“You need to wear your f—–g mask. My mother is 87, asshole, and you could kill her,” Guy A says to Guy B as I enter the grocery store.
There was a time, not too long ago, when I would have stopped and watched this exchange, stunned, saddened, but like everyone else now, I barely raise my head.
I now live in the emotional flatlands. COVID, the CA fires (now the masks have dual functions), an insane president who will throw a tantrum if he loses the election like the baby he is, all the giant pickup trucks circulating in support of him with their Qanon freak flags flying, too many people in the backcountry, where I always went to get away, and now they’re out there too but it’s too hot to leave the house anyway, even if you head to 10,000 feet elevation, it’s still f-ing hot per the pending planetary death…
When you live in the emotional flatlands, nothing bothers you anymore.
I notice how stylish the masks have gotten. I am not even sure why, but this only further irritates me. I catch myself wondering if I should move on from the standard pleated sky blue surgical mask.
“Look at that one,” I think to myself. “She has a giant lotus over her mouth, and that guy has tiger teeth. She’s a what, a crocodile?” I am not Googling “stylish yet effective masks” when I get home. I am NOT.
Only one things is getting me through, giving me the tiniest of boosts everyday and no it’s not liter bottles of Pinot Grigo. It’s watermelon. It’s my heroin and I have to have it including driving around at 1:00 a.m. looking for a 24-hour grocery store (no luck), so I buy some awful watermelon candy (?) at the 7-11 on the way home.
In the midst of so much insanity, inanity…there is still watermelon. Cool, crisp watermelon that for a second transports me to the memory of what used to be a simple and pure summer day. Call it my meditation, my tiny little escape. I sit on the floor of my smoke filled house and crunch it, the sweetness, the WATER, the dogs on either side of me joining in, relishing the moment (and the watermelon) as much as I. For a few minutes there is no smoke, there are no fires, there is no pandemic, our post office isn’t getting gutted, our President isn’t Donald Trump. It’s me and the dogs hanging out on the living room floor on a hot summer day, listening to Loggins and Messina…Summer Breeze…Sometimes I cry.
I want one of the big seeded ones even if it takes a crane to get it up the stairs and into the refrigerator but oh, wait a minute! Of course, of f-ing course (!!!), the CA Gods of electricity just announced “rolling black-outs” so by the time I get home, like the witch at the end of the Wizard of Oz, everything in my refrigerator may be melting, melting…
Thinking about this, standing over the cardboard bin of beautiful watermelons, I blurt, “God dnmn it. The electricity could be out by the time I get this baby home.” Aside from one guy, all my fellow flatlanders ignore me. “Well, then just eat the whole damn thing,” the guy says, annoyed, lumbering off with his. I don’t even bother to look up to make eye contact (because this is all it is now and anyway, what’s the point?).
Once outside the store, I waddle back to my car carrying my 400 pound watermelon (at least this is how it feels because the air is filled with gritty smoke–of course! After all, it’s summer in California!). It hurts to inhale, even with a mask on. Gently lowering my big ass melon into the passenger seat, I quickly get in the driver’s side and slam the car door. Off comes the mask. Jesus! It’s so hot. I look up and see the woman parked in front of me also rushing to get into her car and like me, she tears her mask off once she’s in. She’s left something in her cart. What is that? A wallet? I hop out and rap on her window. Yeah, she left her wallet in the cart. She gets out, grabs it, and gets the hell back in her car. I head back to mine when I hear a voice behind me. I turn around.
“Oh yeah,” she says lowering the window. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no worries,” is all I can muster as I hurl myself back into my car. This is all any of us can muster now that we’re living in the emotional flatlands.
Since I first posted this, of course things have only gotten worse. There is no incredulity for me as there seems to be for so many people because this is who this man is–a person so vile, so filled with hate, it eeks out from every pore of his body and now, of course, he’s going for our environmental protections, if you even want to call them this because they are filled with holes even as it is. Still, they are protections that have been in place for nearly 50 years. Our narcissistic-ally illustrious President, Precedent, has just gutted the Endangered Species Act. They are going for the National Environmental Policy Act, and of course, our little developer Precedent wants to sell off, “dispose” of as many acres of our Public Lands as he can. This is mayday folks. Mayday. Our hope was the Democrats would provide some kind of checks and balances, but are they?
Please contact your legislators. One email a week. One phone call. It’s not that big a deal to do! Takes ten minutes! Where is your nearest federal public land? Keep an eye on it and by doing so, you serve your country. Democracy, use or lose it. A lot at stake. Please pay attention and thank you.
From the League of Conservation Voters:
We only have a few short weeks left to save our best parks program! Sign today to tell Congress to save the Land and Water Conservation Fund »
Join the fight to save our best and most accessible parks program!
We need to speak out against outrageous funding cuts to our parks and help pass a permanent extension of LWCF through Congress.
TAKE ACTION: (copy and paste/open link) https://ourlandsourvoice.lcv.org/?sc=lcv&utm_source=SilverpopMailing&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=180901%20LWCF%20Joint%20Action%20Message%201%20(1)&utm_content=
Republican leadership is putting our local parks on the chopping block.
Everyday, I’m struck by just how important the Land and Water Conservation Fund (LWCF) is for our communities. From local baseball fields to iconic parks like the Grand Canyon, LWCF has given children safe spaces to play, families open areas to relax, and communities green spaces to thrive.
But anti-environment Republican leadership is moving to gut funding for this critical program and let LWCF expire at the end of this month.
These green spaces are worth fighting for. That’s why we’re joining our partners in Our Lands, Our Voice, a nationwide campaign to stop Congress from letting our nation’s best parks program expire. We’re rallying the nation to protect this program and we can’t do it without your help.
We need you to speak out for our public lands. Sign our petition and tell Congress to permanently reauthorize LWCF with full and dedicated funding »
LWCF has set aside and protected community spaces in nearly every county in the U.S., making it one of the most successful and accessible parks program in America. This program was created more than 50 years ago to safeguard our irreplaceable cultural heritage, protect natural resources, and provide recreational opportunities for all people.
What’s more — reauthorizing LWCF will continue to give access to communities that otherwise do not have contact with the outdoors as it protects existing parks and helps create new green places.
The program is simple: it invests a small portion of revenue from offshore oil and gas drilling to protect and conserve our lands and waters — without spending any taxpayer money. But despite bipartisan support from hundreds members of Congress to reauthorize this program, it’s about to expire.
We need to protect this critical parks program for our neighbors, communities, and future. Every child deserves a chance to enjoy the outdoors and have access to clean, healthy water and air. That’s why we’re working with our partners to build a movement to save LWCF. We CAN save America’s best parks program, but only if we all speak out together. Will you raise your voice today?
We can’t wait on this. Congress needs to hear from you to permanently reauthorize the Land and Water Conservation Fund »
We can’t let this opportunity to protect our best parks program pass us by — please act now to protect LWCF today, Virginia.
Thank you for fighting for our parks.
Associate Digital Campaigns Manager
League of Conservation Voters
740 15th St. NW, 7th Floor
Washington, DC 20005
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A consequence of getting older is experiences inevitably get threaded to memories as Maybelline Emmons learns when she embarks on what she thinks will be a simple road trip to find a tree. She finds something so confounding, painful, yet transformational, none of which she signed on for, her evenings drinking Pinot, watching her hummingbirds…this was as always enough.
This passionate yet comic story revolves around efforts to save an old-growth tree but things go off the rails in a compelling, edge-of-your-seat way. Per Virginia Arthur’s two previous novels, Treed will curl the tendrils of your heart and blow your leaves off.
Saving a tree’s life is saving OUR LIVES!
My anecdote to the insanity of the adult world is to hang out with kids because they’re not crazy, not yet anyway. Crazy is the mark of becoming an adult human primate. Sanity is the mark of being honest and down-to-earth which is what normal kids are. For example, when nine year old Travis tells me I have wrinkles, an accurate observation, my response, wanting to throttle him, is in fact, crazy. See how it works?
So when my girlfriend asked me if I wanted to help with her ten year old daughter’s birthday party, I said sure. Some honest fun. I can take it.
I got stuck in the bounce house. I wanted out. Inside were 20 or so kids I bounced around with and then being somewhat claustrophobic, I wanted the f out. I couldn’t figure out where the flap/door was because every time I went for it, I got bounced back, the kids ganging up on me, not letting me reach it, laughing their little sadistic asses off–look at the adult. Can’t get out of the bounce house.
And this is what it feels like to be in America now with the Trump presidency: you can’t get out of the gd bounce house. As soon as you think SOMETHING is going to happen with the Mueller investigation, it gets bounced back, away from the door, only to bounce closer again…and again and again. I can’t turn on the news anymore. Look at the paper. Is it that our system of justice is in total breakdown? I can’t roll through a stop sign but Trump can base American diplomacy upon whether he cuts a Trump hotel deal with Qater? And nothing happens to him?
I want out of the American bounce house. Please. Somebody. Let me out. Let us all out.
Oh Christmas Tree,
Oh Christmas Tree,
How Lovely Are Thy Branches!
Oh Christmas Tree,
Oh Christmas Tree,
I Wish They’d Leave You On The Ranches!
It Makes No Sense, With Climate Change,
To Hack You Down, Contract Your Range,
You Hold The Carbon Oh So Well,
To Keep Our Planet From Turning Into HELL,
Oh Christmas Tree,
Oh Christmas Tree,
Without You None of Us Can Breathe!
Oh Christmas Tree,
Oh Christmas Tree,
How Lovely Are Thy Branches!
I know I am not the only one who finds it a bit incongruous that in order to celebrate a life coming into the world, say, I don’t know, JESUS, we hack a tree down in his honor. What would Jesus say? (Not to mention that uhm, later he is nailed to one for completely fabricated reasons).
I am also intrigued by the inability of the human species to let go of cultural practices that are, well, harmful, stupid, weird, dumb, especially when they are fairly easy to change.
Here’s an idea–go live for Christmas! (Those of you who already get a live Christmas tree that you plant every year, you can stop reading at this point and thank you. There is also an added bonus in that you are not bringing a dead tree into your house you then expose to heat thereby knowingly creating a phenomenal fire hazard).
You Can Have a Living Tree for Christmas!
Here are a couple options:
Rescue: Rescue a young native tree destined for death or perhaps in a terrible place. It’s more work of course but the tree is free though you may still have to buy some supplies such as a tub and inexpensive potting soil. Rescuing should be done within your bioregion and may require permission. (This is left to your discretion but we’re definitely not talking about poaching trees! This is about rescuing a tree in a hopeless situation. Think about a Charlie Brown Christmas with the difference being he picks out a small living tree that needs some love; after Christmas all the Peanuts kids plant it together and of course, sing). I also strongly recommend buying an eco-friendly rooting hormone, the kind you mix with water (more on this later). In both cases described here, if you live in a mild climate and can plant anytime, it’s best to dig the hole before you bring the tree home so this is done. This will also provide you with native soil. Not sure how big the roots are? You may need to modify the size of the hole but modifying it is far less involved than digging it in a hurry. The hole needs to be as wide as the roots/rootball plus half this size. (If the rootball is 18 inches in diameter, the hole needs to be 27 inches in diameter). Cover the hole with plywood so nothing falls in, including soil.
Dig your tree up carefully to preserve as many of the roots as possible (the smaller the tree, the easier it is to do this). No need to ball it up. You just need to have a tub of some type, be it plastic or steel. Ideally the tub has drain holes but this isn’t totally necessary if you water carefully. Fill the bottom of the tub up with some soil to anchor the tree after you dig it up. Put it in the tub and cover the roots but do not fill the tub with soil yet. If the soil where it is growing looks healthy, fill-up another container with this soil to bring it home. This healthy soil may have needed mycorrhizae/soil symbionts in it that help the tree grow. If the soil it is growing in does not look healthy, you can use the native soil from the hole you dug beforehand and/or, use some inexpensive potting soil.
Don’t completely fill the tub with soil until you get it where you want it in the house because one it’s filled with soil, it gets heavy. Once your tree is where you want it in the house, go ahead and fill the tub with soil leaving about an inch or two from the top for watering. If your tub has holes in it, of course, you want to put a container under it; water until some comes out of the bottom. If your tub does not have drain holes in the bottom, do the stick test every other day–push a stick that is at least eight inches long into the soil and if it comes up damp to dry, water the tree. In either case, you will need to check the tree every other day. Assuming you put lights on the tree, it can dry out very quickly. Misting it every day to every other day helps too. Of course, make sure your lights are not ON when you do this (i.e. use common sense).
Buy a Live Tree (ideally native to your bioregion): if it doesn’t come in a tub or pot already, do not take it out of the rootball. If the tree was prepared properly by the nursery, it has soil around it that is protecting the roots. Put the entire intact rootball in a plastic/stainless steel tub as close to the house as possible then you have some options: you can use native soil ideally from where you intend to plant it, or use inexpensive potting soil. If you are going to plant it right after the holidays, you can use just enough soil to cover the rootball and anchor the tree. You can also use only water. Fill the tub so water covers only about half of the rootball. Don’t suffocate the tree by submerging the root ball completely in water. It’s not an aquatic plant! It needs oxygen too! If you will have to wait a few weeks or months to plant, fill the tub to the top with soil. In all cases, the tree will need watering on a regular basis; check every other day. As mentioned above, misting the tree every day will help keep it hydrated and again, make sure when you mist it, the lights are off (duh?).
And now the fun part…
Your live tree is now in the house. Decorate your live tree, smell its fragrance all throughout the house, a fragrance not of a tree KILLED, a tree that is DYING, but one of memories yet to be made; a fragrance that symbolizes LIFE, the tree’s life, that of your family, your loved ones, your life.
Maybe this is the real Christmas-y part: after the holidays, instead of throwing it out in the yard (with regards to John Prine who may have to change his song, sorry), putting it with the trash, you get to PLANT IT– with or without ceremony. Of course, it depends on your climate. In milder climates, you can plant anytime. For your rescue tree, the sooner you plant it, the better but don’t plant it under severe weather conditions (it could stay below freezing for weeks to come). If you can’t plant it for awhile, make sure the tub is filled nearly to the top with soil, the roots are covered well, the tree is stable, then move it outside into a sheltered location and just wait for milder temperatures/spring. In this way too, you are ‘hardening’ it off, getting it used to its microclimate, even if it is a native tree from your bioregion; it’s still good to harden it off as close to where you are going to plant it as possible. When you plant your rescue tree, pour the proper mix of liquid rooting hormone over the roots before filling the hole with soil and/or you can also soak the tree roots in a bucket of rooting hormone before planting (20 minutes or so prior to planting) then pour the bucket of hormone mix over the roots before filling the hole.
When you plant your purchased live tree, unless the material holding the roots is truly 100% organic, biodegradable, you need to carefully, gently remove it, trying not to disturb the root system at all, then plant the tree immediately. Use of rooting hormone for a purchased live tree is optional.
When I lived in Wyoming, I bought a live white fir (Abies concolor) in a 10-gallon pot. Since it grows in this type of climate, it did fine (again, native trees from your bioregion do much better). After New Year’s Day, I added some more soil to the pot then moved it outside to a sheltered location by the house so it could harden-off. It lived out a fierce winter until April when I planted it. It grew to be a lush, full, beautiful tree.
Your Beautiful Memory Forest
Plant your Christmas trees year after year and your present is a forest of beautiful living trees that keep the memories of each Christmas alive. Regardless of religion or creed, can there be nothing more appropriate than to plant a tree in the memory of a life lived? To plant a tree to mark each season of our lives, and those of our friends and family?
Your Christmas trees will continue to give back in so many ways–by providing food, shelter, and habitat for numerous species of birds and other wildlife. Trees provide a wide array of ecosystem services for all living organisms, including us. (For example, are you breathing?). But perhaps most importantly, the future of our planet may be in the hands, er, trunk, leaves, needles of trees–they hold carbon.
This is an Christmaecological win win.
With all due respect to the season, and I LOVE Christmas-time (sans the commercial contamination), the cutting and killing of millions of trees to ‘celebrate’, well, anything, is a paradigm we need to change–now. You can easily be a part of it. Just imagine all the Christmas-inspired forests that would spring up around the world!
Oh Christmas Tree!
(Originally Published December 20, 2015 @ 19:20). Re-posted.
Note: Since the original post from last year, the program that asked corporations to pay their fair share for use/profit off OUR public lands is dead. Read more at the link: https://www.lwcfcoalition.com/press-releases/
Oh that I wouldn’t have to post this every summer !
I want to thank Dr. Jeff from Goodreads for reminding me, it’s that time of year again!
I have never seen it this bad, then again, there have never been so many people in our back-country as there are now.
TOILET PAPER AND HUMAN WASTE IN AND ON THE SHORES OF OUR CREEKS AND LAKES.
Anyone that urinates/craps in or near water has to be a complete and total moron, right? Because they are knowingly(?) contaminating their own water supply. As an ecology teacher these days, I can tell you many people do not know this! Common sense but you see, it’s not.
As I say to my agency friends (U.S. Forest Service, Fish and Wildlife, State Parks, etc.), if you’re not doing Environmental Education, then what in the hell are you doing? In other words, posting a shit-load of signs does not replace the need for an active environmental education program that INCLUDES telling people not to crap/urinate in the water. I offer up Exhibit A:
HOLY CRAP! Lord but we love our signs! The information board in the photo above is across the street from where I took the T.P.-on-the-creek photo. This information board is next to some very nice bathrooms so the idiots that crapped by the creek are indeed, total idiots, but also, no where on these bastions of government guidance does it say anything about how to care for water when you are in the out of doors–something like, “HEY MORON! DON’T CRAP IN THE WATER! IT CAN MAKE YOU AND OTHER ANIMALS SICK! THANKS!”
In traveling to public lands all over California, I have not seen ONE SIGN that addresses proper treatment of water when one is camping or hiking and I am seeing more of the scene above every where I go. Again, hey Statie, Freddie, IF YOU’RE NOT DOING ENVIRONMENTAL EDUCATION, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? In California, would this not be a great campaign for our Water Boards to take on? Perhaps every bathroom, Porta-Jon, outhouse could be fitted with the near classic, How To Shit in the Woods.
Tying into all this is the need to make sure the Land and Water Conservation Fund gets fully reauthorized and funded. This little pot of money (of course, it’s a little pot because it comes from corporations/corporate fees and of course certain members of our Congress want it to sunset because we can’t possibly make corporations that drill, mine, explore, etc. on our public lands actually PAY/COMPENSATE Americans for the right to do this! Gosh, no! Let them just take all the profits while we clean up the mess with taxpayer dollars! OK!)–anyway, ahem, this teeny tiny pot of money is used exclusively to buy new public lands and/or maintain them, FOR US. This includes putting in bathrooms. Again, it uses no tax payer dollars.
Time is of the essence. Please send an email to your legislators as soon as possible. If you love our Public Lands, you need to do this. You can learn more about this important program at this link or just let Katy explain it. Thanks!
Land and Water Conservation Fund
Listen to Katy
Stay Wild! Fight for the Wild!
Stranger in a strange land is where I live, preferring isolated little corners. I stuff in a beer and a book of poems, oh you poor nostalgic slob not posting to your Facebook page (don’t have one); instead you walk down the more remote roads, with the dogs, if “remote” even applies in California.
I hope everyone has little places they can go to. If you don’t, find one; nobody needs to know where it is but it’s best if it’s a little hard to get to, maybe on the edge of something, with a view out–of your head that is.
I have a lot of these places I can steal away to, thankfully a few miles from my home. One of them is a dirt road that leads to granite outcrops with a view to the east, towards the Sierras. I walk this road with trepidation, not because I am afraid of anything like mountain lions, but because I can tell the owner is going through that inevitable process all new landowners go through–what to do with the land once you own it because you can’t just LEAVE IT ALONE! You have to CUT SOMETHING DOWN, mow, spray, buy a bright red tractor then drive it around on the land for no good reason but to declare to the world that can’t see you, this is MY land. It ALWAYS goes this way, and I always have to brace myself for it because I know once I find a patch of something pretty and wild, forgotten about, it will be destroyed sooner or later. So it goes with the antsy human primate.
I approach the opening of the manzanita that borders the crude new path with a stone of dread in my gut, prepare myself for the grief…last time it was one older ponderosa pine, cut down for absolutely no reason I could tell, left sprawling in pieces all over the ground, like a dismemberment; then a grove of manzanita, also left in heaps, once living browse for deer, cover for their babies, nectar for bees, butterflies, and ants…I try to spy to see what has been done before we get there so I can prepare myself emotionally. I see two more young pines on the ground, again, as far as I can tell, cut for absolutely no reason except for the sheer “fun” of it (?), because he has to do something with that new chainsaw? We walk through and over the carnage. I am relieved to see he has not yet made it to the top of the outcrop where one can see out to the snow-capped Sierras. It’s nothing spectacular (which is why nobody has found it yet); it’s only about 2800 feet up, but for now anyway, it’s ours.
The dogs and I settle down on an outcrop surrounded by wise old manzanita and shrubby oaks. Lupine blooms on the edges and I can smell the native ceanothus but I can’t see it. Towhees “tweet” and retreat. The outcrop is covered in wash from raptors and vultures, particularly from the vultures that soar at eye level whenever I am there. I get up to check out the wildflowers in bloom and within seconds, a riot (literally) of butterflies is in my face, around my body. They’re hill-topping meaning the males are fighting for territory/females on top of this outcrop and I am in the way, annoying them, threatening their very important and essential ritual. Skippers, swallowtails, lady’s, and buckeyes are fighting it out, flying furiously. They land in a sunny spot to open and close their wings, then they’re off again. I am in the way so I go back to my original spot where the dogs are tethered but then a turkey vulture buzzes the top of my head so close, I am sure he/she is going to graze my hair. Another languidly passes over from the other direction. I notice there is a lot more wash than the last time I was here. Maybe they are breeding. I look up and see two more launch from Douglas firs and son of a bitch if the first one doesn’t seem to be coming back around, and lower. I duck just in time. Shit, I say to the dogs. It is becoming obvious we are not particularly wanted up here right now.
We move to a lower spot on the outcrop, a ledge. I finish my beer and take out some peanuts. The dogs settle in next to me but after a few minutes the littlest one, a fearless pom mix, starts to freak out, trying to bite his own belly while the beagle abruptly stands up and snaps at his back. Soon, I am smacking my back and lifting my sock where a red and black ant has just sunk his mandibles into my ankle. I flick him off and notice my backpack is covered with his buddies…the smell of formic acid fills the air around us–the ants be pissed. The dogs plead with their eyes, “Can we please go now?”
I laugh. Antsy human primate indeed! We are definitely not wanted here, and how glorious! I pack up and we head back down the dirt path. Oh to be driven off in this way, from this yet to be destroyed place! They will not go without a fight! How I love them for this. What joy, what perfect justice, what hope! My heart is light.