Monday, October 31, 2011

then and now

when my mother was born the population was here

37 years later when I was born it had only risen by a little less than four hundred million
and since then it has just about tripled

three of the countries with extremely high birth rates--Brazil, China, and India--have all found novel ways to reduce their own meteoric growth;  China has the One Baby law,  India is being reshaped by women who have been taught that sex is necessary but not 'nice' and are passing that along to their daughters;  and in Brazil voluntary sterilization is becoming the norm, almost simultaneously across the country.  A woman has one child and requests a tubal ligation at the same time.  As they put it, " the factory is closed".
We won't live to see the impact, but in 20 or 30 years, if things continue this way, the population growth could very well level out as older, more populous generations die off.

There are all kinds of revolutions, and they often start at the bottom because people want a better life for themselves and their children.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Winter Weather Event

there's a chopping block under all of this--last night it was pretty impressive, like a big white toadstool

early this morning it had grown substantially

the cats insist, however, that they Must Go Out even though they Go Out one door and race for the cat door to come back in again,  Just because they can, I suppose.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

At least the wood is under cover

Sometimes around this neck of the country you get an early snow and then it melts and the memory fades until mid or late November.  We have even had snowless Christmases.  But this year it seems we have turned the corner into winter rather sharply.  Weather elves are nearly peeing with joy over the prospect of a blizzard (or near enough to count as one) tonight,  high winds,  lots and lots of snow.  Some phrases that seem to be embedded in almost every weather report so far:  'major winter weather event",  "a foot or more of snow is expected"  "eastern seaboard" (which means the SnowGod is really furious with all of us) and my favorite,  "maybe 4 to 6 inches".  I'm putting all my money on that last one.

What is interesting is seeing the yellow maple in the yard shedding enough leaves to hide the snow underneath it.

Friday, October 28, 2011

7 billion and counting

Harvey, thank you for this.  It's slightly interactive, and interesting to see where you
are in relation to everyone else. 

yesterday and today

Our local wild turkeys, raiding the garden.  there were at least thirty, and if you  peer around the right side of the picture you can see em

sigh.  so much for October's bright blue skies

Thursday, October 27, 2011

the Drawer of Possibilities

Everybody has at least one,  some of us have several. 

My major Drawer  has a few canning covers and lids, bandaids, an empty small flashlight, two tape measures,  Qtips, toothpicks, stray plastic bags, a baggie full of odd screws and square handcut nails awaiting the right moment when the container that does exist for them finally surfaces.  Way in the back is a marble pastry rolling pin which I have never used and never will but it was a gift, so there it stays; a pair of rubber gloves, and one garden glove waiting to be reuinited with its mate. I havent the heart to tell it its mate fell in the stove and burned up.  There's a badly scratched magnifying glass and two pair of scissors that really need to be put out of their misery.  Milk bottle caps, the top to a salt shaker that will never shake salt again..  several short pieces of dowel and one really nice longer one.  An entire box of crayola crayons, suitable for deja vu.  A deck of playing cards from the days when solitaires were spread out on the kitchen table instead of on the net.  And in the furthest back corner a reluctantly placed container of D-con, because the mice like to use that drawer too, for nesting materials and sometimes for nesting.  Mouse surprises is not the way I like to start the day.

I just realized that if that drawer were to be mysteriously looted one night the only things I might miss would be the crayons, the tape measures and perhaps the bandaids.   Something to think about.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Writing Cycles

Being a writer, and a poet, has its enormous pleasures and perks.  But it also has enormous drawbacks which most of us, as writers, seem to understand as part of the process and part of the privilege.  And when you have a distinct and goofy kind of writing cycle it gets bumpy at times.

Years ago the moderator on a poetry board  posed a question to the people who were in there.  What kind of writing cycle, if any, do you go through?   Everyone who responded got the question immediately.  One man said he wrote for six months at top speed,  and  for the next six months he could barely form full sentences but he used the time for submitting work.  Another said their cycle was on for a year, off for a year.  Someone else said they had one month cycles of writing and not-writing.  Everybody recognized their own creative rhythms and played into them.  My own is a full seventeen year cycle, like the cicada.  I write like mad for about five years, and for the next twelve decelerate until I'm not writing anything at all.

I know when 'it' has happened quite clearly.  I start to sew. Knit. Weave.  The creative process is still there,  but it's been moved into the physical rather than the literary. And the minute I start thinking about sewing something it's time to shift into that other mode.  I hate it,  but  refuse to scurry around doing journals and dailies and forcing a poem out where none existed.  As far as that's concerned, it seems like beating a weary horse because he won't run no mo'.   It's a fallow period.  Time to let the brain recharge.

One thing it does teach me is patience, and trust in my own creative processes.  It will come back, in a year or two.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

thought for the day:

It isnt what you wear, it's how you wear it

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Turkey season

Yesterday on one of the back roads I happened to pass a Jeep that was letting off two hunters.  Neither of them would I have wanted in my kitchen, or even strolling across the yard.  Each had an overunder shotgun, capable of bringing down large marauding moose, and were wearing the old red and black check hunting jackets.  As they started toward the edge of the field one was waving his gun around as he walked, swing swing swing.  They kept looking up into the trees as if they expected the turkeys to be roosting up there in the middle of the day.

In this instance my money is on the turkeys. But just to help things along, as I drove by I  hit the horn, for about 600 yards.  Probably nothing more than a gesture, but any turkey strolling about that field might have the sense to head for cover. 

And if nothing else,  I felt it was my little statement about the way of the world when grown men go after the dangerous wild turkey that has been hand fed by the Fish and Game people...some things just feel good when you do them, empty gesture or not

Monday, October 17, 2011

Of rain and music in the key of F

This is not a good day, or even week, to listen to music in a minor key. And so here I am, listening to David Gray,  "Foundling" which seems to be all composed in minor keys.  Something is growing, something wants to be born.

Maybe that inner drought is over. Apres moi, le deluge. Who knows.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Reunions 'r' soooo not Us

Got our invitation to our upcoming 50th highschool reunion.  We both graduated from the same class, so it's a "we" and "us" kinda deal.  It tells us what fun we had in highschool and how it was the core of our teenage (yes she used that word) years.  Good to know that.  Most of the kids went because if you didnt graduate you didnt go to college.  No one I knew was really happy, but I suppose after 50 years a soft pink mist camouflages most of it, and we remember what it should have been, rather than what it really was.

My dad always said, if the sons of bitches can't come and see me when I'm alive,  they don't need to look at me when I'm dead. Closed coffin, please.

I'm pretty much the same way with reunions. Rarely, in fifty years, have I recieved a personal letter from any of them, nor wanted to send one. The kids who stayed in town took jobs here, and I'd run into one of them now and then. Some are neighbors.   Not sure why I should get all fired up to revisit old classmates most of whom didnt like me much then, nor did I them.  Best to stay home and let them have at it in their own way.
I doubt if we'll be missed, except in hindsight, lol.  Closed coffin, please.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

food rant

There is no such thing as enough bacon
no such thing as too much cheesecake
or battered shrimp or popcorn with enough butter
or white chocolate Lindt truffles
but possibly you can have too much ice cream
(especially if you have the truffles first)