Locals, Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie...

I did the long loop today. Getting tired of this long, cloudy, rainy month. Windy with a cold chill in the air. Too warm for a fleece jacket and shell; too cold for just a fleece jacket. Too cold not to wear a tuke; too warm when I wear one. I either sweat or am chilled. March weather.

A word about a couple books I've read recently. The first: "100 Miles" by Dan Thomas. Picked this up at the library the other day. This is a self-published book written by a local author who retired to a property of ten acres, close to here, on the Sacramento Valley. He retired to the town he grew up in after spending a life in Marin County being a school superintendent. The title comes from his explorations within 100 miles of his homestead.

All of his explorations were by car as a change in health status (cardiac problems) limits him from taking long walks. This change in health status gives the book an atmosphere of sweet loss. Of longing to get out and take a hike. The impression is that he is trying to squeeze as much remembrance and life out of what has become for him a glimpse at mortality. Erickson would call it "Integrity versus Despair". For a self published book I found it to be a worthy read. The book has an amateur naturalist feel to it.

And I read a collection of Woody Guthrie's writings. This was a wonderful glimpse into the motivations of a man who cared about working people. Juxtapose this to Bob Dylan's autobiography (Dylan started out by copying Wood Guthrie) and, well, I find Dylan to be a self absorbed, inauthentic artist. Woody Guthrie was the real deal.

Would Bob Dylan write something like this:

"I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter how hard it's run you down nor rolled over you, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work". Woody Guthrie Dec. 3, 1944

Mud House In The Big Woods...

Good to be home.

The dogs and I took a longish walk on this cold, overcast day. Ran into a couple of new neighbors: a young couple with a baby on the way. "We are city people who can adapt" they said. Nice kids; they are full of optimism and potential. We discussed the Ridge and issues regarding adapting to living up here. Made plans for a barbecue.

I hope to take advantage of the young man's muscles by putting him to work on our house over the next month or two. I could use a hand to finish some projects (and he could use a little extra cash).

Socked In...

Had a relapse of this powerful bug which has kept me confined to the Monastic Dorm for a couple of days. Days of watching, endlessly on CNN, the crises in Japan.

Nuclear meltdowns aren't as frightening as they once were. I guess Chernobyl and TMI desensitized us to the dangers of irradiation. Estimates on the deaths resulting from Chernobyl range from a low of 4,000 to a high of nearly one million. The problem is that it is very difficult to establish a causal link between the specific event and cancers that show up thirty years later.

All in all, watching CNN's reporting on the disaster, it has become apparent that CNN is not the news network they once were. They seem timid and young (without any youthful fresh ideas or creative approaches to reporting). And to make up for the lack of decent reporting, they seem to have cornered the market on reporter's with English accents. Is this supposed to heighten the self-esteem of the network?

Nature Bats Last

Took the day off to rest and get over this cold.

It felt like one of those days that changes history. As I write this, we have no clue if one of the five troubled reactors in Japan has melted down. During an apocalypse, it is tough to get any news. The area hit by the tsunami is effectively incommunicado. No power. No phones. No information.

So they built these Nukes next to the ocean so that they would have good access to water to cool the reactor. They didn't plan on an 8.9 earthquake, followed by a tsunami that wiped out the backup diesel generators that keep the fuel rods from melting down. When I drive to work tomorrow, will it be through a toxic cloud of radioactive ions blown over from Japan?

Poor Obama. First he announces new drilling in the Gulf of Mexico and the worst oil spill in history foibles his plans. Now these Nukes might be melting down in Japan. Last year, Obama announced that two new nuclear plants were going to be built--effectively ending a thirty year moratorium.

Is nature telling him to change his plans?

The Nuthatch...

I imported a cold when I returned to Concow. Yesterday was spent doing the Nyquil thing. Take Nyquil every six hours with a cup of Emergen-C. My standard protocol to deal with a cold. It leads to multiple hours of naps--which leads to fighting off the bug.

Today a Nuthatch flew into one of our picture windows. I looked outside and she was dazed and unable to move. She let me hold her; pet her. As she groggily came back to life, I took her into the house and we watched TV for awhile. The Nuthatch seemed to like MSNBC.

Life returned to her little by little. At first she couldn't close her beak. Then she could. Then she could only extend one wing. Then she began to turn her head. Then she was able to hop. Joni went and got an old ornamental bird cage and we put her into that for awhile.

The dogs looked at her. Our cat was a bit upset that we wouldn't let her at the bird.

When the Nuthatch could flutter around the little cage, we took her outside. Joni and I watched her fly off to a branch of an oak tree.

I wonder if this Nuthatch will remember me? Will she remember the warm fire, the way I pet it's feathers? Will she remember this as she visits our feeders? I'd like to think I made a new friend today.

Cobwebs

A walk around Calistoga this morning. Coffee. Ibuprofen. Attempts at removing this ax I have lodged in the middle of my forehead. You see, turning Fifty only happens once every Fifty years: Best celebrated with a couple of good friends at a classy Inn while drinking a few wheat ales washed down with single malt Scotch. The good stuff.

Fun. But I'm happy turning Fifty only happens once. At least no ribs were broken during the celebration.

Concow Creek Canyon

On my last day of being a person who is under the age of 50, I decided to take the dogs down a different canyon. The purpose? Exploration. I'd never been to the bottom of this canyon before. But I have been down far enough to remember the Mother Lode of Three Rivers Slate.

I found the Mother Lode of the slate. The road down is too steep for either one of our commuter cars. A jeep might do it. So, to harvest this slate, I'll have to pack it out in a backpack (which will be good training anyway).

Towards the bottom of the canyon, someone with a sense of humor has built this vacation cabin.

The road gave way to a single lane path. The water is raging in the creek and, seeing as a couple days ago a forty-something male slipped on a similar path and was washed away to his untimely death, I turned around before anything like that could happen to me. We shall return to fully explore the canyon when the water is less lethal and the path less slippery.

I don't know why I've been living here for almost three years and have never hiked down to explore this canyon (which only takes about an hour to get to the bottom of it by foot after leaving my front door). A new canyon to explore!

First Spring Flowers...

What a weird year! Finally, the first wildflowers are up. I haven't seen a robin yet. Joni says she has seen a few but they seem shy and avoidant of us. Other years, I've seen robins in January. All week I've had my eyes peeled; looking for the bird of spring.

The turkey vultures have been active. I read in a book last night that sometimes they will take live prey. First time I've read that.

And our apricot tree bloomed, at least, six weeks early. Since we've had hard freezes since then, that crop is probably doomed. Plus the tree bloomed before the bees were out of hibernation. Kylie heroically volunteered to go pollinate the trees with a q-tip. She didn't get around to doing her good intentions.

The last two days I've heard bees finally buzzing about.

Angel was penitent today after carousing off yesterday. She stuck close to my side during our three mile long, loop walk.

Two more days until I turn Fifty. Looks like I might make it to that milestone.

Sure Sign of Spring...

A walk with the dogs today. I'd meant to make another foray down the canyon, but Angel wandered off into the woods where she found a rather large bone. She decided that the walk should be over so that she could gnaw at the bone. No amount of coaxing would get her to continue the quest.

So I watched her chew the bone for a bit. Then we went home.

Scooters is open! Our one restaurant within thirty miles of here closes for the winter. It opened today. Spring is sprung! This is a biker (as in Harley) establishment on beautiful Route 70. Highway 70 is a national treasure, little traveled. Well worth a day trip from Oroville to Quincey.

Training...

The dogs and I have picked up our training the past couple of days. This means that we hike to the bottom of the canyon, and then back up. The dogs have a howling good time:

The route is pitted with the diggings from the 1850's and onward. This is a shaft to a mine that some miner dug back in the 1800's. The canyon was quite active in the 1850's and the second largest gold nugget ever found was dug up close to here. It weighed 54 pounds.

The miners in the 1850's had a mining camp where the path ends. These rocks were stacked by them back then.

After two weeks of rain and snow, the Feather River is raging. I didn't let the dogs go swimming, as they could be swept down river.