A dark future is clanging its bell at my window.
Thunderbolt and lightening, very very frightening,
that same storm that ravaged parts of the Pacific Northwest lately.
But Oroville Dam picked up 20’ of water I heard
There is a light snow-pack on the western mountains.
Gotta build up that ice on the mountains to recharge the water table
or else we’ll survive because we divine the production of clean water from sea water.
The hydrological cycle is starting to wobble.
If we are passive, it will get worse.
We already must adjust our thinking
about how and where we build our homes
in the coming relentless storms.
So we can rebuild the same way in hurricane ravaged areas near Houston,
or we can design homes in safer places,
or safer homes for places with risk of predictable natural disasters.
If we stop all carbon today
it will not cure massive changes
in world weather patterns.
Grow local economies with
green investments in homes
Energy-efficiency retrofit and solar panels . . .
tax relief for capitalization than puts local people to work.
The past predicts the future
but TODAY DECIDES TOMORROW.
~ Dr. P-J
Grandma Chandler’s house in Mukilteo
– purple and blue
Seattle - 2343 B
– yes, we had a snowball fight with them
– spindly, stretching up, along the fence by the back gate
a single red tulip, by the drain spout mud puddle where I made mud pies and shared the mud with big dauber wasps (side by side play)
Big purple bearded iris
– sneaking out from the board fence of the people on the corner
Yellow and red Snap dragons
– stolen surreptitiously in 2nd grade on the way home from school
- so much guilt - stealing flowers is a crime against humanity
- so much joy - making the thing snap open and shut
- one of the best fragrances in all the world
- an ancient row in a flower bed no one could see adjacent to our cottage,
between our house and the neighbor's,
she of the penciled-in highly arched, scary looking, Jean Harlow eyebrows, a smoker, died and her cottage left untended for weeks - my dad finally started mowing her lawn and other upkeep on her yard
. . . but the flower strip was 18" deep and 12 feet long, packed full of the most fragrant flower in all the world.
Woods near Seattle
– little ones in the forest
Blackberries – in flower not so interesting, but good to come back to.
– fungi but as beautiful as any flower
– blossoms of no particular interest, okay but no memorable smell.
Giant monster of a tree with five main limbs coming out of a huge base that had a crack down the side where it had been struck by lightning.
You could just shimmy your toes in the bottom of the crack and get a toe hold and then lunge up the tree to the first big limb.
Rest a moment and then climb up the main branch to a nest in the sky.
Read Nancy Drew and Judy Bolton (no more than one a day!) and in the right season, eat the best cherries of your life
. . . just reach up and pick ‘em.
– The whole town smelled good when the apple blossoms were in bloom.
Walking through clouds of pink.
The Apple Blossom Festival:
marching in the parade, first in fourth grade, as a pioneer,
then as a starling,
then a bug.
7th grade in drill team in a pink gingham dress your mom had to make
with no sleeves,
underneath you wore a white blouse with a collar,
- So many on the bushes that Mom cut off huge bouquets, wrapped them in newspaper, and sent them to school with us. I gave Mrs. Vanderpool the wonderful smelling bunch and she actually liked something I did. That was a one-off. She put them in a giant vase and they brightened the room and smelled delicious.
- most interesting in fall - as dried out geometric rattles
– my father planted them by the kitchen door. They did well and were lovely.
Sage brush – not a flower but a smell of the high plateau that I miss. Someday I plan to go back to the high plateau and smell the sage brush. Perhaps I'll even see a tumbleweed blowing down the road . . .