Ok. We read that police blotter too. Now wait a minute. here's the story.
We are the turkey people. We are among the native people of North america, even though we were introduced in this area primarily to establish populations for hunting. WE are here to feed you, and all you find to do when we occasinally and for a short moment block the traffic in Lo Condo, is to calll 911? That is pathetic.
Monday, March 26, 2007
la Conner Police blotter, continued.
" Thursday March 15, 9.27am. Foul jam: An apparent stranger to these parts -you bet- called to report that turkeys were causing a traffic jam, near the intersection of Morris and Second streets. The turkeys, which have laid claim to La Conner's streets, eventually moved on, allowing motorists to pass ".
Now imagine. imagine my French relatives and friends reading this. Just one minute. Even assuming they know where La Conner is. (the 3 that came know, and the 3 LOVED La Conner, BTW).But just imagine, OK?
Well to me, if I imagine, this sounds like it's straight out of a Garcia Marquez novel.
So you could call that quaint little town Macondo, or La Conner, somewhere in Western washington, not far from the Canadian border with Bush country. The country of bushes, of course. So what you learn reading this police blotter in the local newspaper is that in this quaint little town of La Conner, WA, the most politically active citizens are a group of turkeys, who regularly demonstrate to claim and reclaim theit right as the indigeneous inhabitants of the area. Usually nobody ever bothers to call the police for the "traffic jams" caused by the creatures. Devilish or not, that remains to be determined. However, the fact that this caused a 911 call is very significant to me, of the frame of mind some people in this country are in.
I mean , the same thing happened to me a few days ago, and several times before, to be bloked for a little while by a group of turkeys in downtown La Conner, but then I just waited, amused, till the creatures crossed the streets and allowed me to proceed. You see where I'm heading? I mean of course it had to be, number one, a stranger, number two, a dummy, number three, an asshole with time to spare, to call 911-and therefore monopolize the police services attention much more needed elsewhere- about a group of turkeys blocking "traffic"?!
Let me tell you, the person who called was an alien with a capital A. I also think there should be a penalty for people who calll 911 when it is not justified, therefore using the precious time of police forces who might be needed more critically elsewhere. THAT is what I'd call irresponsible behavior.
Now imagine. imagine my French relatives and friends reading this. Just one minute. Even assuming they know where La Conner is. (the 3 that came know, and the 3 LOVED La Conner, BTW).But just imagine, OK?
Well to me, if I imagine, this sounds like it's straight out of a Garcia Marquez novel.
So you could call that quaint little town Macondo, or La Conner, somewhere in Western washington, not far from the Canadian border with Bush country. The country of bushes, of course. So what you learn reading this police blotter in the local newspaper is that in this quaint little town of La Conner, WA, the most politically active citizens are a group of turkeys, who regularly demonstrate to claim and reclaim theit right as the indigeneous inhabitants of the area. Usually nobody ever bothers to call the police for the "traffic jams" caused by the creatures. Devilish or not, that remains to be determined. However, the fact that this caused a 911 call is very significant to me, of the frame of mind some people in this country are in.
I mean , the same thing happened to me a few days ago, and several times before, to be bloked for a little while by a group of turkeys in downtown La Conner, but then I just waited, amused, till the creatures crossed the streets and allowed me to proceed. You see where I'm heading? I mean of course it had to be, number one, a stranger, number two, a dummy, number three, an asshole with time to spare, to call 911-and therefore monopolize the police services attention much more needed elsewhere- about a group of turkeys blocking "traffic"?!
Let me tell you, the person who called was an alien with a capital A. I also think there should be a penalty for people who calll 911 when it is not justified, therefore using the precious time of police forces who might be needed more critically elsewhere. THAT is what I'd call irresponsible behavior.
Awakening of the senses
Finally. I got my topsoil. Finally. A decent enough temperature. Finally. No rain!
So yesterday I started working in my garden. Shoveled topsoil in my two boxes. One for salads and veggies, one for herbs. (my friend Roberto told me to pronounce "erbs" not "herbs".) What's the matter with those people who don't want to pronounce the H's? I guess Americans would have a hard time learning to speak Arabic properly, since H's are the staple diet of that language.
So I planted a few salads. As I was shoveling topsoil from the top of the dike to the wheelbarrow, and then to the boxes, I got aware of a smell, something like the smell of an exotic flower. I still can't tell what it was, and it was still present today as I was doing some cleanup in the garden. It kind of transported me in Macondo, the town in the middle of the swamps in "One hundred years of solitude". It almost smelled like Monoi oil. Maybe it was a combination of the topsoil, the wild flowers blooming at the back of the garden by the beach, and the herb garden. What an exhilarating feeling it was! Some see gardening as exercise. Others view it as another way to arrange their environment. As far as I'm concerned, I like my garden to look cute, and as natural as possible. The least human intervention possible. Today for instance I was wondering whether I should keep the back of the garden sandy, its natural look, which implies a daily fight with the knotweeds, or do what I did last year, cover it with cedar bark, which was of considerable help in controlling that weed, besides the nice woodsy smell it provides all the season.
I do agree though that gardening is a healthy exercise, for the body as well as for the mind. Once there, like when I paint, I forget EVERYTHING, including the worst human invention: time. I forget about time. I forget that I have to cook dinner. I forget my husband, my daughter, and my own self- the latter is the probably the healthiest for me- I have internal monologues about where is best to place that plant. So I put it there, then step back, look at it, try another place, do the same, till I find something I like. Actually sometimes I speak ou loud to myself, and I'm not ashamed of it. Very healthy. Try it. Not only for gardening.
Sometimes I look up at that cottontree where the bald eagle is calling. Today he was alone, his-or her? partner probably away fishing. I looked at the eagle, and tried to communicate with it: "I know you're watching me, that's fine, I like your company", that's what I told him.
However my gardening is more than physical exercise, and it is everything but trying to domesticate nature. Rather, it is trying to learn from nature. It is taking what she offers, giving whatever I can to help, - yes, how presomptuous, huh?- trying not to disrupt anything. It is taking -just what I need, no more,- and hoping she'll allow me to continue to feed myself. It is giving, my respect, my care, my love, my gratitude. It is also a feast of the senses, something that would be as a good as a good, hearty, earthy French meal, amourously cooked, accompanied with the right wine, as good as making love, as good and refreshing as an early morning swim, as good as meditation, and therefore a spiritual practice above all. I don't garden only to get veggies, I garden to commune with nature. Oh, the healthy effort of shoveling the topsoil, pushing the wheelbarrow, -that thing is darn heavy, and I'm so tiny- :)
Oh,the tender dialogue when I put that fresh soil in my boxes, how the rosemary, the lemon balm- yes, what a balmy smell it has- how the lemon balm, the chives, the parsley, the Italian oregano, the thyme, liked that fresh soil, I could almost hear them sighing with satisfaction. And the bounty of smells they gave me in return!
My garden is located between the dike and the river, so it is rectangular, stretching from the back of our workshop to the beach. It is part of the space we're renting on shore. I started it up when I arrived here and it helped me a lot at a time when I didn't have many connections here and in the first few months when I didn't have a job. The only disruption I caused there was to reclaim the space from the knotweeds, a long battle that is never totally won.
Another factor that every gardener experiences I guess is the pleasure of anticipation. It's like love, it may be even better before. All the months you spend preparing your yard for the season, anticipating the pleasure you're gonna have having your dinners outside by candle light, - and the mosquitoes- another long battle- are almost as good as, if not better, than the actual summer season, let's face it, so short anyway, you give two parties and hop! Gone,!It's fall! Welcome to the pacific Northwest.
A few years ago, I was having another wonderful life, though in a different way, in Paris, but I felt I had expored it all, and I heard the call of the Skagit river. No, yes, this sounds like an old hippy's statement, but it's true. In my trendy-artsy rue Oberkampf, in Paris, at this late hour -10pm- which would be early there, all I heard was motorbikes, music, drunk people, and here, just the river-once more lately just below flood stage, bubbling and gurgling, and the frogs. I then felt sort of out of place in my own country, and now, here, I'm where I knew I was bound and meant to be: my new home. Two key elements contributed to this: the garden and the cafe.
So yesterday I started working in my garden. Shoveled topsoil in my two boxes. One for salads and veggies, one for herbs. (my friend Roberto told me to pronounce "erbs" not "herbs".) What's the matter with those people who don't want to pronounce the H's? I guess Americans would have a hard time learning to speak Arabic properly, since H's are the staple diet of that language.
So I planted a few salads. As I was shoveling topsoil from the top of the dike to the wheelbarrow, and then to the boxes, I got aware of a smell, something like the smell of an exotic flower. I still can't tell what it was, and it was still present today as I was doing some cleanup in the garden. It kind of transported me in Macondo, the town in the middle of the swamps in "One hundred years of solitude". It almost smelled like Monoi oil. Maybe it was a combination of the topsoil, the wild flowers blooming at the back of the garden by the beach, and the herb garden. What an exhilarating feeling it was! Some see gardening as exercise. Others view it as another way to arrange their environment. As far as I'm concerned, I like my garden to look cute, and as natural as possible. The least human intervention possible. Today for instance I was wondering whether I should keep the back of the garden sandy, its natural look, which implies a daily fight with the knotweeds, or do what I did last year, cover it with cedar bark, which was of considerable help in controlling that weed, besides the nice woodsy smell it provides all the season.
I do agree though that gardening is a healthy exercise, for the body as well as for the mind. Once there, like when I paint, I forget EVERYTHING, including the worst human invention: time. I forget about time. I forget that I have to cook dinner. I forget my husband, my daughter, and my own self- the latter is the probably the healthiest for me- I have internal monologues about where is best to place that plant. So I put it there, then step back, look at it, try another place, do the same, till I find something I like. Actually sometimes I speak ou loud to myself, and I'm not ashamed of it. Very healthy. Try it. Not only for gardening.
Sometimes I look up at that cottontree where the bald eagle is calling. Today he was alone, his-or her? partner probably away fishing. I looked at the eagle, and tried to communicate with it: "I know you're watching me, that's fine, I like your company", that's what I told him.
However my gardening is more than physical exercise, and it is everything but trying to domesticate nature. Rather, it is trying to learn from nature. It is taking what she offers, giving whatever I can to help, - yes, how presomptuous, huh?- trying not to disrupt anything. It is taking -just what I need, no more,- and hoping she'll allow me to continue to feed myself. It is giving, my respect, my care, my love, my gratitude. It is also a feast of the senses, something that would be as a good as a good, hearty, earthy French meal, amourously cooked, accompanied with the right wine, as good as making love, as good and refreshing as an early morning swim, as good as meditation, and therefore a spiritual practice above all. I don't garden only to get veggies, I garden to commune with nature. Oh, the healthy effort of shoveling the topsoil, pushing the wheelbarrow, -that thing is darn heavy, and I'm so tiny- :)
Oh,the tender dialogue when I put that fresh soil in my boxes, how the rosemary, the lemon balm- yes, what a balmy smell it has- how the lemon balm, the chives, the parsley, the Italian oregano, the thyme, liked that fresh soil, I could almost hear them sighing with satisfaction. And the bounty of smells they gave me in return!
My garden is located between the dike and the river, so it is rectangular, stretching from the back of our workshop to the beach. It is part of the space we're renting on shore. I started it up when I arrived here and it helped me a lot at a time when I didn't have many connections here and in the first few months when I didn't have a job. The only disruption I caused there was to reclaim the space from the knotweeds, a long battle that is never totally won.
Another factor that every gardener experiences I guess is the pleasure of anticipation. It's like love, it may be even better before. All the months you spend preparing your yard for the season, anticipating the pleasure you're gonna have having your dinners outside by candle light, - and the mosquitoes- another long battle- are almost as good as, if not better, than the actual summer season, let's face it, so short anyway, you give two parties and hop! Gone,!It's fall! Welcome to the pacific Northwest.
A few years ago, I was having another wonderful life, though in a different way, in Paris, but I felt I had expored it all, and I heard the call of the Skagit river. No, yes, this sounds like an old hippy's statement, but it's true. In my trendy-artsy rue Oberkampf, in Paris, at this late hour -10pm- which would be early there, all I heard was motorbikes, music, drunk people, and here, just the river-once more lately just below flood stage, bubbling and gurgling, and the frogs. I then felt sort of out of place in my own country, and now, here, I'm where I knew I was bound and meant to be: my new home. Two key elements contributed to this: the garden and the cafe.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Skagit river wrath
They think they can control me. They put huge walls and fortresses they call "dams" on my way. Damn the dams. Diablo lake dam. Well, I'm the diablesse, feminine for "diable", devil, and I haven't said my last word of the season!
Visions from eagle watchtower
This is a live report from eagle watchtower on Mann road, located right across the dock of South Fork Marina, live for Eagleradio7 on 97.3 FM, the only radio station owned by eagles, made for eagles, in eagle country. Today we have a live broadcast from our special reporter from Skagit valley, Eagle Cottontree, who has been keeping watch for us all day and this evening at South Fork Marina, Skagit county, to cover today's special event, the flood warning on the Skagit river. Mr. Cottontree, can you hear me?
- Yes, Eaglemike, Roger over and out. Go ahead!
- Good evening, Eagle Cottontree, can you briefly explain the situation to us?
- Positive, Eaglemike, well I've been here on the watch all day without much to report about, except steadily raising waters, but lately things have taken an accelarated turn. The Skagit river here south of Mount Vernon, in Skagit county, has now almost reached flood stage. The day is drawing to an end, and the human inhabitants of this location have now all come back home, to find quite a change from when they left this morning. We noticed quite some activity in the last few hours, starting with a species of the female human kind touring her property to evaluate risks and start gathering valuables. You know how materialistic those humans can be. We also saw, just a few minutes ago, that same individual bailing a little boat off the accumulated rain water, and then pushing away some debris from the dock with a perch. When the family gathered later on in the evening, we saw them taking turns going out to inspect the neighborhood. They are also keeping their pets under close surveillance, probably for fear they might fall in the river and get drowned.
-Mr. Eagle Cottontree, what impact do you think this event is going to have on our fishing season?
- Difficult to say, Eaglemike, but judging from what I'm seeing right now, it doesn't look good. The river is carrying along a lot of debris and mud, and the speed of the water makes me think our favorite hotels down below might suffer great damage, so yes, our fishing season might be compromised.
- And what about our mating season, you think it might be endangered as well?
- difficult to say, Eaglemike, I think we're gonna have to wait for the experts to evaluate the damage on that ground. Let's cross our fingers!
- Yes, Eaglemike, Roger over and out. Go ahead!
- Good evening, Eagle Cottontree, can you briefly explain the situation to us?
- Positive, Eaglemike, well I've been here on the watch all day without much to report about, except steadily raising waters, but lately things have taken an accelarated turn. The Skagit river here south of Mount Vernon, in Skagit county, has now almost reached flood stage. The day is drawing to an end, and the human inhabitants of this location have now all come back home, to find quite a change from when they left this morning. We noticed quite some activity in the last few hours, starting with a species of the female human kind touring her property to evaluate risks and start gathering valuables. You know how materialistic those humans can be. We also saw, just a few minutes ago, that same individual bailing a little boat off the accumulated rain water, and then pushing away some debris from the dock with a perch. When the family gathered later on in the evening, we saw them taking turns going out to inspect the neighborhood. They are also keeping their pets under close surveillance, probably for fear they might fall in the river and get drowned.
-Mr. Eagle Cottontree, what impact do you think this event is going to have on our fishing season?
- Difficult to say, Eaglemike, but judging from what I'm seeing right now, it doesn't look good. The river is carrying along a lot of debris and mud, and the speed of the water makes me think our favorite hotels down below might suffer great damage, so yes, our fishing season might be compromised.
- And what about our mating season, you think it might be endangered as well?
- difficult to say, Eaglemike, I think we're gonna have to wait for the experts to evaluate the damage on that ground. Let's cross our fingers!
Horizontal gangway and related thoughts
Yesterday's wind storm did chase the rain away, and helped me with my river landscape painting. I didn't need to put any music on, the wind provided the music. Wild,wild, wild.
Today the wind finally died down, only to leave its place to high waters, and the Skagit is under flood warning. Back home from work today I was planning to have a walk along the dyke to watch the river, but thought it wiser to stay here on the dock, since there were a few phenomenal trees and debris passing by our boats. Had to seize the perch a couple of times to push away some of them. Tonight the gangway's horizontal, which means almost flood stage. My neighbor's garden's flooded, and the river is just threatening mine, licking the edge of my beds. As I was sitting out on the waleela deck I noticed the gangway was horizontal. I then wondered what happenned to the salmons. Floods probably disturb the river bed enough to disturb them too, judging from the incredible speed of the waters. So I was wondering what the salmons do in such cases. Do they let themselves be drifted away to the bay, understanding it's their best option? do they cling to the river bed, trying to find a hiding place? or do they perish drowned? drowned. That would be a bummer, for a fish. Not unlikely though, the force of that water is pretty scary, let me tell you. It has resumed its latte color, like last fall, and it's bubbling and gurgling like a giant stew. The boat creaks and rocks back and forth, the ropes tieing it to the dock pulled to the extreme, making that creaking sound that makes you feel as if you were on a pirate ship. Every now and then we go out with a flashlight, checking the ropes, the water level, keeping night watch as on a vessel.
I once lived in a big hubby-trendy town in Europe, called Paris. That was in another life.
Today the wind finally died down, only to leave its place to high waters, and the Skagit is under flood warning. Back home from work today I was planning to have a walk along the dyke to watch the river, but thought it wiser to stay here on the dock, since there were a few phenomenal trees and debris passing by our boats. Had to seize the perch a couple of times to push away some of them. Tonight the gangway's horizontal, which means almost flood stage. My neighbor's garden's flooded, and the river is just threatening mine, licking the edge of my beds. As I was sitting out on the waleela deck I noticed the gangway was horizontal. I then wondered what happenned to the salmons. Floods probably disturb the river bed enough to disturb them too, judging from the incredible speed of the waters. So I was wondering what the salmons do in such cases. Do they let themselves be drifted away to the bay, understanding it's their best option? do they cling to the river bed, trying to find a hiding place? or do they perish drowned? drowned. That would be a bummer, for a fish. Not unlikely though, the force of that water is pretty scary, let me tell you. It has resumed its latte color, like last fall, and it's bubbling and gurgling like a giant stew. The boat creaks and rocks back and forth, the ropes tieing it to the dock pulled to the extreme, making that creaking sound that makes you feel as if you were on a pirate ship. Every now and then we go out with a flashlight, checking the ropes, the water level, keeping night watch as on a vessel.
I once lived in a big hubby-trendy town in Europe, called Paris. That was in another life.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
The concert
Lately as the annoucers of the coming spring showed up one after the other almost overnight, I delighted in noticing their presence, which is mainly of the auditive type so far. The river bank is barely starting to turn green, the dense thickets of berries and wild roses being the first ones to call my attention:"Don't you see me, I'm green, I'm green!". A few buds in my garden too. But the most noticable annoucers are the chants of all the fauna. Birds were the first, a few weeks ago, to start the serenade. A couple of days ago, as I was sitting on the dock in the evening, the serenade turned into a concert. My compatriots, the frogs, had decided that they'd had enough of the winter and that it was time to claim their place in the orchestra pit. That was the night following the click that brought temperatures in the 70's. So I was granted a first row seat for the concerto en frog mineur. I don't know how many of them there were, but it sounded like they were in the hundreds, a philarmonic orchestra. Who needs to go to the opera? I had forgotten the blessing it was to sit there, being actually...warm, mmmm, warm. So I was surrounded with all the tenors the river has in store, and yes, Oh the perfumes emanating from the river and the earth, finally let loose, as if somebody had actually opened a bottle. It felt like summer. We even had mosquitoes. Got my first bite of the season. Never thought I'd ever be pleased to have one. This minor incident put me in an exhilarating state, hey, it's gonna be picnic season! lingering season! siesta season! Even the river had a new song to play. Later on, as I lay in bed with my window open, I listened, and went to sleep lullabied by the frogs, and had the best sleep I've had for months. Only to awaken in that debauchery of light, sun rays, and birds fighting who sings louder. It's like awakening from a long, dark dream. You wake up, and you think, "I'm alive!"and your first move is to step out, to see, listen, and smell. I feel like a pagan. Let's celebrate the spring and greet it the way it should be.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Drip-drip
Drip.Drip-drip. Rain on the roof of the boat.
Rain water, river water. Different songs.
Rain sings drip-dripdripdripdripdrip.
River sings lellelelle,lelllanlellan,poit-poit,lellanlellan,lellellelan,poit-poit.
River and rain as they meet, titililltickllilling,poit,poit,lilticklilling,poit-poit.
Doum-doum-doum-doumdoumdoumdoum. The Conway tchoo-tchoo.
The dogs are napping on the sofa, Mr.B dreaming of Moustique, his inaccessible Parisian kitty, and Gonzalo that he's being eternally patted by a robotic hand that never stops.
And me writing silly nonsense.
Perfect relaxation.
Rain water, river water. Different songs.
Rain sings drip-dripdripdripdripdrip.
River sings lellelelle,lelllanlellan,poit-poit,lellanlellan,lellellelan,poit-poit.
River and rain as they meet, titililltickllilling,poit,poit,lilticklilling,poit-poit.
Doum-doum-doum-doumdoumdoumdoum. The Conway tchoo-tchoo.
The dogs are napping on the sofa, Mr.B dreaming of Moustique, his inaccessible Parisian kitty, and Gonzalo that he's being eternally patted by a robotic hand that never stops.
And me writing silly nonsense.
Perfect relaxation.
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