The Wild Cost

Apr5

I continue to follow developments in the disastrous illegal war that the Liar in Chief chose as a multi-purpose ruse to distract from the Epstein files and other corruptions while also enriching himself and his sycophant cronies through weapons investments and market manipulation. The costs are glossed over by the government and complicit legacy media so I’m grateful there are some people keeping track. Twenty hours and twenty minutes into it, as I write this, the US government has spent 42 billion of our tax dollars, and adding $5000 every second on this real-time clock. What a bitter, bitter pill it was to deliver paperwork to my accountant last week.

“168 Pairs of Shoes” video from No Kings Day 3, Paonia, Colorado. 15 minutes

The human cost rises daily as well. It started dramatically with the slaughter of innocents represented above in Virginia Unseld’s moving tribute 168 Pairs of Shoes. Her next installation last Friday at a Methodist church presented the shoes lining the sidewalks to the steps, where they formed the shape of a heart.

photo courtesy of Virginia Unseld

The human cost is grave, the financial cost is staggering, but what about the wild world? Who is talking about the environmental cost? I’ve only noticed one person on my social and news networks making noise about it, environmentalist drag queen Pattie Gonia.

So, I’ll talk about it. It’s taken hours of searching online to learn that there’s a paucity of research on the subject; however, what research there is concurs: War is bad not just for children but for the whole wild world. I also looked into the wildlife of Iran. One of the first hits was an article called “Conservation Policies in Iran: Protecting Biodiversity and Endangered Species” from November 2024.

We savored a long ramble through the woods this Easter Sunday, playing with the infrared Bucktown Pack on my imaginary camera.

It states that Iran’s unique geographical position at the intersection of three major zoogeographical regions—Palaearctic, Oriental, and Ethiopian—contributes to its rich biodiversity. There are many endemic plants and animals, which means they occur nowhere else. “The Caspian Hyrcanian mixed forests are UNESCO World Heritage sites, recognized for their exceptional biological diversity and ancient lineage…. Additionally, Iran is home to many threatened and endangered species, such as the Persian leopard, the Asiatic cheetah, and the Caspian seal. These species are crucial for maintaining ecological balance and health within their respective habitats. However, the rich biodiversity of Iran faces numerous challenges, primarily from habitat loss due to urbanization, agricultural expansion, and industrial development. Climate change exacerbates these issues, affecting water availability and altering habitats, which further threatens the survival of many species.” This article doesn’t mention war, because that wasn’t a factor when it was written.

For pictures of Iran’s endangered species, see this list in Animalia. Many of them are aquatic, including several species each of whales, sea turtles, sharks, rays, shorebirds, and the Indian Ocean humpback dolphin. The list also includes the mammals named above, as well as the Siberian crane, Steppe eagle, Kurdistan newt, Latifi’s viper, and the Persian onegar, a subspecies of Asiatic wild ass endemic to Iran with a population of around 700. A full list of Iran’s 156 endangered species including corals, fishes, insects, and at least one plant, is here.

I did find a few articles that touch on the environmental impacts of war, like this from the US Army War College, and this from The Revelator, but most of them come back to focus on the harm that war does to the environment from a human perspective. All agree, though, that war, particularly bombing, wreak havoc on the wild world as well. From a table in a waste management site, bombs release toxic chemicals into the soil, reducing fertility, harming plant growth, and contaminating groundwater; explosions contaminate water bodies, affecting aquatic ecosystems and drinking water sources; they clear large areas of vegetation, displace soil, destroy habitats, and disrupt ecosystems, leading to biodiversity loss; they generate intense noise, causing stress and injury to wildlife, disrupting animal communication, navigation, migration patterns and food chains. They force animals to flee their habitats, removing or destroying key species. The list goes on.

A Brown University article states that The U.S. Department of Defense is the world’s single largest institutional consumer of oil – and as a result, one of the world’s top greenhouse gas emitters. War is destroying the planet faster than any other single factor in climate collapse. That’s my own claim, but it has an air of truthiness to it.

This article from Action on Armed Violence is one of many that highlight our interdependence with animals. “Though animals may be directly killed or injured by the use of explosive weapons, the impact to their environment appears to typically be the more concerning factor, particularly through habitat loss and human displacement. In Syria, for example, it was recently reported that water buffalo in Hama countryside have been highly impacted by the continued use of explosive violence in the region in recent years. Not only have water buffalo become direct casualties of the bombardment, but much of the land has become unusable, and farmers and their buffalo have been displaced by the shelling…. The total number of water buffalo in the area has decreased by two-thirds compared to the pre-conflict level by 2017.”

It continues, “Landmines and other explosive remnants also have a long history of environmental impact. They have directly killed many animals, including for example elephants in Sri Lanka, snow leopards in Afghanistan, tigers in Cambodia, gazelles in Libya, camels in China, and water buffalo Vietnam. While these have been documented in the past, there is little current research on this issue and the scale of the impact.”

The most comprehensive article I’ve encountered is this Canadian review on the effects of modern war and military activities on biodiversity and the environment, which posits, “Dramatic habitat alteration, environmental pollution, and disturbance contributed to population declines and biodiversity losses arising from both acute and chronic effects in both terrestrial and aquatic systems.” It details devastating effects of aerial assault, naval operations, terrestrial war, nuclear tests, military bases and training, chemical warfare, and more.

Toes-up time under the Ancient One, Wren reclining against my legs.

Among other findings, “The numerous explosive techniques and tools at the disposal of army forces during ground warfare have left a legacy on landscapes across the globe by leaving large craters, shrapnel, and contamination, thus devastating many ecosystems across the biosphere. Landmines applied during active ground warfare have left a lasting legacy on the environment and still remain a major threat to biodiversity, even decades after being deployed.”

After offering a paean to the benefits that military technology has contributed to environmental and conservation science, the article concludes, “…it is evident that warfare’s impacts on ecosystem functioning are indeed overwhelmingly deleterious. The impacts of conflict, nuclear weapons, training operations, and chemical contaminations all contribute to both reductions in the populations of local flora and fauna as well as reducing species diversity in the affected ecosystems. Impacts were demonstrated in a number of environments with a diversity of taxonomic groups represented with war resulting in both acute and chronic impacts on the ecosystem.” It illustrates the impact categories in this figure.

“Creations are numberless, I vow to free them.” This is the first line of the Zen vows that I repeat any time I participate in a Upaya teaching. Just imagine the numberless creations, from spiders to rodents, domestic cats and dogs, chickens, lizards, snakes, common or rare and unique life forms who are getting obliterated with every bomb of every war.

Yesterday I finished reading Against the Machine by Paul Kingsnorth. It was a difficult and challenging read. Though I disagree with some of his assertions, notably those regarding introspection, and those on human sexuality and gender, his thesis that “techno-industrial culture has choked Western civilisation and is destroying the Earth itself” resonates brutally with my observations. “From the First Industrial Revolution to the rise of artificial intelligence, this book shows how the hollowing out of humanity has been a long game—and how our very soul is now at stake.” I will be pondering this book for a long time. Trump’s frivolous war on Iran is a consummate example of Machine culture from every angle at which you examine it.

If you’re still with me, you might want an antidote to this post. If so, check out Jessica Craven’s Extra! Extra! good news post today.

Feral Arugula

Apr4

I’ve been working on a hard post to write, about the costs of war, human, financial, and to the wild world. But I wasn’t able to focus on that today, so instead, by popular demand, I’m sharing some happy eye candy. The first goldfinch of the season and a couple of piñon jays were among Bird Buddy’s captures this past week. It’s time to focus on gardening for birds, with helpful tips from Cornell Lab of Ornithology and also the Audubon Society.

We enjoyed a nice rain shower on Wednesday, which rinsed the dust off the feral heirloom arugula thriving among the flagstones, so I harvested a bowlful.

I’ve been adding it to salads along with the perennial lettuce that’s been creeping toward cutting size since December. How marvelous to be able to gather fresh greens again!

With a big bag of fresh feral arugula in the fridge I’ve been adding it to everything. I made an arugula and green pea frittata with cheddar and mozzarella and topped it with fresh chopped chives from the windowsill pot; and added arugula to a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich the next day.

I woke Thursday morning to a lush green yarden, with the last of the storm clouds crawling east over the mountains, leaving a nice top up of the disastrous snowpack. I knew it would freeze hard that night and didn’t know what would survive, so in the afternoon I cut some tulips, jonquils, forsythia, and the one lilac cluster that was just starting to open, and brought them inside.

The snowfall Thursday night caught me off guard. Wren ran quaking from the bed when we heard heavy rain and a little thunder, but I gathered her in under the covers and held her tight, and very quickly the rain stopped. Or, the sound of the rain stopped, as I realized when I woke disoriented by the view. It took a beat to understand that the rain had quickly turned to snow, and left a welcome couple of inches on the ground. The temperature had also dropped to 20℉ (-6.67℃ for my fortunate international friends). I was glad I’d salvaged some flowers.

By afternoon it had all melted, but the damage was done. There will be no peaches from Mirador this year, few lilacs, and likely no crabapple blossoms at all. I was grateful that I’d cut a few budding twigs, which I arranged in a little Ikebana tray inherited from my mother, so at least I can enjoy a few spectacular pink blooms.

Today, a dear friend reminded me of the joy of Hipstamatic, so I spent a little time diving back into those imaginary films and lenses, and captured this image of the crabapple twigs with my new Impressionist pack. I used a little more of my precious time on this day that will never come again playing with Hipsta outside in the afternoon, but I’ll save those images for another day.

Lessons

Mar31
The wild plum has rained the last of its petals in the winds, and now following the apricot erupts with tender green leaves. But last week, I caught a few lovely pollinators in its fulsome flowers, including many painted ladies…

I remember asking Marion one time, decades ago, with a distinct whine, “Isn’t anything ever not a lesson?” She was older by thirty years and wiser by far, but I don’t recall her response. All I know is that I’ve learned in the interval that every living moment is always a lesson, or can be.

… one gorgeous sphinx moth…

I’m grateful that the Colonel gave me a solid foundation in using tools and the gene to enjoy solving engineering type problems, and the confidence to tackle all kinds of household situations. I’d suspected a propane leak at the tank for a few weeks when I noticed a faint odor as I walked past one day in late fall but I promptly forgot about it. A few weeks later I was home when the tanker driver arrived with the next monthly fill, and asked him to please check for a leak. I watched his bubble solution, and I didn’t see anything either, so we left it at that. But by the end of January I wasn’t convinced, and when a different driver came I mentioned it to him. He did a bubble spray test and confirmed that there was a tiny leak at the very old regulator, and said “I’ll send M to replace that.”

… a single Great Purple Hairstreak, which is almost impossible to catch with open wings…

Last week I started wondering if M had ever come by and meant to call the company to inquire, but once again I forgot. I did not inherit the genes for executive functioning. So yesterday when T returned, I was outside reading in the freakishly mild weather, and went over to greet him. “I see M hasn’t been here yet,” he began, and we chatted for a long time, only partly about the leak. He mentioned that the price per gallon went up, and I said, “That’s what we get with war… and a government in chaos,” which I think I get political action points for saying, and he didn’t respond. He still didn’t think the leak was bad enough to be affecting my bill, “only if you’re baking a lot of cookies every day,” he said… Little does he know.

… and many magnificent Red Admirals.

“Funny you should mention that,” I said, then asked if he’d like a cookie, and he kept chatting, about how he seen a coyote over there one time and too bad he didn’t have his gun then, and from there it devolved into how many coyotes he’s shot through the years, “seven in one day!” he proudly proclaimed; he spoke about cattle camp and losing calves to coyotes, then moved on to speak about a lion no one ever saw who was hunting deer on a particular ridge. All the while, my heart was sinking further, and my lungs were choking on exhaust from the truck, and I was starting to wish I hadn’t offered him one of my last cookies.

“That’s interesting,” I said, “but I can’t breathe the exhaust any longer, so I’m going in to get you a couple cookies, and I’ll be back in a minute.” When I took him the cookies he said he thought he might have enough dope in the truck to replace the regulator right now, and he’d just have to turn off the gas to the house for a little while, and did I have an on-demand hot water heater? No, but I figured if I didn’t use the hot water it should be ok, but really that was a lesson right there, which I keep learning over and over again, which is to ask more questions, don’t assume I know anything about something I know nothing about.

I had just been coming in to make lunch when he arrived, so I went back in to start that. The last of the curried cauliflower cold with mayo, plus an egg and some bacon, yum, I was looking forward to it. The bacon was cooking perfectly until it wasn’t, almost done, but then no flame. Duh. Again with the executive function issue. I knew not to use the hot water and was very careful as I washed my hands after putting the bacon in the pan to use only cold, but I failed to make the obvious connection that I couldn’t use the burner either. I went back out to see how things were going, and to ask if I’d need to do anything with the stove once the propane was back on, and we had another incomplete conversation which reassured me.

This week’s Birthday Cake Challenge started off well!

After he left, the burner lit effortlessly and there seemed to be hot water. Although it did seem a little less hot, but I let myself ignore that symptom, because every time I turned it on to wash my hands or a dish or two it was still hot enough. Surely the boiler couldn’t keep it that hot overnight if it wasn’t fueled. But after a couple hours of yard work this morning, I had to face the truth as I stood under a warm shower gradually cooling. I’ve never had to light that particular pilot, and thankfully it didn’t require getting down on the dirty utility room floor and contorting myself to stick a match inside a small opening whilst pressing and holding the red button. Grateful it was also a piezo starter. It lit right away, and flared up when I turned the dial, and it’s been happy hot water all afternoon.

The batter looked perfect in the pan.

But the other water heater, the one that provides the radiant floor heat, that of course was also out, and that’s the pilot I didn’t want to face, so I just turned it off til fall, grateful that there’s plenty of firewood since it’s going to get cold again for the next week, and grateful in a perverse way for the freakishly mild spring that’s likely to resume after that, and grateful either way for the forecast moisture. I never thought I’d be grateful for Mud Season, but here I am eagerly awaiting it.

Sadly, more lessons were learned after baking…

So many lessons in the last two days! Excellent practice listening to his murderous pride with as little judgment as possible and much more open-heart than I could have before mindfulness, understanding his perspective, feeling kindly toward him, feeling grateful that he fixed the leak. And then letting it all go once it was over, rather than perseverating. But wait, oh, it was after that that I walked in grief the rest of the day. Okay, so but at least I didn’t feel blame or anger or hatred, and I did cultivate compassion and loving kindness, so that’s progress.

… including perseverance!

Some other lessons revolved around the Year of Birthday Cakes Challenge, among them that I really need to practice bake ahead of time for each new cake I try. Today’s epic fail was technically a Technical Challenge rather than a Signature or a Showstopper, as the birthday girl asked for a specific kind of cake. It seemed easy enough: a lemon bundt cake with raspberry filling. And in Bake Off Technicals there’s no tossing a failure into the bin, you have to present something to the judges. So when (after following instructions to the second) I turned the cake out after ten minutes leaving the bottom fifth attached to the bundt pan, it turned into a salvage operation. One lesson was “ten minutes exactly” isn’t enough time to cool a cake in that pan. Maybe it would have held together after another five or ten minutes cooling in the pan. Or, maybe not. Other lessons I’m learning are non-attachment to outcome, and humility.

The final offering, of which I kept half and made her promise not to share it with anyone else. I gave a verbal IOU for a good cake some other time.

Among today’s successes, I count maintaining equanimity, compassion, and good humor; recognizing repeatedly that I am not my thoughts; and creating an absolutely perfect loaf of sourdough.

Making the Best …

Mar31
Despite a trunk full of holes from a small beetle, the crabapple is loaded with buds just starting to open…
Caged tulips and jonquils, to protect them from marauding deer…
Townsendia blooming a week earlier than last year…
Pussytoes surviving …
Maybe it’s because it’s got southern exposure instead of shade, but this Indian paintbrush is blooming almost a month early. Usually a reliable indicator of when the hummingbirds will arrive, paintbrush has historically bloomed here around April 25th.

… of a bad situation. Thich Nhat Hahn said, “The seed of suffering in you may be strong, but don’t wait until you have no more suffering before allowing yourself to be happy.”

After a loving, grieving walk through the dry warm woods, it was time to rest under the apricot tree again. A few buds are left, about a dozen flowers open, and the rest are all moving toward fruiting as tender new leaves emerge. I’m grateful every day that I wake up alive. Grateful for the wild world, for the little pets, for the garden that’s been growing here for thirty years; grateful that water still flows through the hoses to water trees and tulips. Grateful, and grieving, contemplating as I walked through the woods how I’ll one day die, and what will become of this land I love? Peace with Impermanence is the fundamental paradox at the heart of human aspiration. “Sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug.”

No Kings! 3 and Sad Shoes

Mar28

Among the millions of American patriots at thousands of rallies across the country, there were about five hundred of us in Paonia Town Park today.

I arrived early to film the installation of a powerful art piece, ‘168 Pairs of Shoes.’ Local artist Virginia Unseld honored the Iranian schoolgirls slaughtered a month ago by US bombs. Throughout the afternoon, I spoke with people who walked the spiral and came out stunned, shaken, or in tears. (Video link coming soon)

Virginia acquired 168 pairs of little girls’ shoes from regional thrift stores. They cost more than she expected to pay, but when they heard about her project, store managers were generous; and friends also rallied to contribute shoes.

It was Wren’s first time at a public event like this, and I couldn’t get over what a good girl she was! She engaged with the many people who spoke to her, and honored some of them with extra attention. She slipped her collar a few times when I was conversing with someone and she wanted to keep investigating, but came right back with a gentle request when we both noticed. It was a true joy to have her companionship at this event, and she delighted lots of other people too.

There were many of her tribe there and she got along with all of them, even getting a little off-leash play with another rescue dog about her age, Cowboy. And she was happy to see some of her regular human friends there as well.

One of her compatriots had his own sign, which said ‘Crown Clown.’

The tiny red hats weren’t as popular as I’d hoped they would be, but the North Fork Immigrant Protection Team was grateful to have them and raised a little money. I left them with them to sell at the farmers’ market or wherever they can.

The day included inspiring songs and presentations from North Fork Indivisible members, including a singalong with Ellen Stapenhorst to ‘This Land is Your Land,’ and a tribute to our eldest matriarch, 94 year old Mary Smith.

Other protest art included these provocative television pieces by Karen Floyd, and Mary’s popular sign-making table. It brought home the importance of the arts as free speech, and also as a force in our little valley.

At the end of the rally, the crowd ambled past the shoe memorial to march downtown.

Just like last time, I lingered at the park awhile and my escape from town was curtailed when a city cop pulled up to block the road for the march. As I pulled over, grateful for the opportunity to film them, he tried to stop my car, thinking I was trying to drive around him. When I explained I was with the group and thanked him for helping he was all smiles. I thanked him again as I returned to my car. “Of course,” he said. I drove home with my broken heart soaring for a little while, humming This land is your land, this land is my land…, while savoring the sensation of community and the sweet spring air.

Under the Apricot Tree

Mar26

Savoring the sights, sounds, scents of the fruit trees in flagrant bloom this week, I laid a camping pad under the apricot tree on the day the petals all flew off. I was grateful to see a dozen painted ladies, a few bumblebees, some moths, and several other kinds of native bees as well as a few honeybees also enjoying the flowers.

The next day, the wild plum burst into blossom, and the day after that the peach tree buds started to open.

And Biko showed Wren how to enjoy a strawberry.

Saturday is the third No Kings Day national protest against the corrupt, murderous regime in power in the US. If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention. You can find an event near you here. I’ll be joining friends at the Paonia Town Park, and donating my craftivism to the local Immigrant Protection organization. These little red hat badges will be available for a $10 minimum donation to support local families affected by ICE terrors.

Caketastic

Mar24
Lemon curd just before it bubbles and is ready to come off the stove.

I made up the Redemption Cake from a lot of recipes. I’m grateful for the convenience of online recipes and search engines and all the creative cooks and bakers out there sharing their mad skills. Though technology is a trade off, it’s here to stay (at least until it destroys us all), and I use it for good instead of evil.

I started the cake on Saturday afternoon, making the lemon curd filling so it could chill overnight, then making the orange sponge. I set out six eggs earlier to come to room temperature, then separated them. The yolks got whipped til thick, then mixed with orange zest, orange juice, and sugar, then cake flour, which I made by switching out two tablespoons regular flour for two tablespoons corn starch per cup of flour. This creates a lighter flour, necessary since the only leavening is the airy eggs.

Then the whites got whipped with cream of tartar and more sugar til stiff peaks, and then folded into the yolk mixture.

I could have whipped the whites even more, but was overcautious to avoid breaking the meringue, which can happen if you over beat the mixture. But I never used to be afraid of that before watching GBBO and seeing it happen.

The batter is poured into an ungreased pan so it can climb the sides as it rises.

The sponge turned out pretty well, but if I make it again I’ll start the oven when I put the pan in rather than preheating. I’ve read that some cakes do better starting in a cold oven but I had forgotten, and that instruction wasn’t in the recipe. Nor did it say to preheat the oven, it was just habit.

As the cake cooled I made the shortbread and shaped the logs so the cookies would be like tiles the height of the sponge. Those chilled for awhile and I baked them right before bed. Then I tackled the white chocolate mascarpone frosting. It actually whipped up beautifully this time, but it was late and I didn’t want to assemble the cake until Sunday morning so the fillings and frosting didn’t soak into the sponge and make it soggy. I also felt they should be refrigerated overnight, with eggs in the curd and cheese in the frosting.

In the morning I cut the cake into thirds and layered in the fillings, lemon curd in the lower and calamondin jam in the top layer.

I’d taken the frosting out of the fridge a couple of hours earlier. It had set pretty hard and I thought it would soften up and I could spread it. But it didn’t soften enough, so I beat it for just a few seconds and it immediately started to break up just as it had with the caketastrophe. I stopped, and used it as is, grateful that I was already planning to hide it with ganache. At least it didn’t completely fall apart as before, and I was able to cover the cake. I may give up on this frosting. But I do believe that it would have been perfect if I’d spread it as soon as I made it. So maybe I’ll try one more time, when I’ve got the cake ready to frost.

One big culinary success with this particular cake is confident ganache. It couldn’t be easier, just heating heavy cream and pouring it over chocolate, but you do have to be careful not to get the cream too hot, and not to overmix. Timing is everything. But I know now that I can make chocolate ganache, and that opens up a lot of creative possibilities.

Sadly, the ganache had to go on while it was still a little warm, which further melted the white chocolate frosting. I was sure glad I had the shortbreads ready to cover the slippy sides, and they perfectly wedged the cake into the stand. The cover fit perfectly as well, and I was grateful to get a ride to the party so I could hold it carefully the whole way.

It was a beautiful thing to see Philip dancing to his special birthday song, along with a dozen friends, some going back half his eighty year lifetime, some recent, and some like me who’ve known and loved him for twenty years. I explained that he had to cut the first piece for himself, because that’s what I learned: you don’t get your birthday wish if you don’t get the first piece of your cake.

So, it doesn’t look perfect inside, but it looks just fine. And it tasted delicious. I have even more admiration and respect now for those amateur British bakers. No matter whether they create amazing showstoppers or tragic technicals, they do it in an hour or two or four, clock ticking, people talking at them the whole time, under tremendous pressure. I’m glad I set myself this challenge, and glad that Wren’s my only kitchen companion. I look forward to the next birthday cake next week!

Wren stole Biko’s strawberry but she wasn’t sure she liked it.

Good Tired

Mar22

The Redemption cake came to fruition and was thoroughly appreciated at a dear friend’s 80th birthday brunch today.

After hours outside with a convivial crowd I was dehydrated and exhausted. Back home I napped, then sat under the apricot tree for a long time appreciating the dozens of pollinators all over it: butterflies, moths, bumblebees, digger bees, sweat bees… I was too tired to do more than soak it in. I’m grateful for good tired, and optimistic that I’ll share more about both the cake and the tree soon.

More Treetops

Mar20

The little mustard I noticed the other day was identified by a friend as Boechera gunnisoniana, a vulnerable, rare rockcress endemic to Colorado with most specimens known from Gunnison County just east of here. I’m sure I’ve seen it before, but it didn’t catch my attention until it surprised me blooming so early. I found several more on our walk yesterday.

Neighbor Fred came yesterday to prune our apricot tree. In just the couple of days since the first buds opened, many more had popped. I’m so grateful to and for this wonderful neighbor with so much experience in entomology and in growing fruit trees.

Above, even more buds had bloomed after he pruned. Today (below) virtually every blossom had opened and honeybees were buzzing.

Yesterday, above; and today, below.

And the forsythia surprised me again, glowing golden through the mudroom window late yesterday. It had been a couple of days since I’d been on that side of the house and I swear they weren’t blooming then. This sudden warming brought out everyone.

I managed to save some of the red tulips with a cage in the nick of time, though the smaller patch to the right had already been nibbled by deer before I covered them. The roller coaster is picking up speed early this year.

I gave a friend some maple cream for her birthday, and she said the first thing she did was pour some over vanilla ice cream. So I tried that after lunch today. Yum!

Biko stayed out in his round pen overnight for the first time this year, and it got so warm that he begged to be released, so he had the run of the yard for most of the day. So much tasty green grass! Wren can’t get enough of it either. He tucked in by a tree trunk right after we found him about 5:30, but when we came inside an hour later he had moved somewhere else. We didn’t even bother looking, knowing it will be plenty warm overnight and he’ll wake up happy wherever he chooses to sleep.

Treetops

Mar18

I’ve been reading the amazing new book from Paul Kingsnorth, Against the Machine: On the Unmaking of Humanity, and I’m grateful for his historical and philosophical synthesis of the times we find ourselves in. It’s grueling, but he articulates so thoroughly what I have believed in my bones to be true since I was a child. But enough about humanity’s ineluctable drive toward mechanization at the cost of Nature, we see it in every facet of our lives, including this blog that I’m writing and you are reading on machines that embody so much more than the simple convenience of a keyboard, a digital camera, and the internet. We needn’t dwell on it in this moment.

I’m grateful for the gift of calamondin jam that surprised me in the mail the other day, out of the blue, from an old school friend and reader of Morning Rounds. It represents the good in this world: homegrown fruit cooked and canned, and one person thinking of another with generosity. She read about my quest to bake birthday cakes, and thought I might like to include something a little different in one. Of course I had to taste it, and it was Florida sunshine on toast. Next cake, here it comes! And the next cake is coming soon.

In contrast to The Machine that grinds up nature and humanity in its conquest of the world through concentration of power and worship of wealth, treetops have captured my attention this week. Pinyon jays have been spinning the Bird Buddy feeder around on its pole with their enthusiastic feeding, and I caught a group of them in a treetop the other day on our walk. One seems to have fluff in its bill, hopefully an indication of nest building.

Between working, walking, and baking cakes, I tried out this recipe for big fat chewy chocolate chip cookies, and they are fantastic.

Joanna Macy said “Hope is a verb,” and so I continue to hope to do all that I can to contribute to the remaking of the world as Western Civilization collapses. Some of those things include vigilant introspection to see myself clearly and live in alignment with my values, which by the way are not the values of The Machine; sharing in various ways the mindfulness skills that I rely on to ground me in a meaningful life and bolster resilience; and supporting the wild world through the ways I protect and tend the land in my care. I’m so grateful to have brought the birds back to my yarden after a decade, now that I’ve minimized the domestic cat threat. Evening grosbeaks are back at the feeder, and filling the aspen tree.

In cheese sandwich news, there continue to be many delicious options. Last week I pickled red onions and am putting them on everything including this simple cheddar, lettuce, and mayo sandwich.
Despite a few freezing cold days and nights, the weather was warm enough last week to enjoy time at the pond, including polishing off the last of the ice cream.

But the weather is too nice. This morning I discovered that the apricot blossoms are already opening. I spent a few hours in the yarden, installing a couple of bluebird nest boxes to give them options, and watering. I gave the apricot her first water of the season, and took some time to sit beneath her boughs and appreciate her. Those buds are really swelling, I thought and then I looked more closely. First I saw a few white tips on some buds, and then saw a few just breaking open. Earliest ever, I think.

Today’s cheese sandwich included tuna salad with parsley and celery, pickled red onions, and havarti. So simple, so delicious.

After lunch and a few hours desk work, I took the little animals on a leisurely ramble through the woods, remembering to look up. We rambled northwest from the house, a spontaneous and unusual direction, and then back toward the forest center. We saw treetops reaching for the clouds, and a surprising number of treetops toppled over.

Coming up a slope from an unfamiliar direction I spied an oddly glowing trunk, and when we got close I was mystified to see this young pinyon pine stripped bare, all its bark in chips at the base, its top recently deceased. Curious. And then we found ourselves near the Triangle Tree, where I paused to lean back into its curved embrace and look out toward the mountains for awhile, resting, calmly abiding, breathing.

From there we rambled back to a familiar bench, where we rested again, and noticed these tiny wildflowers in bloom, I’m thinking weeks or even months early… But then, I found flowers even in midwinter in some parts of the woods.

Back home it was happy hour time, so I took a mocktail and a bowl of poison fish down to sit in the golden light and read some more about the cyclical history of the Machine. What a juxtaposition. This week in telesangha we’re exploring paradoxes; in particular, a paradox that has come up synchronistically a couple of times in recent days: navigating the wisdom of accepting conditions exactly as they are, allowing oneself to be just as one is, and at the same time aspiring to refine or grow oneself and improve conditions in the world. Chewing on this book at the same time will add an interesting influence in this exploration.

As the sun goldly lowered I glanced up to see a pair of bluebirds atop the aspen tree. More synchronicity. I hope they find a nest site they like for this summer, in one of the boxes I put up this morning, or back in the hole in the side of my house.

I’m grateful that Topaz has learned in recent years not to hunt birds.
Wren jumped right into her job of finding Biko as soon as I started putting him out in his round pen. Tonight just before sunset she raced right to his gate and loudly announced his location. Life’s simple pleasures.