Grief Waves and Other Healings

I've sat me in front of this screen several times since last I blogged a blog, but just haven't had the will. I've been busy with the nuts and bolts of tidying up. Which isn't true, exactly, but it is a comfortable euphemism.

I have spoken to many people who, due to distance, have slipped past my daily connection. I have sent out Spirit Eagles! I Billy Jacked others. :~) I am overwhelmed with the inside jokes of generations. Of life-long friends. We are none of us alone.

So, I will post a late Bloom Day November, OR an early Bloom Day December. :~)
This will tide me over until I get back from San Diego. With more pictures, more memories.. More Lessons, more Blessings. THAT post will come later.


A mix of colors

a couple of hold-out leaves still decked out in their Fall finery, clinging to that last dance.

A Fall mixed basket with annuals and perennials. I love the yellows mixed with the blues and oranges!

Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.. W.Pooh
The Larch I've been shaping and dandelions.

The Jungle Within

Chinese Sunrise hosta. The leaves are golden-green, a small hosta, rather slender leaves, with fragrant purple flowers. What a sweet little shade blessing!

My little indoor annual fuchsia who will not die. YAY!

Happy little hummer lovers. Magellicana (?) Hardy Fuchsias live up to their name.

What a lovely shrub. I need to try jam next year.

I love this little fellow. Small, floriforus, evergreen, and fragrant. Just make me a happy gardener.

Cape Fuchsia. A hardy soul! This one seems to like the spot I've plopped it... A fortunate mistake on my part.

Angel Wing Begonias. Larger than I expected!

Darn I forgot to get a couple shots of the "annual" allysum which is either reseeded itself *yay* OR what actually SEEMS to be occurring, it doesn't wish to die back yet. The annual that keeps on giving.

Hold tight to one another. We have less time than we bank on.

>^,,^<

Good Bye and Thanks for all the Fish

Sometime Friday, November 14th, 2008, my best friend and husband probably had a Gran Mal seizure while at home (he had left me to live with his Mom in San Diego a year & a half ago) and never came out of it. His brother found him dead in bed around 5 pm. We won't know the exact cause of death for about 90 days. The Investigator told me there was "No obvious signs of cause of death". Meaning, they don't know until more tests are done.

Since we were living in different states, his Family and I are trying to puzzle out the services and the nuts and bolts of death. Death of someone far too young to die. Vincent Jeffrey Mills was only 52 years old. He did not suffer, tho, not if he had a seizure. He never remembered them, never remembered the horrible fear and loss of control. He would just wake up sore, like he'd been someone's punching bag. The very first one, I thought he was playing a joke on me. He flopped over onto his computer desk, and remained unresponsive for a few minutes. When I said "HEY!" and pulled him upright, he looked up at me and smiled that sweet Vince smile. He never knew what hit him.

Vince and I were friends in High School. After we graduated, we started seeing each other. We lived together in Ocean Beach for a year in the late 70's. There was a misunderstanding, and we broke up. Young, and foolish, and both of us stubborn and full of pride. I was unwilling to give up the least bit of my autonomy, he was unwilling to give me the unconditional freedom I needed. But we remained very good friends throughout the years.

Somewhere around the late 80's, or 1990, we hooked up again. We got married in 1997.

Vince taught me a great deal about what it takes to be a good wife. I never was a very good one. I took too much for granted because we'd known each other for so long, I thought I KNEW him. Thought I knew what he wanted. But I made some very foolish assumptions in that regards. Because I was so independant, and because both of our marriages were quite late, (I was 40, he was 41 when we married) once again, I was unwilling to give up my autonomy. I DID try! But it seemed to be a power struggle between us at times. It didn't help that we lived with my Grandmother, as I was her Caregiver. Both Vince and I were with her until she died. It was a GOOD THING! this Caregiving we did. But there is a great deal of pressure on a young couple to take care of a VERY stubborn, independant woman with severe dementia, undiagnosed lung cancer, fragile replaced "bionic" hips, macular degeneration, and pissed off about all that to boot. Vince was "Number One Son", and he was very honorable in that role and responsibility he had given himself.

Right around April 2000, Vince had an on-the-job accident. He was a roofer by trade, and one of the workers had removed a chunk of the plywood right behind him. Roofers work backwards, and Vince stepped through the now-gaping hole, and fell through, catching his arm on the way down. Workman's Comp was seriously negligent with his care. He tore his rotator cuff, and we now believe that he hit his head in the fall. The Workman's Comp doctor said therapy would suffice, so for about 8 months, Vince tried to deal with the pain, and therapy, and still work. Then he damaged it again on-the-job. He was working for a friend of his, and tried to protect this friend from incurring any extra costs, so he did not tell the full truth about the accident. Surgery was next. He had to have the shoulder opened up, debrided, then healed, and then RE-opened up and re-built. He was now unable to ply the trade he loved so much.

There are men who define themselves by their jobs, and Vince was one of these. The inability to work gave him a feeling of uselessness. The inability to make a living pummeled his self-esteem. He had our generation's suspicions and mistrust of the Social Security system, and that system did not disappoint him. He was told that he could be retrained, that Workman's Comp had set up a retraining fund for him. One whole semester's worth of "re-training" for a man who had taken three college classes nearly 35 years ago, with no counselor to speak of. Some woman in an office who was always too busy and would "get back to him" and never did. He tried very hard and did not finish even one of the classes. That system set him up to fail.

Early in 2003, one of my neighbors tossed poison over the fence and killed one of my wolfdogs. Tica was a rescue I had rescued out of harm's way, she was sweet, and she was kind, and she did not deserve to die that way. Then a neighbor (probably the same ratbastadge) sued for noise abatement, a case that my lawyer lost for me, because he filed a "No Contest" Guilty plea without telling me. I decided that we had to, after 32 years in that house, we had to move.

Then in 2003, came the Cedar Fire, which took his sister's house, threatened ours, and was the final straw. I went searching for property. Vince wanted us to move east a couple miles, and stay in San Diego. I wanted to get out, to escape all the development, and stupid city folks who wanted to drag the city kicking and screaming into the country and ram it down the throats of the rural folks who had loved the land so long and well. The developers were mitigating our concerns unto insignificance, and I was just done, stick a fork in me, done.

I drove to Oregon and found this place, this Wolfdancer Creek Farm. Vince had told me that Oregon was "acceptable", but I think it was too far north for him. He helped us move, built my dog Yards, and told me "I'd done good finding this place." He WAS happy here, in a lot of ways, but when the seizures started happening, it was just too much taken away from him. He lost his license, so couldn't drive, and now had to depend on others to get anywhere. Lost any hope of employment, because after all, who wants to hire a builder who might at any given time fall down and seize? Social Security & Disability denied him, and it was just too much. Despite myself and others telling him he had to reapply, they ALWAYS deny you the first (and second) time, it was just too much. This town of population 2600 is not "social" enough for such a social person as Vince was. None of his good friends were here. The town was within walking distance, but it was one WHALE of a "brief stretch of the legs". He missed his Family, missed his friends, missed his Hometown more than he could stand. He started losing his teeth, and losing weight. The depression bagan weighing on him like a murky anvil. He was on Dialantin, and would be for the rest of his life.

In August of 2007, he left me a note on my computer desk saying Good Bye, and took a cab, and an flight back to San Diego to live with his Mom. I was taken completely by surprise. We had a date that coming weekend to see my Pal Jeannie's boyfriend's band, and have dinner and go dancing. I had been actively trying to not jump to conclusions, to not take everything he said negatively, I was trying to be more patient, to give him some attention, to make him feel like he MATTERED to me. I was working hard to not be so busy that I took him for granted. He DID MATTER to me, but as I have said before, I was a lousy wife-type person. That Thanksgiving, he came back to town, unannounced. I helped him get his driver's license back (he had been seizure free for a year). His Mom rented him a U-Haul, and he packed up his kiln, his pottery wheels, as much of the supplies he could find, his surfboard, (the one I designed the logo for, and he built from scratch) a couple of saws and tools, his Dad's projectile point collection and a painted cow skull, some art, a bunch of his tools, and called me from the road to tell me he was leaving again. "Sorry to have to say Good Bye, but.. Good Bye", he said. This time, I knew he was going-- I knew it for positive when I found his surfboard gone--but I sure wished I could have said Good Bye in person.

His brother Jeff told me yesterday that Vince loved me very much, but just couldn't see how we could go forward. He said that seemed to be the case with me, as well.

He was right.

So, Dear Vince. I loved you very much. I will always love you, and I am most honored to have been your friend and your wife. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for being "Number One Son". Thank you for your sense of fun and adventure. Thank you for building my dog yards. Thank you for your patience with my animals. Thank you for your love. Good Bye, and Thanks for All the Fish.
>^,,^<

Details, Details

Yesterday, it was a dark and stormy day, with the wind howling -literally- through the screens and windows, so I spent a bit of time updating my website. Chasing bugs in the code, cleaning up old links, re-coding pages...

You look at wee bitty type written letters which make no grammatical sense, and are written in a foreign language. Until you get dizzy. Help. I've fallen and I can't get up. Then add pictures. /glee.

Today, I am off like a terd of hurdles to do a talk at the Estacada Garden Club. I am nervous! yet excited and very honored. It's on over wintering tender perennials as house plants.

wow! Wish me luck.

>^,,^<

Cleaning Up for Winter

I took a day off from my OTHER jobs, and did a chore that needed doin' before the Big Freeze wanders in: I cleaned out the Greenhouse. Now, I use that term loosely, because it's less a "greenhouse" than it is a "really big cold frame". But it's friendly, and it has helped me survive many tenders who would have languished inside the house, and definitely died outside.

However, there IS the matter of .... slopes. blackberries. naughty weeds. naughty bugs. little room to maneuver. little money for proper shelving. little experience in carpentry. poor design. All of these things can be -- and are-- overcome, but not without their spot o' pint o' blood.

So I whacked the procrastination monster back into his cave, and I started in. I took all the plants that I hadn't had time to put outdoors ALL SEASON LONG (BAD Plant Mom. No biscuits for ME!) and I moved them outside in the rain -which has been steady but balmy all week- watered them well, and I began to get down to it. I pulled and cut all the weeds, I laid down cardboard on top of the insulation to "square up" and steady up the insulation (and further abate the weeds) I made a new shelf (albiet a jury-rigged one, it needs bracings better than an old cat litter tub turned upside down to rest upon.. BUT it will function for this season) I pulled out the heat mat and cleaned it, I organized the implements, and I *gasp* composted the pants who didn't make it. I gave them a decent burial, and thanked them for their help, and I know they will eventually add to the richness and lushness of my Garden. Someday.

Then I brought all wee plants that I got from Little Prince of Oregon a nursery with a PRINCE of a Crew, and absolute ROYALTY of plants at their Open House a few months back. (If you are ever in Oregon, and want to peruse a Nursery of just phenomenal people who grow just phenomenal plants, I invite you to give these folks a call) and settled them in for the Winter.

I haven't had the time (OH I love this economy! Live to work. Live to work) to transplant much of anything, so I wanted to make sure everything was protected. It feels good to be ahead of the game for protection, tho! Last couple years I was scrambling in the dark to get everything under cover.

YAY TEAM! It looks so nice and organized and clean!!!!

>^,,^<

I feel like a Rainbow

Finding Joy

>^,,^<

I Have a Dream

This is MY America
This is YOUR America
This is OUR America.
YES WE CAN. YES WE CAN.
Let us roll up our sleeves and begin the work which is before us. The work of reclaiming the Dream. The work of reclaiming the Love, the Pride, the HOPE.
WE ARE WHO WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR.
America the Beautiful
(lyrics by Katherine Lee Bates;
music composed by Samuel A. Ward --
more history on the poem and music)
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!

America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassion'd stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness.

America! America!
God mend thine ev'ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law.

O beautiful for heroes prov'd
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life.

America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev'ry gain divine.

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears.

America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.
The Dream

Today, for the first time in a long long while, I am truly deeply madly Proud to be an American.


>^,,^<

Vote Vote Vote

Today is Election Day. This is a Right we fought hard for. I found this great research site History of US Elections and of course, the Women's Sufferage Movement

Regardless of HOW you will Vote, regardless of whether I would agree with your choice or not, it is your DUTY as a Free American Citizen to VOTE. Vote informed, Vote your Conscience, and VOTE TODAY.

As to MY Vote, well, I have heard it said that fair weather favors the Democratic Candidate, and foul weather favors the Republican Candidate. I have never been a Fair Weather kind of person, I am in it for the long haul. The blustery cold rainy day will not deter me from casting my Vote for Hope. I am envisioning the 44th President of the United States of America. President Barack Obama.

Bright Blessings on us all, every one. Everything is Light. EVERYTHING.

I Am A Real American

>^,,^<

Gardening with Intent

I managed to take a day all to myself (weeellllllll ....) and I tilled under the garden. I need to start naming these Gardens. This will be The Front Garden. The next one (not yet pick-axed or tilled, or worked, or indeed, cleared) shall be the ... Back Garden. And then there shall be the Hill Garden. So the Front Garden is now --with the exception of the incredibly prolific Sun Gold Tomatoes, which are STILL PRODUCING!!-- planted with a cover crop mix which includes Austrian Field Peas, Crimson Clover, Annual Rye, Vetch, and Buckwheat.

There is sadness in this tilling-under. It indicates an ending. An end to the lush fecundity of Spring. An end to the fruitfulness of Summer, an end to the Harvest of Autumn. And yet, and yet.. There is a Beginning to this tilling-under as well. These spent flowers and fruits and leaves and vines, this compost which has been "cooking" since last year, these pounds of annual, briefly lived cover crops... They are nurturing next year's Bounty. They are fertilizing my Opportunity to feed.

Part of this sadness of course is a direct relationship to the Juggernaut of Holy Daze incoming upon us. I am without Family here, except for the Family which I have created for myself. But they have Families of their own. So I will probably embrace the oncoming Holidays in solitude. This is not a Bad Thing. But there is sadness in it.

I have drawn out a map of the Gardens of 2009. What I wish to plant, and where. Which veggies worked well for me, which need to be rotated out to a new area. I am hoping to begin the Back Garden's pick-axing this month. I might have to forego the Three Sisters plot I so wanted to get in this year. Last year, I crowded them up too much (last year being the first year I tried this method) and it was nigh impossible to harvest everything. I need more space. I HAVE more space, I just need to pick ax a significant area, then cover it with the newspapers I have been saving for months. Then come Spring, I'll need to till it, and add a Unit of Mushroom Compost (OR Garden Blend! a bit more expensive, but it would increase drainage incredibly) If I skip the corn, I can plant my tomatoes there along with their companion plants, Cabbage, Carrots, Onion, Mint, Borage, marigolds, nasturtiums.... (I realize that corn & tomatoes are not normally planted close to one another, but if I plant Companions which repel the pests they are both prone to, there should be no problem in sharing space..)

So, to fight back the sadness which inevitably creeps into the garden of my Heart at this time of year, I will dream of the NEW Garden. I will plant the seeds of Joy and Peace and try to create an environment in which they shall thrive.

>^,,^<

A Collection of "Musings of the Moment"

I always have the feeling that I'm just another human being.
Dalai Lama

One Vast Garden
"I find one vast garden spread out all over the universe. All plants, all human beings, all higher mind bodies are about in this garden in various ways, each has his own uniqueness and beauty. Their presence and variety give me great delight. Every one of you adds with his special feature to the glory of the garden." By: Sri Ananandamayi Ma

The Master said, "It is by the Odes that the mind is aroused." It is by the Rules of Propriety that the character is established. "It is from Music that the finish is received." The Master said, "The people may be made to follow a path of action, but they may not be made to understand it.

- Confucius

The tendinous part of the mind, so to speak, is more developed in winter; the fleshy, in summer. I should say winter had given the bone and sinew to literature, summer the tissues and the blood. ~John Burroughs

My GrandPops used to say: "You can't complain if you don't Vote." We worked hard for the Right to Vote in a Democratic Society. So VOTE!

People often say that, in a democracy, decisions are made by a majority of the people. Of course, that is not true. Decisions are made by a majority of those who make themselves heard and who vote - a very different thing. ~Walter H. Judd

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice. ~Meister Eckhart

My green thumb came only as a result of the mistakes I made while learning to see things from the plant's point of view. ~H. Fred Ale

Everything is Light. EVERYTHING. --Mary Clair Brader

A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time he bites off more than he can chew. ~Herb Caen

Death is at once The end of the body's Old journey And the beginning of the soul's New journey.
Death is not the end. Death can never be the end. Death is the road. Life is the traveller. The soul is the guide.

Chase down your passion like it's the last bus of the night. ~Glade Byron Addams

In music the passions enjoy themselves. ~Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 1886

Passion is universal humanity. Without it religion, history, romance and art would be useless. ~Honoré de Balzac

Every civilization is, among other things, an arrangement for domesticating the passions and setting them to do useful work. ~Aldous Huxley

>^,,^<

Notes to Myself

Must borrow camera and take pictures. The trees are showing off their flashy dresses in rich arrays of golds, crimsons, and oranges. They flick their lacey hems at every passer by. The leaves are disguising themselves for Howl-0-ween as butterflies. Must develope these pictures in my head. Now, how will I upload these? I need that camera!

Have you ever wondered why we follow trails? I wonder if the trail leading from the pond and over the bridge to the back portion of the property was originally made by deer? It certainly wasn't made by the former occupants, I rather suspect they did as little walking as they could get away with... So I have been walking every day on just the OUT side of the trail. Will there be a tracing wandering zig zag around the trail? Will the trail which leads from the front to the back begin to look as developed? How long does it take for human feet to blazon a path? The goats are doing a lovely job of clearing the area, will that help the trail stand out?

Why do our feet naturally follow the beaten path? Why do my feet NOT want to walk on either side of the beaten path? I shall force them to concede. Will it take 2 years? 3? for my off-the-beaten-path Path to be a Path?

And then there are the roads. I must take pictures of the path looking down from Bear & Rhi's Yard to the pond. I musttake pictures of the path leading to the Pet Cemetary. I must take pictures of Surface Rd just over the rise as the mixed forest emerges from the fog of Faraday Lake. I must take pictures of the golden leaf-strewn road heading up to Jim & Betty's beyond George. I must take pictures of their driveway.

As I was driving to their place to finish up the Bonzai'd Juniper, I found myself catching my breath. The light filtering through all those precious metal leaves. A yellow gold so intense it hurts to look at them, aches in my chest. And I thought to myself, "OH MY GOSH!! I have never seen anything quite so lovely since.... Since last year at this time. And for the same reasons."

Blessings!

>^,,^<

More on The New Members of Wolfdancer Creek (LAPCPADPOUB Day! Revisited!)

Thanks to Happy Mouffatard at The Inelegant Gardener for the New Holiday.

The Wee Howloween Kittehs have opened their eyes and put on their exploration mittens. Thought all the Cat Nutters might want to see their sweet ickle faces as they wend their wascally way deep into my SUCKER heart. (Anyone seen that tattoo somewheres?)














>^,,^<

VOTING We Can Change The World

I would never try to change anyone's Vote. Vote For Hope
This video brought tears to my eyes. Brought me to my knees with the Hope I feel for this campaign. Brought me memories of being Young, and Passionate, and full of Hope, and KNOWLEDGE dammit, KNOWING that I COULD CHANGE THE WORLD. This Knowing which has, with age, with time, with disappointment, with the constant battering down of enthusiasm, with the day-to-day surviving, with the Republican obsession with "getting mine now and damn the future", with the Religious Right's intolerance, with.... Negativity, with POLITICS AND POLITICIANS... This KNOWING that I--me personally-- I COULD CHANGE THE WORLD it got trampled. Stifled. Pissed on. Disregarded. Disrespected.

MY America is bigger than that, and Barack Obama believes in me. I MUST believe that, or else.... Belief is Nothing.

ROCK THE VOTE, America!

>^,,^<

Another Day in Paradise

The soft tap tap tap of rain on leaves as it plashes down the bower, a stirring of the air, crisp, damp, foggy breath'd and fecund. Rich with Autumn's grandeur, a paintbox worth of color dappled on turning leaves. One lone small maple leans out towards the light, out from beneath the larger trees which perch over the steep creek bed. A mixed hardwood & softwood jungle, lush and deep with muted plinks and susurruses. Soon to be a blended pallet of yellows, oranges, pinks, purples & reds, with the piney greens as stark contrast to deciduous leavings. Staid companions, these conifers betwixt the broad-leafed majesties. I stand on the bridge taking just a moment before off I go to toil for my daily bread to listen closely to the primeval songs of this place, the music of the mountains, the sonata of the forest. And now, the Song Dogs add their voices to the orchestra, a rich blend of contralto, bass & soprano rising primitive up the scales of our hearts. The night's full moon still lingers in the soft silvered light, caressing the morning, loathe to leave. As I am.

A bit of a whimsy which has adorned the Aldars since we moved here.

Cry Havoc! And release the Goats of War! The Royal Goat Court at work browzing back the blackberries, clearing the feral parts of the land, and fertilizing a potential new garden.

The fernleaf maple (Acer japonicum f. aconitifolium) is in full display. What gorgeous purples and mauves! I love this tree!

These cottonwoods sing to me. Between these and the Sequoias, it sounds like the ocean murmuring along a pebbly beach. I love their fall golds, and their songs are... nurturing to something deep within me. I miss the ocean, miss being close enough to stand at her shores with my naked feet in her waters, but the Cottonwoods soothe that missing.

I caught the light shimmering sweetly on the fall-kissed leaves of the Coral Bark Maples (Acer palmatum 'Sango Kaku') This is another tree I just love, with her winter interest, and her chartreuse tresses.

Another of the Coral Bark, with the Gladstone tree peering behind her shoulder. This was a volunteer from Dianne's old house. We are happy to have the living connection to Happy Rock.

My old bridge. It was poorly made, and I paid too much for it. I will move it this Spring, to in front of the pond, and plant a vine (maybe a clematis!) I'm also going to dredge the canoe out of the pond, plop it also in front of the pond, and use it as a flower bed.

One of the Ancona ducks, our second generation.

Another of the Fernleaf Maple, with the light behind it.

This is a wild maple in the creek. I don't know what kind it is, and I didn't catch it early enough when the sun filters through and just lights it up. But it is a lovely golden spot of brightness within the green of the creek bed.

This morning, it is foggy and drizzly, and everything is silvered. Yesterday was golden. I am surrounded by precious metal lightness! Everything is Light. EVERYTHING.

>^,,^<

Song Dogs

Song Dogs sing the night alive rock the hills, make the mountains weep with your songs. These are my Kidz.


Teeghkii, my Golden Boy. He has decided that couches are good things to sleep on, not snack food.

I gonna love him and squish him, and call him George. No, wait, Mr. America, that's it.

Big smooches. 2008, this summer.

Beau and Tundra. Tundra's making nice, Beau is loving every minute of the attention. A beautiful couple.

America, 2006, catching snowballs. Fetch is one of his favorite games. BUT there's a catch. He doesn't bring 'em back. Naw, Mom. I'LL fetch. YOU carry.

Missy Chance. "Come Here, now! I want pets!"

America in the straw, the turkey. 2006.

Little Rhi, off leash in 2001? Ocean Beach at Dog Beach.

Little Rhi in 2002 looking particularly photogenic.

Mr. BearPaw, 2006. He is now 14 years old. Gruff ol' silly ol' bear, likes to have his butt scratched, hates to ask for it :~)

Spirit the WonderWoof.

Blog Action Day: Poverty in a Small Town

And what am I gonna do about it???
As this is Blog Action Day I am going to attempt to add yet another of my thoughtful-yet-unread posts to my thousands of invisible fans out there in Cyber Space. Since the real reason for this Blog to begin with is as a venue to practice my writing, it's all good. I think this is a great idea, this coming together on Cyber Space, this focus and intent. We are, all of us, focal points of energy, and focused, we CAN affect change. REAL CHANGE.

Now, I am not going to write about politics, nay. I am going to write about Hope. I am going to write about Prayers. I am going to write about desperation and desperate times. I am going to write about fear, and fear-mongering. I am going to rage rage against the fading of the light! I am going to shake my fists at the inhumanity of it all, and most of all, I am going to Vote with my whole conscience, with my whole prayerful soul, with all my hopes and dreams for this Country. My Pops (Great Grandfather, Assistant District Attorney of San Diego County in 1932) used to tell me several things which stuck with me over the years, and one of them was, you can't complain if you're too derned lazy to Vote. Well, since I like to complain, vehemently sometimes, I guess I best Vote. I urge you all, every last one of you invisible Gentle Readers, to Vote your Conscience.

But that is not the focus of this Blog Action Day. This Day is to raise awareness of Poverty, where-ever it raises its' ugly head. In this Country, indeed, in this World, with its' stunning leaps and bounds of technology, with its' incredible improvements of quality of life, there is no place for Poverty. There is simply no room in the Land of Plenty for our Elders to be lonely and hungry and cold. No room for our children to go shoeless, or uneducated, or without health care. NO ROOM for ANY of our citizens to live in desperate fear of getting hurt or sick, because they will lose EVERYTHING everything they ever worked for, dreamed of, all for the lack of minimal proactive health care.

And damn it, what am I gonna do about it? What am I gonna do to affect my One Mile Radius? Well, here's my plan. I plan to spend as much time as I can developing new garden plots here on Wolfdancer Creek. This season, I will develop at least ONE large new garden spot, or start it. I will do a cover crop on the one working garden I have and I will till it before the freeze, in preparation for next year. Next year, I vow to set aside more time to weed, and till, and harvest, and less time in front of the computer & the TV (watching movies on disk or VCR for relaxation, because I don't have "television", I have a TV) and the excess vegetables that I do not can or use, I will donate to the Senior Center. And the excess seeds I cannot use, I will donate (as I have done for the past three years) to the Pre-School, where the Teachers have a Victory Garden for the children.

I have a start on things, I have been putting the goats out to eat the blackberries Good on so many levels. GREAT fodder for the goats, the two new rescue goats are getting fat and shiny, the Nubian Princesses remain healthy, shiny and beautiously plump. Saves a bunch of money on goat feed, opens up otherwise feral land, feeds that land with very nutritious goat droppings and the downed and weed-whacked canes of blackberries which quickly rot unto rich nutritious soil fodder...

Today, I make a vow. I will make my garden grow. I will make a part of Wolfdancer Creek available to those with not-enough. I will share the bounty that I have been given. Although we here are living financially at Poverty Level, struggling with bills, struggling with making ends meet, struggling with day-to-day living, praying that nothing Bad happens, because God forbid, there is just no money to deal with anything except the bare necessities, and the bare necessities do not include things like health insurance, or proactive Vet care, or going out for dinner, or going to the movies, or trash service, or maybe even the internet if I can't get a handle on the backed up bills, but by gummy, the bare necessities DO include food for the critturs, electricity, and food enough for us two-legged critturs.... Good coffee in the morning, good bread to break with good friends....

So as poor as we are, we are Hopeful. Everything is Light. EVERYTHING.

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Thoughts on Understanding & Fear

Chief Seattle's Thoughts
How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us.
If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?
Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man.
The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters; the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony, and man --- all belong to the same family.
So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. The Great Chief sends word he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves. He will be our father and we will be his children.
So, we will consider your offer to buy our land. But it will not be easy. For this land is sacred to us. This shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you the land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.
The rivers are our brothers, they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our canoes, and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember, and teach your children, that the rivers are our brothers and yours, and you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.
We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's grave behind, and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father's grave, and his children's birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert.
I do not know. Our ways are different than your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring or the rustle of the insect's wings. The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around the pond at night? I am a red man and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond and the smell of the wind itself, cleaned by a midday rain, or scented with pinon pine.
The air is precious to the red man for all things share the same breath, the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days he is numb to the stench. But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.
The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred as a place where even the white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers.
So we will consider your offer to buy our land. If we decide to accept, I will make one condition - the white man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers.
I am a savage and do not understand any other way. I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be made more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.
What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man. All things are connected.
You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children that we have taught our children that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.
This we know; the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected.
Even the white man, whose God walks and talks with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We shall see. One thing we know which the white man may one day discover; our God is the same God.
You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land; but you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for the red man and the white. The earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator. The whites too shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.
But in your perishing you will shine brightly fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man.
That destiny is a mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires.
Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone.
The end of living and the beginning of survival.

All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man... the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.

Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.

Man does not weave this web of life. He is merely a strand of it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

Just sharing. It's IMPORTANT. What we understand we cannot fear. We hate what we can fear. THEREFORE, can we hate what we understand?????

>^,,^<

Poverty in the Land of the Free & the Brave – Thoughts about Challenges

My generation has had its’ challenges. There are those of us who have cruised through life with a sense of entitlement; the world owes them a living, damn it, and bring it on! There are those of us who have lived pretty “Chinese Curse Exciting” lives, and we’ll have stories to tell in the rocking chair days, let me tell you! Some of us have been rigid and some of us have been flexible. Some of us are going to make it come hell or high water. Some of us will drown.

I’ll bet many of us think about “someone else” when they think about –IF they think about—poverty. Poor people are “somewhere else”. They can’t be your neighbors, or God forbid, yourself.. I’m just “going through a tough stretch”, just “behind a few years on bills”, “just struggling a little”.

Well, it’s time for me to admit that I’m poor, not struggling. Wolfdancer Creek is in the Poverty Zone. My Grammy would be rolling in her grave, if she had one. My mortgage is going up, PG&E bills are rising, food costs are rising, gas prices are already through the roof, I’ve had to drop my trash service, I’m 2 months behind on the electricity bill, one month behind on the phone & DSL bill, (and considering dropping it, too, but since I decided to choose the Net over television five years ago, I would feel so lost & disconnected without Net access..) one year behind on my property taxes… And forget about Health Insurance, I haven’t had health insurance since the mid 80’s at AT&T. God forbid I break or get sick. I’ve got four more mouths to feed (the new kittens, you know) and still the animals need feeding, need shelter repairs… Wages are stuck in a time warp, employers are scared to death and cutting hours and jobs. I’ve taken on 2 side jobs, and tomorrow I am applying for a part time job at a Doggie Day Care center. In addition to working as close to full-time as I can beg at the Garden Center.

These collections of facts have made me think about what I have done, what I can do, and what I’m going to do. This being An Election Year with several capital letters, we have plans to make. Back-up contingencies to consider. Panics to attack. I have got to make Wolfdancer Creek work. I’m going to expand the gardens. This year, what with produce prices going through the roof, even with the very LIMITED bit of vegetable garden I was able to put in, we ate better. Not MORE, mind you, we actually ate less … but “better”. More healthful. I have to learn to can stuff, so I can put up the bounty for the lean times to come. This year, with the help of my Pal Mr. Lee, I made spaghetti sauce, and Mr. Lee canned it, and we split the resulting pints. Next year, I will harvest more regularly. Next year I make a promise to share the bounty with the Senior Center.

Wolfdancer Creek is going to become more self-sufficient. More renewable. More resourceful. More sustainable. The apple trees should be in better shape next year, and I have NO IDEA what I am going to do with that many apples. Make apple sauce? (& can it?) Make apple cider? Apple Jack? Apple pies to distribute to every single Senior in Estacada? Maybe. Maybe I’ll set out a U Pick sign. Maybe I will trade them for oranges & avocadoes from my Pal Michael-from-Mountains, from his Organic Farm in San Diego County.

So I am poor. I am living on the border of Poverty. And yet, I am rich beyond imaginings! Rich in friends, rich in beauty and wonder, rich in wildlife, rich with opportunities. Rich beyond measure with dirty hands, dog-kissed, cat-licked, goat-sniffed, duck-watching, snow-flakes-falling-on-my-nose-and-eyelashes wealthy.

This election should prove to be .. interesting. Interesting like the Chinese Curse “May You Live in Interesting Times.” “I am asking you to believe. Not just in my ability to bring about real change in Washington, I’m asking you to believe in yours.” I am Voting for Hope. Something I have not experienced politically in a long long while. I wonder if I can sell my lettuce to Sarah Barracuda?

Gardening is alot simpler than politics. Next year, I want to help someone have enough food. Poverty is curable, methinks.



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The AWWWWWW Factor to the Power of Three

Are these not the most sweetest little things? They are so tiny, I can't even sex 'em yet. My last entry (late) for the Let's all post cat pictures etc..(Thanks to Happy Mouffatard at The Inelegant Gardener for the New Holiday.)

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