February in Cave Junction

Here in the rain forest, today is a good day to have a 30 year roof . Cozy in my perch, food in the refrigerator, dry firewood stockpiled, eight dollars cash and the bills paid, I remember not long ago how hard life was in the pursuit of the little comfort I enjoy today. Today the wind picks up every so often and the skies darken, a hard rain follows until the wind again picks up and the skies lighten, The rain then becomes a sprinkle until the next dark minute\hour\day of hard rain.
I'm rooting for the dark clouds. Even though the water is turning my lower driveway into a river and the upper switch-back into an obstacle course of muddy ruts, I love the coziness of the shack when its raining. The hell with the driveway, I don't have to go anywhere. When I do I'll waddle down the road with muddy, unbalanced tires until I can get to the car wash. Mud is still part of the deal here. Maybe this year I can get some rock and road done. Maybe.
Ain't that the way it is: Used to be I didn't mind running around with muddy tires and rims, I was mountain man-in' it, but enjoy a little success over and above warm, dry and fed, and like all fools I want some bling,.....can't be running around town with muddy rims on my new jeep ( with only 154,000 thousand miles on it). I can hardly stand to let the dog go everywhere with me now; Leather interior.
Speaking of living high on the hog, a good friend of mine switched shirt sizes and gave me upwards of twenty something of his old shirts. Most better than all but my best, so now I look better everywhere I go. His shirts never looked so good either. I hope he has to switch slack sizes soon . Is that gratitude or what? Thanks Gman. Every time I go off the property and look half way presentable I'm truly grateful. I wish I could bring myself to spend the money on some new shoes.
Oh well, it's February in C.J. and it's wet. In town the Chevron is slow. Tourism is light this time of year and at twenty five cents a gallon more than the Chevron in Grants Pass, smart travelers drive by with full tanks. Still the station is doing some business, and as always the attendants have biscuits for the dog. Here in Oregon it's illegal to pump your own gas, so there are always attendants and they most of the time have biscuits. Tells you something about how many people in southern Oregon drive around with their dogs.
Watching the news today, I see they want to add a suicide prevention net on the Golden Gate at a mere cost of fifty million dollars. What I want to know, besides whether or not these people are nuts, is this; After a suicidal person jumps and hits the net (really a chain link barrier as it is described) what keeps them from crawling to the edge and jumping again?????????? So they throw themselves in front of BART instead. It's no wonder the place is bankrupt.
More and more, Obama looks like a one term disaster. It was fun while it lasted but the bill for this president is becoming horrendous . The scary part is: Creditors want to get paid for the balloon even though the air is gone and the collapse is on. The ugly truth: The race downhill is picking up steam. Throwing false economy in front of the ball in the form of "stimulus money" is like adding fuel to a fire to stop it. Get ready to bite the bullet; In my uneducated , occasionally newsclip informed, save yourself the world don't wanna be saved world, it still looks like America needs to severely rein herself in.
And our elected officials need to be voted out. Every one of them. All that money for war while the country falls apart. C'mon man.

"You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it." Adrian Rogers

Blue Jays

The stray cat is quickly becoming my partner cat. Grey, with an extra heavy coat, and big light green eyes, one can look at him and see he is not tame. Except when he lets me scratch his ears. Or at feeding time. Which for him, like the dog, seems to be every time I pass by. The Cat still sleeps outside, and isn't friendly with other people or Shep, but he doesn't bother to get up from my motorcycle seat when I drive up now either. Friends.
The blue jays recognize my whistle . When they hear my special screech the trees in front of the shack become a waiting ground for hungry birds. I like to throw a couple of pieces of broken bread down for them, then go behind the long mirrored window in the Octoberfest room to watch the show. After that it's on.
The Bluejays come in cautiously at first, swooping down from the oak trees, to the shoulders of the wooden people in front of the shack, to the ground and sour dough love. Once the first, and bravest birds, successfully grab bread and fly, the rout is on and birds approach from everywhere. Free Bread Birdie!
Winter. I have other things to do then talk to the animals. Returned from down south last Thursday. When I arrived the cabin looked like a Swiss chalet. The windows were frosted, resembling store window decorations, but the ice was real. Uh-oh. The five days I was gone temperatures were well below freezing. The plastic plumbing in the house froze. All the pipe split. The Toilet froze and exploded. The faucet on the kitchen sink broke. Five days of plumbing later I'm still trouble shooting leaks and replacing pipe. I don't know if the water heater has to be replaced. I may have a shower tonight, it may not be an option.

No water damage luckily, the pipes are exposed on the inside walls and everything was frozen solid.... I just swept up the ice and turned the main off before I lit the fire. Next time I leave in winter I'll take precautionary measures. The crisis gave me something to do anyway. Good training my brother said. Life is wonderful, Every miserable moment.

Happy Holidays

When Grey Consumes All

.............and leaves paint their seasonal masterpiece daily until Winter when grey consumes all. ( Shorter days 30AUG09)

The leaves have all hit the ground. In the end their bright colors desert them and they fall in the rain brown like the earth from which they grew. The grey of winter takes over Happy Camp road this time of year. No longer passable through the mountains and into California, traffic consists of visitors to the snow park eleven miles up the road whom return in grey cars covered with road spray, and my few neighbors.
Grey clouds cover the sky. The Sun don't shine, the birds don't fly. Blue is not a color now but an emotion.
Fog obliterates the view until only the closest trees stand distinct in their grey outlines. The surrounding ridges, furthest first, nearest last, have been swallowed .
On the north side of the ridge, at Bradland, direct sunlight will only reach the cabin for three hours a day, from Mid-November to Mid-February. The Grey of the shade.
Soon, grey snow will creep down from the higher altitudes to make it's seasonal two week appearance , and then retreat with the winter solstice and longer days. Winter's grey will be most dominant then; Colorless, Cabin fevered, lonely, secluded, Greeeeeey. Soon, but not now , Now it's Thanksgiving and time to be grateful for another year and rewards reaped with it.
I'm grateful the truck still runs, the house is built, the toilet is working, I'm healthy and maybe fit, my new teeth fit, that the world is still spinning, that the money goes to the bank, that the Chinese are still underwriting us, and I can still speak Chinese. I'm grateful for a whole bunch of other shit that I don't need to publicly acknowledge. AND... I'm most grateful that the miracle of life is still being enjoyed by all of you. HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Nothing

The weather is changing here today. The warm sunshine and tease of spring is being replaced by a north wind, black clouds, cold rain and dropping temperatures. Winter is returning for the latter half of February. The driveway is returning to mud. Wood consumption is rising quickly.
Finally, California may get some rain. More importantly, the mountains on the California-Oregon border are getting snow. My property needs the water.
Watching CNN today, I see that citizens that have lost their homes are protesting in front of the homes of CEOs of various lending institutions guilty of predatory lending. The idea is to 'personalize' the victims to the culprit. Remember this desperate day; the victims are forecasting an attitude and frustration that is going to explode nationwide.
As one friend put it, "This $900 billion give away is the grease that will send this fine country into the big black shit hole. The poor will be in the streets looting. The folks with anything left will retreat." Predatory Bankers better hide now. It would appear when the guillotines are dragged out their heads will be the first to roll.
If this was China, their greed and crimes would have already brought death. Maybe we can learn something from our Pacific rim partners. Misuse of public trust and power should be punishable by death. We wouldn't have to kill many politicians before Washington straightened itself out. Think if we killed just a few and all of the lobbyists.
It's only the beginning, too. As the race downhill proceeds (like a snowball) people will get angrier, hungrier, more unsatisfied. Public unrest is coming. Tax-payer revolt is coming. The ball gets bigger and rolls faster every day.
Americans have lived fat and sassy, and will not be satisfied by a simple subsistence survival. For awhile everybody had money, and everyone got a taste of having a little wealth; watch how we revolt against being poor.
And why shouldn't we? It's the people's money keeping the whole system afloat. Why don't the people now own the system? The banks, the automakers, insurance, housing, They should all be the people's now, and so should their profits! The privatization of profits and socialization of losses is plain robbery. These bailouts are just continuations of the robbery. A few heads should roll, literally. No, a lot of heads should roll.
As the house of cards falls the terror from within will begin. Eventually there will be no good or bad guys; people will fear both the government and the enemies of the state. I guess the retreat part comes into play about then.
The world is changing. America can no longer afford to support the rest of the world with her unbridled consumption, just as America cannot afford to police the rest of the world. Maybe it's time we focused on saving ourselves.
The sky is black now. Snow is starting to fall, swirling in the winds, carrying the latest storm into southern Oregon. It's late in the afternoon. The sky will only darken, the day become night, and the cold deepen before the storm passes.

Only the Bear does now

There's a Shower, Dishwasher, Sink, and Washer hookup too. The Shack was also water-sealed and insulated underneath this month, which should make Winter MUCH more comfortable than last year.

Say Good bye to the bucket.

A Note to My Oldest Son

What's up Son,
Have you no opinion on American politics? Perfectly fine really, I know nothing about Britain except everybody in London is from somewhere else, and you can meet women from everywhere in the world and never leave the city limits. Oh, and look right or die, 'cause that's the direction from which traffic approaches! Find a good bakery for coffee and a foreign girl, (since I'm a foreigner in London) and it's a hook.
Woke up to snow flakes this morning. Cold. Winter doesn't want to release the mountains from it's grip. When the sun comes out Spring warmth is in it's light though. Meanwhile I'm forced to cut firewood daily to keep warm. Exercise. Next year I'll stock 10 cord of wood, not 2. I can deal with the solitude as long as there is food and firewood in the house. The basics; food, shelter, warmth. Love, laughter, music.
Perverted perceptions of the basics are wrong; green bud and easy money were not part of the original formula. Sugar babies weren't either. I slept with several last night in the pocket of my pajamas. During the night they slipped out of my pocket and proceeded to glue me to the bed. They were still good eating after being removed with a pocketknife. Like honey. The perfect food.
Your cousin got a 60 day notice to move out of the trailer. His dad agreed, and he's got 30 days left and not a clue. It's bite the bullet and grow up for your cousin. I might bring him to southern Oregon as an indentured laborer.
I figure your cousin, Carlos, you and me and it'll be THE PONDEROSA! BonannnnnnnZaaaaaaa!

The End of Winter‏

The flag waves lazily today under cloudy skies with patches of blue. Penetrating sunlight reflects brightly in the distant ridges where the last of winters fleeting army of white is on the retreat. Not even reinforcements in March will prevent the inevitable meltdown of the oncoming new season: Spring.

My old friends, six grey mule deer, wander up the hill behind the shack. Stopping to eat the new grass beginning to bud, they quickly look up when I gently tap the upstairs window with a pen (I should hear so well!). I try to get Croco-Dog to look out the window (he likes the deer ), but despite my efforts his attention cannot be distracted from his ball.

The house, much easier to heat now that temperatures are staying above freezing, is comfortable and roomy for one person. It will soon be expanded: Opposite the kitchen and upstairs, on the back of the house, I'll add a living room with windows that face south and west. Someplace for a big screen and a pool table. This time next year I want the pictures to reflect another years work.

When I compare pictures twelve months apart I realize how much progress has been made. Like most accomplishments achieved over years on a day by day basis, looking back, it is hard to fathom the depth of the accomplishment immediately upon completion. Remember that when you stop to take a breath in your educations.

The pictures help to illustrate my feelings. Wouldn't it be nice if we could photo the human mind to graphically show and encourage the new graduate, who on occasion will look around and say, "For what did I work so hard?'' The fruit of ones labor is not always apparent to the producer.

This second summer the shack and my property will blossom dramatically if I can only apply myself as I did last year. That will be the hard part; my incentives, my fears, my desires have changed. I have waited 51 years for this Spring. With good luck my new home will be a success, a springboard, and history: sold for enough profit to do it again on property without a mortgage where I can apply what I've learned here. Can I get a Hallelujah?

With bad luck anything can happen, but I never forget that we make our own luck for the most part, and hard work goes a long way to influence an outcome in most circumstances.

With no luck (or no buyer) I'll set steel post and build the aforementioned living room.

It's Not About Race

It was raining here earlier. My mother called and she told me that it was snowing where she lives. She's forty miles from me. I was glad it wasn't snowing here. Rain is warmer.
After her call, it took ten minutes; the drops in the sky start to float and the world is transformed to an indistinct grey. All becomes the same, linked and inherent to the snow; the grey world. White-grey, grey-green, cloud-grey, frosted-grey. Grey pictures, black and white in color (I've included some from the perch). All is grey. All is related.

I see that Senator Obama won the South Carolina Primary Saturday. That is not surprising. But something must be or I wouldn't have brought it up. After the victory, I believe during the Senators victory speech, the chant in the background was "It's not about race." I don't think the Senator was comfortable with that... either. The Senator has tried hard to keep 'race' a non-issue. That is why I was surprised at the chant. Especially considering the overwhelming (80%) black support for Senator Obama in South Carolina. It was that support that won the state; Senator Obama only won about 25% of the white vote.
The victory doesn't bother me. Senator Obama is as appealing as any of the candidates. What bothers me is the chant. It was a lie: It was about race in South Carolina. It was about race when Oprah jumped into politics and endorsed Senator Obama. It was about race when those Obama supporters stood and chanted "It's not about race", or why else would they chant a denial to something that it wasn't about? And that is the bothersome part. Why deny the obvious?
Does America, or at least the South Carolina Obama supporter, fear the acknowledgment that we are still a racially divided natio (are we?)? I think what the South Carolina chanters were trying to express is the quality of Senator Obama's candidacy. That they were willing to vote for him for reason other then his being black. So will they accept a non racially bias defeat if non-black voters do not support the Senator and then claim that it's not about race?
I understand how voting for someone other than a white male (ie. a black male), is appealing to the 'black voter'. I could understand females supporting a female. Chinese supporting a Chinese, Catholics supporting Catholics etc. It is a credit and corroboration to the authenticity of Senator Obama's campaign that he can pull enough of the 'others' to be victorious. 'Others' being non-black voters. But let us not deny the obvious, so that when it doesn't favor our candidate, we aren't surprised, and possibly angry. Race is an everyday, major issue, and America being above it is the corresponding issue.
It's about gender too. It's about religion as well. Senator Kennedy jumped on the Obama band wagon today so now it's about the 'Kennedy' thing equally. Hell, it's about every dog and pony show you can think of, so don't try to tell me it's not about race. 80% is 80%. If Senator Obama does that well with any other segment of the population then it won't be about race.
The Obama campaign promises to illustrate not just how tolerant, mature, and evolved, but also how hypocritical we are as a nation. And I dare say it now- It is about race, and a myriad of other qualities that have nothing to do with race, but should Senator Obama lose, then 'race' will be a major issue. If he wins then history marches on; he's the first, there will be others. In the coming months, America will learn something about herself: we don't live in a grey world.

Red state, blue state,
Revealing me and you's state,
The State of affairs is nobody cares.
Just because they chant it, doesn't make it true.

Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, the blue of the sky will bust through the upper part of the grey world. The evergreens will be green in the sunlight. The yellow snowplow will reveal the shiny, wet, black pavement of my road. The white snow on the red skin of the Madrone tree will melt and reveal the colors of the world. red where it's red, white, black, green and dirty some places. It will all be there. UNDENIABLY!
The light of the truth, the grey, formless, who ya' gonna call gone, and all the colors of the world will return.
Be ready for it

A Lord of the Rings Weekend

All three movies are on Tv today. I am so jazzed; something to do all day that requires no work. Kickin' it with Gandolf and the short, hairy ones. There's a storm moving in too. When the films get to the parts I've already seen (this is a repeat for the first two. They played Friday and Saturday) I can watch the clouds slowly conquer the mountains and surround them in rain. Life is so wonderful!
The Fellowship of the Ring is almost over. As the age of man draws near to it's end, I wonder what the next age will bring? What will the life form of the next age be? Probably a Crocodile. The meteor didn't get them the first time around, Global warming won't get them this time. And there will be a lot more low lying shallow water. Sounds like a good deal for the Crocodile.
Probably a good time for me to start cross-breeding my Croco-dog. The Croco-dog will be the baddest dog on the block. Bred to keep its tough crocodile exterior, but retain a soft warm coat of hair on top of it's skin. The Croco-dog's tail will not only be able to pick a gazelle up out of the water, but also be faithfully wrapped around his master at night to help keep him warm. The Croco-dog will only need to be fed once a year or so and, with that kind of frequency in food necessity, the Coco-dog will be virtually maintenance free. Poop free too, almost. And when it does Poop, it will just look like someone left a steely in the living room, you know ball-bearing type thing, hard and round.
Maybe Ents will come back. A cross between plant and animal: Swamp-Thing. Tolkien must have had secret history books from Middle Earth. No one could could have come up with all the names, maps, history, everything! I call Bullshit. The man had to have found the treasures of Atlantis.
...Finally, the wind is picking up. The assault on the mountains begins. Bradland is normally last to give in to the cloud cover, first to bust out. Thus, the many rainbows. Might be the nickel mountain, but I always heard it was the pot of gold. No matter, they all equate to southern Oregon. Follow the yellow brick road.

Just go north til your dink is dinky
and the air ain't stinky
Where the snow will fly
and the colds' in your eye
the rain don't hurt
cause it ain't filled with dirt

Sorry, I guess the movies are putting me in the mood for some middle earth lore.

...It's raining now. Hard. I can hear it on the roof and the side of the shack. Every wind driven burst of rain screams, "Coooozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"