Living in the Hinterland

Snow Crash

2008-11-07T02:58:06Z

Abruptness, an about face, directions which have been forced now evidence some potential to relax. In several theatres, the characters I have known have seen a dynamic change, and with limited participation. Required breath is mostly spontaneous, but in fatigue, the mind numbs to a stop. Age and reason, both remind that futures have time to meld into reality. Where will that ball roll next, why must it always snow?

Migrated Away

2008-06-15T17:37:58Z

On April 3, 1974 a severe tornado struck Brandenburg, I was approaching 13 years old at the time and growing up in nearby Louisville, KY.

When I arrived in Brandenburg with a small group of volunteers I was struck by the systematic approach to provide aid and supply to those who suffered damage, loss of home, life. The National Guard had erected tents which were filled with clothes and other essentials. They secured areas from looting, managed road and regional access, and assisted wherever graciously. I still remember eating the rather tasty hamburgers, potato salad and beans in the temporary mess hall they erected.

These citizen soldiers were a clear icon of relief for the devastated community, responding quickly to natural catastrophes, and with pride and patience, as they were asked to leave jobs and family on little notice, despite the professional soldier was in 1974 converging on their tours of duty in Vietnam.

Wikpedia Source

At 13, it was the closest I'd of gotten to a soldier in action and was stimulated to believe in the cause of the country, and the good will of humankind. It is that insistence to help your failing neighbor that forms a glue that propels us socially.

We've seen tornadoes skip through the Red River Valley recently, prompting my recollection of the April 1974 low pressure maelstrom that reached widely that year [NOAA]. Anyone whose been close or in a tornado knows the gut wrenching self-awareness and concern that festers just before it strikes.

As with the recent Hugo, MN tornado, and that in Northwood, ND, a large reception of volunteers were quickly realized to aid in the catastrophes, in fact, many were encouraged to register when those who had not were denied their heart-felt intent to assist.

However, the RRV is a flood-prone area, and many of us know first hand of the powerful nature of the raging Red. We've seen friends, college students, neighbors regularly come together to assist neighbors they'd never known previously, sometimes laughing while they work on bag lines, and battling together because of that shared social glue. And the Guard was available to help, thank you! but as Cedar Falls, IA was inundated with water, I am struck that their direct role is not realized, as to suggest absent?

This writing then is to ask, where is the citizen solider today, as much of our nation is consumed this spring by severe weather, and I seek any input to suggest otherwise that our National Guard is not as available to help directly with the local wars caused by mother nature?

Night Vision

2008-06-04T01:02:36Z

The night sky lingers in June in a so notable way. The same birds which feed before the 5 am dawn have maintained a pattern until the nearly 10 pm dusk. Their patterns dictated by the light, socialization, feeding, protectiveness, and ownership. When illuminated truth prevails, and in the dark, dormancy and secret. A roaming pileated woodpecker seems to run solo, but likely is mated, gathering, and dutiful. It has purpose to contribute to its own; partners which rely on each to continue, selection, self-will to remain. Will that linger as the long summer sun, or with the ripples of the seasons, ebb and flow?

Improbability

2008-05-20T22:37:39Z

Animals run, turkeys float, the sky's blueness remains, the grass so very green, and heaven is where I stare out upon each morning as I wake - yet, some have this belief that living in obscurity is possible, as have I, and the birds with yellow bodies have visited, as have the hummingbirds, when we both said, hummm, maybe a basket for them, as we agreed... balance, resonance, she knows not what I know, and lives a purported lie, maintaining innocence, or at least unvolunteering the truth, yet each day is slowed as molasses strives to drop under gravity, oh so slow, and my heart is wrenched with her nature.

Slow Melt

2008-03-16T22:57:18Z

Crisp sun shines through the living room windows, dogs laze with their black coats absorbing the days gift, an earlier walk evidenced a seemingly healthy greenish brine on the top edge of the dike, stone pavers heating proximities doing the same, at thiry four degrees water flow in the guttering is brisk and resounding as the roof-top snow vaporizes into the March sky, and most notably, slowly, a key to confidence that the first weeks of April will be uneventful, and the Red will remain sober for yet another year.

What makes cold warm?

2008-03-05T04:52:47Z

What makes the cold warm?
As bitter cold air surrounds, scraping deeper w/ exposure (time).
Mobility becomes compromised with thick pile layerings, and dormancy is sequestered.

What makes cold warm?
Crisis or tragedy fixes a vantage where less extreme is preferred, at least when longevity is desireable.

What makes cold warm?
Hope? But only ephemerally unless manifested.
Poignant action (motion) towards a preferably holistic and lasting solution?
But will we then ask, what makes warm cold?
For some, comfort is preserved in normality, while others w/ extremes.
Yet all systems inevitably find a balance point away from their once stochastic extremes.

What makes cold warm?
Energy

Implicitly: your own comfort zone is decided by the resources earned and the environment evolved from either work by you or others before you, and possibly serendipity.

-originally February 22, 2008 near 9 am en route to St. Paul

On One Leg

2007-12-15T16:09:11Z

Slowly waddling through the deep snow were the river oaks turkeys. The white powder became trampled, now by turkeys, where the sunflower hulls were sprinkled under the suspended green and yellow seed basket, at least a virtual invitation to feed and roost. As I approached each retreated.

The next day, flying in from across the river, the rather rotund bodies flap to the ground, ambling up the hill to review the food situation to discover the gray squirrels' remnants from my attempt the previous day. Quickly these birds inhale any morsels of ground covering and as we watched from the living-room window. I donned my polar boots and jacket, scarf, gloves and cap, to offer more.

Their skepticism prompted retreat as I approached, but curiously they remained within eye shot. I splash seed again onto the trampled white and do some retreating of my own. They consume, then relish in the bright blue-skied sun that heats their dark thick feathers. Their water supply is the fine white powder they ingest as each flake is a kernel of moisture.

Bitter cold has a regular hokey pokey like action as one claw balances the rotundness, while the other is tucked high into the warmer feathery bush. Two of the five elect to perch four feet higher on the porch railing. It would seem that both our cats and dogs have grown accustomed to these big birds.

Paul the Woodpecker

2007-11-25T02:19:59Z

I am watching the ice start its dance on the river's surface marking the inevitable demise of moderate temperatures. I worry that as many as 90 days could pass without temperatures above zero (Fahrenheit) which requires attention to infrastructure. Fortunately many of the birds will remain for the duration, in particular Paul, who chips and chops daily, enjoying the regular suet that he has grown accustomed. Meanwhile, migration south continues.

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Long Shadows

2007-10-29T20:17:25Z

The setting sun swims south, no longer obscured by the now leafless trees to the north, the shadows grow taller. Both domestic and wild animals seem relaxed with the long slow migration to winter cold. Blue blue sky, water clarity and leaves scatter the landscape, the rump of a red squirrel protrudes up from her burrow stash of nuts just over the wood pile located our of reach from the typical spring thaw that is inevitable.

Patches of Sun

2007-10-07T02:10:38Z

Wild turkeys are grown and feed from my hand, the riverfront groomed despite several large falls, protection to 38.4 feet, rye-blue spread well, more work, patio, sauna, clay. Pontoon on Bay, heat is good, everyday.

High Waters

2007-06-07T20:11:56Z

Wind blows, ducks paddle, fish swim, birds fly, and water flows while I monitor the red's rise to beyond 30 feet, just 8 short of my designed protection. Cool temperatures keep us dormant as does afternoon fatigue which finally is tapering from a recent return from Beijing.

Woody Returns

2007-03-26T17:36:53Z

Water began rising last week on the Red River of the North from alongside the banks where its thick icy crust remained fixed, but thawing under atypical temperatures. Yesterday morning we rose to the marriage of temperature with dew point providing an element of mystery and wonderment on how after several heated days the ice remained.

Near ten in the morning, water rising against an nearby upstream dam/falls no doubt contributed to the massive laminar sheets release. Reflecting its power from the solid motion, the sun continued to bake the morning fog. The noise, pops, crashes upon the undulating banks and water soaked trees were fantastic. Any small diameter trees were heard severing by the low velocity high momentum blows.

The motion remained cyclical for twenty four hours. The splintered logs and winter refuse skirted underneath when blocked. With time the river's span was no longer bridged by ice. Random episodes would prompt yet another jam but ephemerally. Four hundred square foot bergs would catch a corner on a flooded tree base issuing an abrupt stop, an audible stress, and followed by a flow rotation sending it again into the mainstream. Throughout the event, I remained curious on the state of the downstream northern frozen-ness of the river.

Canadian geese honked from high altitudes above, birds and bushy tailed tree rats continued to forage without any noticeable respect, this first major sign of non-winter. In returning towards the house after my river's edge inspection I hiked up the hill and was surprised to discover another sign the need to coexist with nature, the return of my nemesis, woody.

Lunar Eclipse

2007-03-04T00:30:31Z

A brazen orange sky retreats to a western glow, while in Rome, a lunar eclipse wanes from totality.

Changing Landscape

2007-02-12T19:55:20Z

Much of the winter lays behind, only limited shake from above has deprived us of an opportunity to exercise, both on skis and in my driveway pushing the white pile. I find polar cold to be an intriguing challenge when she first arrives. Temperatures near 30 below can serve dysfunction to the automobile, particular a specific German brand. While in NY, tens of feet of snow weigh down on roof-tops, we in Moorhead simply wonder if a bit more base would allow us to exercise our waxing hand.

Chronically I continue my bird metaphor commenting on the lack of "lemon birds" this year. Before the winter set in, we filled the hole with nearly 500 cubic yards of clay, allowing a much reduced reach to the feeding tubes. I wonder if somehow the changed landscape has my finch friends onto another feeding platform. For now, the woodpeckers continue to entertain while the greys and the reds seem to only annoy (but not completely).

Flight of the China Moon

2006-10-30T17:51:31Z

Seeking food, comfort, recognition, solitude, and for reasons which are inherent.

Do I speak of American citizens? Russian or Chinese? Pileated, Downy, or any of the wide asunder of wild finches?

For humans, multi-decade-al bands represent the average span of function, with five being the norm.

The flight of the emotional-less shanghai pedaling has prompted a new recognition of intonation, challenge, and balance.