Friday, June 27, 2008

when all hail breaks loose

For a moment, the story flashed on yahoo's news page--the arctic could be ice-free this summer. When I went back to read it, this story had been replaced by one in which an American baseball pitcher was placed on the disabled list in a freak pillow accident. I didn't read that story. In trying to find the arctic ice story online to follow up on it, I ran across the following:
from 23 August 2005
prediction: the arctic will be ice-free by 2105
from 12 December 2007
prediction: the arctic will be ice-free by 2013

And the story that caught my attention today:
prediction: the arctic will be ice-free this summer (that would be now, right?)

I get the feeling we can't really rely on science to give us accurate predictions of how we will be affected by global warming, and when. I read a story a couple of weeks ago about flooding in Iowa, where the crest of a river was a foot (!) higher than predicted. The weather forecasters lamented that the rain that had fallen had overwhelmed their models, and so they could not accurately predict the river crest. It was unprecedented. As was the dry lightning storm in California that was responsible for starting over 800 forest fires. Rare. So far. But not really.

So anyway, what can we do except deal with it? Floods, droughts, severe weather--this is common now, right? My daughter has personally seen a flood, suffered through droughts, ice storms, tornadoes, and even felt an earthquake, and she's just a kid. She's never seen hail, though. That should be a treat for her. We are fortunate right now to live on the higher flat land, away from abundantly overflowing rivers (smartly designed by the Army Corps of Engineers). We are having a good time gardening, watching the raspberries ripen over the course of a morning, and seeing the tomatoes grow a foot in a day. So far, so good.

Tomorrow, we spend time with our farmers at the market, and tomorrow afternoon, we commune in potluck with our food not lawns friends. A toast, to mother nature, wherever and whenever her furies fling us, we still take shelter within her restful arms. We drink of the bounty, and live out our lives in beauty. Adaptation is our hallmark.


Sunday, June 15, 2008

coming home from the Zomba Zone

Hakim and Sharqi, my friends here in Illinois, thou have been most wondeful hosts. Little House in the Ghetto, like a Sufi garden of enlightenment and ease. It's a sacramental reality, here. Doing whatever we can to facilitate that most convivial of communal points of view- hanging out. We cooked together, gardened together, shared qafue and sat with our backs to the Tree of Life.

I am enjoying a certain article in the Book of Lies: The Disinformation Guide to Magick and the Occult. It's called "Are You Illuminated?", and discusses the path of reoccurring initiations that happen with all those who tread on the path of spiritual Adepthood.

After reading the article, I think of tree out in the front yard. Humongous Ulmus americana, American elm, shades the whole yard sometimes and contributes much to the Arcadian mystique this place now holds for me. It looks like Yggdrasill, the crux tree in Norse mythology. Odin has to hang from the trees branches and die before going on to knowledge.

Kind of feels like going back to college?

Saturday, June 07, 2008

the poppies have arrived.

Today is the eldest Bears' daughter's high school graduation party, and it is really very nice. It hasn't rained in many days, but today there was a heady storm (which we drove through), and mist rose from all the ridges. At some point the magic light arrived, which is a sort of joke on Joe. One day he was smoking too much or something, and an intern from George's place wanted some trilliums. Joe started to walk over and suddenly whistled loudly and rushed everyone into the garden to look at something he described as much varied and lasting no longer than 5 minutes. So we always go out to look at the magic light when the sun makes evening clouds pink and separates all the green into different shades of blue and yellow.

Anyway. We walked down the road to the low-water bridge and the foot bridge above it. The sky behind us was filled with a 3-day old moon set all in pink and mist settling into all the purple valleys along the ridges. The trees looked moist and happy and dark along the walk back, and the sound of the creek threatened to put me into a state of bliss.

So. Here we go to Illinois tomorrow!