we substituted kernza for the whole wheat in the recipe. We'll plan on baking tomorrow or Thursday if the cooler weather arrives on schedule and the dough rises the way it needs to.

recent artisan sourdough boule

Photo by J. Harrington

If all comes together, we'll share some photos and our recipe details. If not, we'll admit "failure" and try a different combination. The folks at Perennial Pantry have an interesting looking Beth Dooley recipe and another piece about how the fineness of the flour grind affects baking. I'm already working on when and how to get more kernza flour so the experiments can continue until we're, or, more accurately, the bread is, successful.

Bread

By Richard Levine

Each night, in a space he’d make 

between waking and purpose, 

my grandfather donned his one 

suit, in our still dark house, and drove 

through Brooklyn’s deserted streets 

following trolley tracks to the bakery.

There he’d change into white 

linen work clothes and cap, 

and in the absence of women, 

his hands were both loving, well 

into dawn and throughout the day— 

kneading, rolling out, shaping

each astonishing moment 

of yeasty predictability 

in that windowless world lit 

by slightly swaying naked bulbs, 

where the shadows staggered, woozy 

with the aromatic warmth of the work.

Then, the suit and drive, again. 

At our table, graced by a loaf 

that steamed when we sliced it, 

softened the butter and leavened 

the very air we’d breathe,

he’d count us blessed.

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

What to do if you can't always get what you want!

Sometime during the past few days, our local roadside asters have come into bloom. Leaf colors are splashing and splotching their way toward peak later in the season. Sumac, maples and aspens are leading the way. At the risk of jinxing us, I'll note that September turning into full-fledged Autumn is about as close to normal as we've come this year.

sky-blue asters at roadside

Photo by J. Harrington

Local farmers are getting organized for harvest season. Hay wagons and other equipment is being hauled over township and county roads. Pumpkins have not yet been sighted at roadside stands but they should arrive over the next couple of weeks. The Better Half has agreed to bake an old-fashioned apple cake with  brown sugar frosting sometime in the near future. Autumnal Equinox is one week from tomorrow. Election day is 50 days from today. Finally, I saw a political sign that pretty well captures my current perspective, plus, it makes some sense in these times. For background, look here.

I'm old enough to remember when the Rolling Stones first released this always, and especially now, timely observation: You Can't Always Get What You Want. We would do well to keep it in mind.

The World We Want Is Us

Alice Walker - 1944-

It moves my heart to see your awakened faces;
the look of "aha!"
shining, finally, in
so many
wide open eyes.
Yes, we are the 99%
all of us
refusing to forget
each other
no matter, in our hunger, what crumbs
are dropped by
the 1%.
The world we want is on the way; Arundhati
and now we
are
hearing her breathing.
That world we want is Us; united; already moving
into it.

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

Are we really trying to control invasive species?

Over  the past few days, the Better Half and  I have been trying to identify a "new" plant with pinkish flowers that's suddenly appeared in the township roadway easement along part of our property. Today we agreed that it appears to be spotted knapweed, an invasive terrestrial plant according to the Department of Natural Resources, a prohibited plant according to the Minnesota Department of Agriculture. It is not until or unless one clicks on the link to the MDA Spotted Knapweed Fact Sheet that the phrase "Spotted knapweed is listed as a Prohibited – Control noxious weed in Minnesota" appears. Now I'm not a lawyer [INAL], but, the consistent use of proper, accurate terms seems significant when looking at Minnesota statutes noted below. There doesn't appear to be any reference to "prohibited weeds" in either 160.23 or 160.232. (Maybe state agencies should be mandated to hire  the revisor's office to edit regulations for consistency.)

State Prohibited Noxious Weeds have two categories: eradicate and control. Spotted knapweed was added to the control list in 2001. [There are separate lists for: Restricted noxious weeds; Specially regulated plants; County noxious weeds; and, Federal terrestrial and parasitic listed noxious weeds.] It might be helpful if someone, someday, added a reference to the "official?" Minnesota Noxious Weed List to appropriate sections of chapter 160.

does this look like spotted knapweed to you?

Photo by J. Harrington

Following MnDNR's recommendation, we duly reported our "discovery" of what we think is knapweed (neither the Better Half nor I are botanists nor invasive species experts) via email to ArrestThePest. It will be interesting to see what, if any, followup occurs.

In the process of trying to sort out who might be responsible for destroying what may be a noxious weed, I checked the Minnesota Statutes. That revealed a potential additional concern since mowing as a control measure for knapweed may be limited or prohibited under 160.232. It's almost as if no one wanted to make it easy to manage roadsides and noxious weeds. Do we have too many entities involved in invasive, noxious plant management as we have way too many entities involved in managing water quality and quantity and uses in Minnesota? (See the Minnesota Water Sustainability Framework.)

160.23 MS 1953 [Repealed, 1957 c 943 s 72]

160.23 DESTRUCTION OF NOXIOUS WEEDS.

Road authorities, including road authorities of cities shall cause all noxious weeds on their respective highways and streets to be cut down or otherwise destroyed or eradicated as often as may be necessary to prevent the ripening or scattering of seed and other propagating parts of such weeds.

History: 1959 c 500 art 1 s 23; 1973 c 123 art 5 s 7 

160.232 MOWING DITCHES OUTSIDE CITIES.

(a) To provide enhanced roadside habitat for nesting birds and other small wildlife, road authorities may not mow or till the right-of-way of a highway located outside of a home rule charter or statutory city except as allowed in this section and section 160.23.
(b) On any highway, the first eight feet away from the road surface, or shoulder if one exists, may be mowed at any time.
(c) An entire right-of-way may be mowed after July 31. From August 31 to the following July 31, the entire right-of-way may only be mowed if necessary for safety reasons, but may not be mowed to a height of less than 12 inches.
(d) A right-of-way may be mowed as necessary to maintain sight distance for safety and may be mowed at other times under rules of the commissioner, or by ordinance of a local road authority not conflicting with the rules of the commissioner.
(e) A right-of-way may be mowed, burned, or tilled to prepare the right-of-way for the establishment of permanent vegetative cover or for prairie vegetation management.
(f) When feasible, road authorities are encouraged to utilize low maintenance, native vegetation that reduces the need to mow, provides wildlife habitat, and maintains public safety.
(g) The commissioner of natural resources shall cooperate with the commissioner of transportation to provide enhanced roadside habitat for nesting birds and other small wildlife.

History: 1985 c 127 s 2; 1986 c 398 art 27 s 1; 1989 c 179 s 1; 1Sp2005 c 1 art 2 s 137

The Lost Colony

By Susan Stewart

They never learned to tell

one bird from another, a shrub

from a weedy sapling, 

or when the season had

forced a flower’s bloom, not 

even if a berry

had ripened into poison.

And yet they drew endless

distinctions between

colors and polish and

coarseness of weave, 

and would not let

their daughters 

marry out.

They didn’t keep

their children, though they

gave them tests and fed 

them. They were known

for meticulous records, for 

trophies and peeling stars.

They burned things up

or wore them down, had ranks

and staff and lecterns, 

machines that moved them

from place to place, bright 

jewels and playing cards.

They were old when they could 

have been young, and young

when they could have been old. 

They left a strange word

in a tree: croatoan,

and a track in the dust of Mars.

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

What's the catch?

Have you read Joseph Heller's Catch-22?  I found it more humorous when it was set in the wartime, military environment of WWII. Since the last millennium it seems to have seeped and oozed into all aspects of contemporary life. This morning we had significant issues with our internet connection. Our isp is noted for having a crappy system and even worse customer service. Catch-22: how to report a service outage when you have no service.

many paths can lead us through an enchanted woods

Photo by J. Harrington

Looking at what's happening with what laughingly passes for governance these days further illustrates the point I'm making. What I wish more folks would remember though is that an antidote to much of the system-inflicted pain many (most?) of us experience is contained within the very Catch-22 system itself.

"Catch-22 says they have a right to do anything we can't stop them from doing."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Yossarian shouted at her in bewildered, furious protest. "How did you know it was Catch-22? Who the hell told you it was Catch-22?"

"The soldiers with the hard white hats and clubs. The girls were crying. 'Did we do anything wrong?' they said. The men said no and pushed them away out the door with the ends of their clubs. 'Then why are you chasing us out?' the girls said. 'Catch 22,' the men said. All they kept saying was 'Catch-22, Catch-22. What does it mean, Catch 22? What is Catch-22?"

"Didn't they show it to you?" Yossarian demanded, stamping about in anger and distress. "Didn't you even make them read it?"

"They don't have to show us Catch-22," the old woman answered. "The law says they don't have to."

"What law says they don't have to?"

"Catch-22".

-- Catch 22 by Joseph Heller.

Did you spot it? The solution? If not, go back to the first paragraph in the quotation. It's up to us to "stop them from doing." That means we need to be vigilant and at least assertive, sometimes even aggressive. Some of that has been going on recently:

• Dakota Access pipeline ordered shut down pending review
• State Sen. Scott Jensen says he's being investigated by the state medical board for COVID-19 comments
• Amy Cooper charged with filing false report after racist confrontation with Black birder in Central Park

If Catch-22 doesn't make it to your Summer reading list, perhaps you can, and definitely should, binge watch what used to be one of my favorite TV series, The X-Files. It too can help you to understand the system "they" want us to continue to support, especially if you remember these quotations:

• Trust no one. 
• The Truth is out there.
• Your own government lies as a matter of course, as a matter of policy…

Too many of us, too much of the time, seem averse to coping with the

truth

By Gwendolyn Brooks

And if sun comes

How shall we greet him?

Shall we not dread him,

Shall we not fear him

After so lengthy a

Session with shade?

Though we have wept for him,

Though we have prayed

All through the night-years—

What if we wake one shimmering morning to

Hear the fierce hammering

Of his firm knuckles

Hard on the door?

Shall we not shudder?—

Shall we not flee

Into the shelter, the dear thick shelter

Of the familiar

Propitious haze?

Sweet is it, sweet is it

To sleep in the coolness

Of snug unawareness.

The dark hangs heavily

Over the eyes.

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

Democracy: at risk of failure?

Please first follow the links and read:

• David Schultz' Was Trump right: Could Minnesota flip in 2020?

• Then this series on Twitter: Blue Wave Democrats better have a coping strategy for November. ["Voting is necessary, but not sufficient."]

• Followed by this series on Twitter from David Roberts. ["The Very Serious People who serve as tone police in DC need to decide what they value more: democracy or civility."]

We don't have a clear exit from the swamp our country is drowning in, we're only learning to read a compass. We do know that we're seeing frightening levels of inconsistencies in the world, country, society we inhabit. The "shining city on the hill" is lost in an unbelievably thick fog. We have truly lost our way as a country, unless we are willing to live in the "United Corporations of America."

endangered: both the symbol and the reality of America

Photo by J. Harrington

Here are some key points of what we believe we do know:

• The conversation has become too shrill.


• We lack the necessary skills to effectively communicate with and compromise with each other.


• We lack leaders who will put the common good above personal and party advantage.


• A constitutional convention is very unlikely to turn out any better for democracy than Citizens' United did.

There are these reasons for hope that we've come across in the past few years:

• Miriam Horn's Rancher, Farmer, Fisherman.


• See how hunters, anglers and outdoor recreationists are trying to come together with energy developers to create responsible energy development.


• Explore The Next System Project.

Neither our economy nor our culture can function, let alone thrive, based on deviousness and untruths. We need to learn that we all have a stake in the outcomes of our political battles. Politics needs to return to some version of the  Marquis of Queensbury rules for politics. The alternatives, as we see them, are living in a totalitarian state or a state of anarchy.

The issues aren't limited to the US. Britain is floundering, from what we've read, with managing Brexit. We've read that foreign interference has exacerbated problems at home and abroad. What Americans, with few exceptions, are willing to live under a puppet government? Let us not make the perfect for some the enemy of the good for all.

For You O Democracy

By Walt Whitman

Come, I will make the continent indissoluble,

I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon, 

I will make divine magnetic lands, 

                   With the love of comrades, 

                      With the life-long love of comrades. 

I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies, 

I will make inseparable cities with their arms about each other’s necks, 

                   By the love of comrades, 

                      By the manly love of comrades. 

For you these from me, O Democracy, to serve you ma femme! 

For you, for you I am trilling these songs.

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