Oct 16, 2011 by Naomi.

So much for October’s bright blue weather. At least several inches of rain fell in the early hours of October 16. How much is “much”? During my perusal around my mushroom field at seven AM I found my little red wagon full of rain water. Now that wagon was setting well inside the open shed away from roof runoff. So the rain was substantial. But how could it fill the wagon? Apparently the wind was also powerful. I was aware of that around midnight when the English walnut branches outside my bedroom were brushing against my window. The wind had carried rain into the shed. Made a mess. I removed the shelves I had stored (away from rain) into the shop to stay dry. I spread the small pieces of quarter inch plywood I had cut for art paintings on the ground hoping they will dry out tomorrow. I raked out the soaked leaves that had accumulated on the floor and hosed out much of the dirt. The blue tarp was still folded neatly nearby. It was supposed to have been tacked up to keep weather out (I was thinking snow). Now I think I should wait until the floor dries before hanging the tarp. Well maybe not. Because that tarp will not make the shed air tight the floor should dry anyway. And prevent unwelcome water from intruding. To quote Pooh Bear, “Oh bother.”

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Oct 16, 2011 by Naomi.

While enjoying my early morning coffee in my sun room, I noticed that dozens of mushrooms have popped up around the Lodgepole pine, enough for a big panful to saute. The ground is soaking wet from rain that just stopped falling but the air is fresh. I am not about to slosh out there to gather fungi no matter how good they might taste. Not my idea of breakfast food. A poem about October’s bright blue weather came to mind and Google brought it up very quickly. I do not remember having to memorize that back when I was in grade school but Helen Hunt Jackson’s poem proclaims a beauty that I can smell. Sagebrush and walnut leaves fill the air with a scent I appreciate. The hazy sky will probably clear as the sun rise as it usually does. The poem suggests that October is the brightest time of the year because of the brilliant color in the leaves touched by frost. Richland’s temperature has not so far dipped to a frost level and I hope will not for weeks to come. I will bundle up and relax in my cedar rocking chair to enjoy the blue or gray or whatever nature delivers. Except I will withdraw indoors if that delivery is wet.

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Oct 15, 2011 by Naomi.

Never know what will pop out of my active synapses. From my sun room (while snuggled in my blue blanket robe) I compared the trees I have nurtured over the years. Leaves of the deciduous varieties: English and Black walnuts, cottonwood, and dogwood, are beginning to turn yellow and many began falling off after the day long rains. The evergreens will stay green but I am more aware of the differences in their “leaves” which appear to be like needles. The longest needles are on the tallest pine, Ponderosa, planted by the city to hold back the terrible sand storms of the fifties (now called the shelter belt). The Colorado spruce, Douglas fir, lodgepole pine, western cedar and red cedar or Sequoia are trees I planted in my yard for no other reason than I like a variety of trees. Birds are happy to be able to get above and beyond the cats. Little black birds arrived several days ago, zipping back and forth through the bushes. One finally stopped on the fence long enough so I could identify it as an Oregon Junco. A red shafted flicker appeared, a bird I haven’t seen all summer. I observe and appreciate, especially those diligent folks that mark all they study.

Von Linnea was a German who figured out where each plant and for that matter, each animal, fit into the evolutionary scale. In spite of all the evidence, there are some folks who refuse to understand that evolution is why we are here. I think it is a grand pattern and is still working its way through nature. We can, for fun, speculate what life will look like five thousand years in the future. Isn’t that what Starwars did? Go where no man had gone before? I admit I disagree with the creator of that show as he portrays Homo sapiens having huge bald heads with other parts unchanged in the next millennium. Evolution indicates a progression toward entirely different animals. I step back and look at myself and wonder how each part might evolve.

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Oct 14, 2011 by Naomi.

Although I am a dedicated Democrat and the Tri-Cities group is meeting tonight at the union hall, I am sitting at home by my computer instead. The meeting usually consists of between forty and fifty faithful folks whom I think mostly come for the social aspect to keep in touch. And everybody brings food and eats. Tonight a speaker will discuss global warming which is an interesting process to contemplate. We know the polar ice is melting at an alarming rate. Chunks break off and the big white mammals slip and cannot climb on again so they drown. When will the water reach the residents on the continents’ shores? I suppose mathematicians have a formula for such events but I am unaware. Years past a study group I attended put much thought into how a sudden breach in Grand Coulee dam would flood Richland. West Richland buildings would need stilts and other areas might put up dirt barriers but all these years later, nothing was erected to save us or any four-footed creatures. Those of us who could would climb up on roofs if we had not already driven out of town, or tried to and were stuck in horrible traffic jams. For now, like Doris Day we will shrug and sing Que sara sara. (I think my car will float. For a while anyway.)

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Oct 14, 2011 by Naomi.

Don’t ask me how such a word as mole came up because the origin of that thought is fogged in the mist of curiosity. But I found information in two sources: chemistry and biology. The English language is rampant with confusion since the same spelling is used for items whose uses are as far removed from each other as water is from fire. In chemistry, mole is a measurement of concentration of some element or other. In biology, a mole is a mammal, you know, like us – an animal bearing live young that feed when first born on mother’s milk. However, unlike humans, moles prefer to burrow and live underground, which means well developed paws, front and rear, with which to dig. These specialized animals live in temperate climates feeding on insects that are often the bane of gardeners and home owners by their indiscriminate attacks on roots of favored vegetables and grasses. Moles are not well received by people because they disfigure the well-groomed lawns civilized folks now covet. Neither the chemical nor the animal are aware of the argument which is just as well, since it occurs in a limited part - the top six inches - of the natural world.

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Oct 12, 2011 by Naomi.

To keep busy I began to look for productive ways to spend this winter that I’ve declared I would stay in Richland. To keep fit, I can walk miles over squirrel-chewed hunks of walnut husks and ten times around my shop is about one fifth of a mile so add that up. That will help wear off the damage done by three delicious meals each day. After that rest is in order. A quiet time for sure but I itch for accomplishment. It is no mystery that my hassock is full of yarn - hanks, skeins or whatever they’re called. Has been for years if I remember rightly. I look them over as if never have seen them before and am not impressed. One project well under way is a turquoise scarf. I think I could finish that. I have a library of ideas and patterns for other good stuff. Other skeins in hand are of a variety of colors and unfortunately a variety of textures that will not mix well in a single project. Oh well. Back to Good Will from whence they came.

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Oct 10, 2011 by Naomi.

The rain continues. Some fell off and on during the night and now the prospect of sitting out in my cedar woody would suit a duck or some other water repellent critter but not me, thank you very much. That’s OK because Thomas sent me more background on my Dad’s history to contemplate. He is diligent in seeking history and cross checked to verify that his findings are correct. For a 17-year old my Dad showed courage and determination although his purpose was to escape military service in the army of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and encouraged by his mother who insisted no man ever returned except if critically wounded. Nevertheless after immigrating in 1907 he promptly presented himself for service in the US from which he was rejected because of a physical disability as well as poor eyesight. Because of advances in modern technology my eyes see well enough with glasses that adjust for stigmatism.  Through a modern innovation called the Internet and a connecting devise, that is my personal computer, I can remain snuggled indoors and still have access to the whole wide world.

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Oct 9, 2011 by Naomi.

That’s what I did. Let go of flowers. Any material I bought always included flowers. I exchanged the blue roses in my bedroom for plain lime green (unused pillow cases). Goes nicely with the leaves of the walnut trees that brush against the south windows. Well I changed to stripes. Literally. I got sheer material in delicate multicolored stripes for curtains that face the public. No way will I want to parade in my night clothes as I have in the past. I removed the bright material from the bathroom window that matched the orange angel fish above the toilet tank but with the cedar fence beyond the window I haven’t yet decided whether to cover it at all. I do spend coffee hours and meal times in my sun room and enjoy the wildlife beyond. There is a pot of mums on my front porch that if I plant should bloom for a couple of months. I decided to stay home and take in the scene all winter. Que sara sara. Who knows?

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Oct 7, 2011 by Naomi.

So for lack of attention I never made the trip to Hartford, Connecticut, for the Freedom From Religion Convention. Pulling up the information about best routes and air fares is fine but failing to push the last buttons left me without a ticket so I stayed home. I have a photo album of my 2003 trip up the Mississippi to celebrate 100 years of the National Wildlife Refuge System during which I toured the Missouri caves where Tom Sawyer and Becky got lost. Through the ingenuity of an entrepreneur and considerable amount of money I flew to St. Louis MO and had a seven day trip on a steamboat, a paddle wheeler, up the Mississippi River to St. Paul MN. At Hannibal the tour went into a well marked cave where the lights were turned off for a few minutes and I got the feel of fright the kids had at being lost in the dark. It was the caves that inspired Mark Twain, that is Samuel Clemens, to write his stories. He wrote from Hartford and his home there is open as a museum with authentic period furniture. That residence was a main tour for conference attendees. I’ve been there done that so I didn’t miss out on side trips. I am really sorry to miss the convention because the main speaker is Steven Pinker, author of THE BLANK SLATE and good stuff about how language developed in humans. I contemplate that sort of thing while I rock in my cedar woody and watch squirrels, Juncos, and hornets hurry in the warm sunny breeze. Then I look through my album “The American Queen” and gaze upon photos on the steamboat and Mark Twain. The actor made a fair living impersonating the American icon, or so I was led to believe.

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Oct 1, 2011 by Naomi.

Even with my forearm resting on the desk while I maneuver the mouse (like I would handle it if it were a real little mammal!) there is a strange ache that accompanies my thoughts as I serf for the definition of the discomfort. When I was an editor in the deep dark distant past I had typists who suffered pain in their wrists and the malady was diagnosed as carpal tunnel syndrome. As I recall wrists were wrapped in elastic bandages and a soft spongy tube was placed at the base of the keyboard to alleviate the pain or at least lesson the discomfort. Striking keys to transfer thousands of words from some egghead’s research was crucial to his (or her) future fame. Government files are overstuffed with printed pages from the syndrome of macrobabble. Typists were quite low in the pecking order but you know, somebody had to do it. I have no one to dictate to so I strike my own keyboard. I plagiarize unsuspecting “experts” in cyberspace when I want information on any subject. Just put an unconnected series of words into Google and there it is: all the stuff needed for a serious article. I must message the sequence to make the punishment to fit the crime but it works with a lot less effort than scripting it all myself. I must note that the keyboard on my computer responds to each keystroke like a flick of my finger sends a wanton fly off to pester elsewhere. No muscle required. Fortunately, not much intelligence is required either. Do not read my lips. Read my wisdom.

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