Walk #299: Bees, Ghouls, Corpses and Foreign Policy

Home to Concow. Picked up the girls at school. They were quite proud to show me a macarbe scene for Halloween. A pumpkin head will finish the corpse.

And a walk, cut short by a swarm of bees. Aggressive little fellers. I don't know if we have killer bees yet here in Concow, but these bees were quite aggressive. Even Angel wouldn't go too close to the oak tree that holds the hive (which you can see if you look at the photo closely).

So Angel and I turned around and went back to the Homestead, where a string of Ghouls enchants the entrance to our house.

Pushed the wrong button and ended up loading another photo of the bees. Danger.

I got hit by a large male client yesterday. He hit me with a closed fist on the side of the head. Hard. Rang my bell for a few minutes.

I liked my reaction though: I just told him "No" and didn't reflexively strike back. I got out of the way.

On a larger scale, I wonder if such reactions to violence aren't more successful? Just say No! Get out of the way. Be safe. Spending trillions of dollars in Iraq and Afghanistan out of revenge for a horrible act on 9/11, ultimately, is as counter productive as striking a Client who struck me.

Danger. These bees are dangerous. I shall give them a wide berth. Perhaps our foreign policy should do the same?

Walks #296 and #297: Every EcoSocialist Has His Price

Joni and I were talking this afternoon, trying to figure out how to buy some supplies and how to pay a Handyman we hired. I ended up telling her: "If we build it, the money will come".

I walked inside the cabin to call the Handyman to arrange a meeting. A message bleeped in my ear, so I checked it.

Call work. I did.

"Hi Allan, we are uncomfortable with the inexperienced staff we have working this weekend, so we would like to offer you a bonus if you would work a double on Saturday and Sunday", the Hospital Staffer said. "You will get the normal time and a half and double time--plus an extra bonus".

"How much of a bonus?", I said.

The bonus was enough to force me to drive the three and a half hours to the Napa Valley. My walks tomorrow and Sunday will be on the Unit (given my rules). Work a double shift--no walk.

Assuming I survive the next couple of days, the money has come to get the Handyman to complete what I am too darned inept to do.

"If you build it, the money will come". Every EcoSocialist has his price.

Walk #295: Fall is the New Spring...

Back at my Foothills home, new life emerges. Angel the dog, and my achy legs head out for a short walk. I've been away for one week, and it is like returning to a new home.

Green emerging everywhere!

This confounds my Minnesota sensibilities. Fall should mean leaves turning brilliant colors and dropping to the ground. Death. Not here. The only thing that falls are acorns (which are dropping quite frequently).

No. Fall in the Foothills means a new color. The browns and reds and tans give way to green. Tiny green shoots. Green grass. The hills start looking lush. More like Spring than Fall.

I've been walking this road through the four seasons: Winter (endless rain); Spring (flowers!); Summer (intense heat and brown dryness); And now Fall (new life and shimmering green).

Pick a favorite, Allan? Winter sucks (the only good thing about it is that you can have an occasional campfire without worrying about burning up the entire State of California). Spring is wonderful. Summer has it's own charms with the evening breeze that blows down from the Sierra.

But I'd have to say Fall is my favorite. It is still warm. There is moisture in the air. The return of the color green gives your eyes a break from surveying tan and brown. Perfect hiking weather. We should have a few more weeks of joy until the winter rains begin.

Walk #294: Return to the Homestead...

Drove back across California last night to my home. My legs haven't really recovered from that long stretch of double shifts I worked. They ache. That was just too much time on my feet, in crappy shoes, on a hard floor.

So I took the day off. Hated to do it, but wisdom dictates rest now and then. Not that walking is anything quite so strenuous--but being on your feet for four days in a row is. Gotta rest...

California is turning green. The photo above shows green grass coming to life. On my drive yesterday, it was exciting to see the green emerge. I also came across a herd of tule elk where I have never seen elk before. Magnificent beasts...

I have a week off now. On my list of things to do is to (finally) buy some supportive work shoes. We have also hired a carpenter to help me finish off the last wall that needs to be built, add two exterior doors (and put in a wood stove). I'm just not smart enough to figure out how to do this (and winter is fast approaching). At long last, this Addition we are building just might be usable this winter.

This should be a fun week!

Walk #293: Walking as Therapy

I'm still in the Napa Valley. I was asked to do a couple extra days, putting on my Utilization Review Hat. Today's walk was a bit different.

I snuck out of the office and did something which has become rarer and rarer on our Mental Health Unit: I took a walk with a few Clients.

Cutbacks have led to the near elimination of our "Creative Therapy" department. One of the things we do on our Unit, that almost no one else does in the United States, is that we take walks--in nature--with our clients.

I am often told that "the walks" are the most enjoyable and beneficial part of a Client's stay. They love it!

Most therapy is done sitting down. In a comfy chair--while some over educated, under experienced, bookish believer in some therapy model (Jungian, Freudian, Cognitive, Transactional, Transpersonal, Transcendental, etc. etc.) listens.

Better to take a walk. Watch a Stellar Jay fly by. Talk about the Century Plant that bloomed last year and died (which they do after years of growing, once they bloom only once). Take a walk with a wise person and lives are changed.

Have a problem? Take a walk with someone. That, I believe, is the best therapy.

Walk #292: A Scab Visit to Charles Krug...

Aching from four days of hard work, I walked to Charles Krug Winery.

This Winery was the first one in California. Started in 1861, it became quite famous when the Mondavi Family took over in the 1890's. The eldest Mondavi bought the place after moving from Minnesota. Family feuds and intrigue plague this family enterprise. It became a battle of two sons: Peter, who retained the Charles Krug Winery (and at 95 years of age still lives on the property); and Robert, who split with his brother and founded the billion dollar enterprise of Charles Mondavi Wineries. Word has it they didn't talk to each other very much.

Blood is thinner than Wine.

I hesitated to visit Charles Krug due to its shameful breaking of a contract with the United Farm Workers a few years ago. Still, I wanted to see some history and the historic buildings.

I flash my hospital badge and get a free tasting. A couple from Minnesota share the tasting bar with me. They are from Duluth (a city that I lived in for a couple of tortured years). We talk about Duluth. They get the premium tasting; I get the non-premium (albeit free) tasting.

The wine is good. The person pouring the wine is knowledgeable and friendly. As is my custom, I buy a bottle in exchange for the free tasting. Then, I ask THE QUESTION:

"How are your labor problems?"

The Server mumbles: "Oh they were done eight or nine years ago; things are good now". (Actually, it was in 2006 that the Union was fired from the grounds, and36 loyal employees--some with thirty years of experience--were put out to pasture. )

The Server walks away quickly. This is not question that is welcome at this Winery. The Minnesota couple had not heard of the firing of the UFW. Nor did they care.

Back in my room, the Zinfandel didn't taste as good as it did in the winery. I wish I hadn't purchased it. It tasted like shameful greed in a bottle.

Walks #288-291: Four Doubles...

Sorry about that.

When opportunity knocks, one should capitalize. So when given the opportunity to make an obscene amount of money by working my fanny off, well, count me in.

Four doubles. Four days. Given my rules (no walks on 16 1/2 hour shift days), there is nothing to report.

Thoughts. How to survive a double as a nurse?

First off, consider the time spent as time amongst friends.

Secondly, pace yourself. You have all day to get that charting done.

Thirdly, get most of the "busy" work done early (which goes against the second rule).

Fourthly, remember rule number one.

Fifthly, when the day is done, don't fret about getting to sleep right away. Unwind. Yes, I know it is only a few hours before the next shift, but time to relax is needed. I stayed up until one am watching a JFK special. Another night I staye up reading John Muir. I needed to do that, despite the four hours of sleep it led to. You can sleep when the stint is done. Which is what I will do now...

Cheers!

allan

Walk #287: In Defense of Green Piety and Blog Action Day

Explosions on the Ridge this morning. I get out my walking stick and venture out to seek that which has blown up. I walk. Three neighbors, in their jeeps and pick up trucks, are also on patrol for the offending boom.

Explosions like this have a history on the Ridge. And mortality. They tend to be propane tanks exploding due to faulty "do it yourselfism". I had a plumber set up our propane tank, knowing the history of death on the Ridge (yes, one poor Soul got killed when his tank blew up).

It isn't what you know that will kill you; it is what you don't know.

We never found what was exploding. Our suspicion is that they are blowing up trees that are plugging the Feather River in the canyon. Four explosions thus far.
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9,000 bloggers are writing about "Climate Change" today. You can follow some of the posts here.
I have nothing really new to write about this. But what does interest me is popular culture and Green Piety.

I come from good ole Norwegian, Haugian, Pious stock. Most of the piety revolves around a few no no's. Don't drink. Don't gamble. Don't swear. I remember going to see a movie with my Lutheran Pastor brother, and while I enjoyed the flick, he was upset about the nudity. He felt it sent the wrong message to teenagers. Since I was much closer to being a teenager at the time, I enjoyed the skin! A pox on my brother's piety!

But what about the new Green Piety? Those who religiously recycle, don't buy plastic, drink local beer, take the bus to work, eat organic, buy local products, attend Farmer's Markets, ride their bicycles for errands (Yeah Ian!), drive a Prius, take a walk everyday, have a Luddian world view, put solar panels on their roofs, go to the library, join the Sierra Club, buy books from New Society Press, live "off the grid", build natural houses, subscribe to Yes! Magazine, get degrees in Environmental Studies, buy 7th Generation detergents, read Ed Abbey and H.D. Thoreau, write an environmental blog and are nearly Pharisaic in their approach to the new Green Commandments.

We all know a few of these folks. Are they crazy? Is this Piety healthy?

My argument would be a resounding "YES!" (to both the crazy and healthy part). Despite our hypocrisies (after I finish writing this, I will be heading out in my car to drive the twice monthly 165 miles to work).

All new religions start with Piety. This Green Movement, no matter how corrupted by Corporations that seek to appeal to our inner do-gooder, needs to grow. It needs to become our New Religion. Enough of the "treasure in heaven"; we need to see the "treasure" that is the Earth. Blog Action Days help the matter by getting us all to think about the same thing: In this case, "Climate Change".

Piety is the precursor of Cultural Change. Cultural Change is the precursor to all the good things which might interrupt Climate Change. When a few people lead, the rest just might follow...may this Blog Action Day help pave the way.

Walk #286: Bulldozers...

A reader of this blog wrote me a few months ago about the proper way to disable a bulldozer. He found that aquarium sand, in the crank case, works the best. This fellah lives in a beautiful area that is being developed. He considered such actions a moral imperative.

I didn't disable this bulldozer on my walk. I don't know what the owner's intentions are--other than to clear off some manzanita. Seems to me the proper way to clear brush is with a saw.

The storm is passed. We survived. The mud on the house didn't melt away.

Tomorrow is a blogger event (see the little bug to the right that leads to a link). Some 7,000 plus bloggers are going to write about climate change. I got invited by an organisation to write an entry for them on the impact of climate change on "humans". I respectfully declined.

In the United States, the human impact thus far has been negligible. However, the Grizzly in Montana are in danger of going extinct because of climate change. Also, Moose in northern Minnesota have suffered huge reductions in their numbers due to climate change. The impact, thus far, has been on our non-human cousins.

But tomorrow, I will write about climate change (as will thousands of others). I'm no expert. I've read McKibben; saw Gore's movie; read Lovelock. I accept climate change is real. And dangerous. And caused by human activity.

Which leads me back to the bulldozer...and my entry for tomorrow. First, I have to take that walk...

Walk #285: Swaying Like John Muir

A Ponderosa pine swaying in the wind....

I once read a passage by the ecstatic, skinny John Muir, where he rides out a storm in the top of a Ponderosa Pine. Swaying in the rain. John Muir was probably safer in his tree than I was walking the ridge today.

We are in the midst of a two day storm. Winds, I'm told, have been gusting to 55 mph. Drenching rain. I had a hard time coaxing Angel (my dog) to accompany me. She looked at me as if to say: "You have absolutely no common sense, oh master of mine". I grabbed a bit of Jim Beam to take along with me. Warmth.

I couldn't find my rain coat either. So it is hypothermic cotton to wrap my body with. And a stocking cap.

The winds howled. I kept close watch on the trees around me. It isn't the Ponderosa pines I'm worried about; they seem to do fine in the wind. It is those silly Oaks. They don't have the sense to grow straight. Miserable widow makers.

I think to myself, "I wonder how much time it takes from when you hear the crack of the bark until the trunk of the tree ends your life"? I decide that it would be just enough time to startle you before you start your trip to the other side.

I only take one photo. It is too wet to take photos.

When I return to the Cabin, my dog runs in circles. Joyful, she is, to be home. I don't know if she should feel such joy. After all, I built this Cabin. And it is being banged about by 55 mph winds.

John Muir rode his tree through the storm; I ride my Cabin. And so it blows....