Monday, May 29, 2006

We woke up this morning to what we expected, with the mercury much lower than it should ever be this late in the year. We had put blankets and tarps on the garden for the second night in a row, only this time we knew that the situation might be a little more desperate than the previous night.

Sunday was cloudy and snowy, with the sun making a brief appearance now and again, only able to up the temperature by degrees of one and two at a time. We ended the daylight hours with 41 degrees. Then the clouds all cleared off, leaving the stars twinkling briskly in the crystal-black sky.
We slept knowing it was in God's hands entirely.
In the morning, the sun rose with no reservations or encumbrances. I let it warm up above forty again, and went out to survey the damage.

Aside from heavy damage in the tomatillo department and the black tops of most of the tomatoes, our efforts were fruitful. Perhaps we've seen the last of the freezes for this year, but maybe not. Either way, I'd still do the same. It's always a crap shoot when gardening here in Sanpete, even the best of the old timers don't always come out of the season unscathed.

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Following strict rules of etiquette and procedure, it's snowing here in Sanpete two days after school let out for the summer, after two and a half weeks of ninety-plus degree temperatures.
Why did we plant three-quarters of our garden before Memorial Day knowing in our bones that this would happen? It could be the fact that we've waited 'til after for the past two years, and we never really got anything done before it was too late. There's a window or opportunity of around a week and a half, and that's just too short for the likes of us.
Why did I take the top off of the 'Runner knowing what I know? That easier to answer, and I don't reckon really I need to.
We'll hold out hope for some more sun sometime today, after which we'll run the tarps out to cover and insulate for the night. That's the plan.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

I am yet working and wandering around Ephraim; the Suburban is at the shop being procrastinated on and put off, so I'll just enjoy the blessings of a break in routine and college-provided internet access.
Here's the inside of the summer-abandoned Greenwood Student Center at Snow, via my poor little web-cam, just for novelty's sake.
Over the past six moths or so, I've seen a few articles in The Telegraph on the young Nepalese monk Ram Bamjan, also known popularly as the 'Buddha Boy'. It's an interesting story that came out of a troubled land in very perilous times.
There's a good Wikipedia article on him, and I just ran across a great article in GQ.

I'm at Snow College's Phillip's Library right now, catching up on some work while I wait for the S'burb's AC Service to be completed.
We did the whole leak repair/recharge thing last year, and all went well as long as the long arm of the winter didn't tweak things anew. As long as I have the wretched behemoth and a wee lass like Anwyn around, we might as well have the air conditioning work, no?

I'm pretty sure it's a repeat of a show recorded last year, but here is a link to Radio West's show today, featuring Doug Peacock, whose photo appears to the left. He is an old friend of Abbey, the model for George Hayduke; Abbey's Anarchistic Vietnam War Veteran character fromThe Monkeywrench Gang, and an author in his own right. Check it out, if you fancy this sort of thing.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Some more information and insight into the companies attempting to extract oil from the area in and surrouinding rural Sanpete County.
Aint money and business grand?

Sunday, May 14, 2006

These are a couple of photos taken while I was driving up the canyon on Friday. The light was a beautiful spring ideal and a breeze the night before had driven all of the smog from the valley, making the new green shine in the morning sun.

I can't think of many more beautiful sights than this, I look forward to seeing this every spring. One of these days I'll take a few with a real camera and really bring the colors and shades out.

Heck, I'll even take it somewhere besides from the danged road at forty-five mph.

Happy Mother's day, all. Especially you, dear Mother, and of course, Diedre Ann.

Friday, May 12, 2006

This gentleman seems to have a good message and some very sound techniques. Here's one of his books.
Another beautiful day at one of the best intersections of man's ingenuity and pure, unrivaled natural beauty.
Yesterday evening was wonderful. I met a number of friendly, urbane, incredibly intelligent people. My friends Lishaun and her good husband, Brody invited me over to their home for a barbeque along with seven or eight of their friends and their children. Lots of fun, and I learned much from each of them. I hope I didn't make too much a nuisance of myself, sometimes when it's been a while since I've met new, interesting people, I run at the mouth and the opinions.
I got up here a bit late, the bed at Brod and L's house was far too comfortable. They sent a quantity of great little girl clothes and implements home with me, and I hadn't enough room in the 'Runner to stow away for the night in, so I availed of their hospitality over night. Very good hospitality, to boot. I owe them a debt of gratitude, for sure.
I also noticed some of the complexities of city life. They are far too perplexing for me to get used to with the small amount of time I spend in cities. It seems that I just don't get many of the formalities and don't understand many of the codes of life in the bigger cities, and I can get a bit bogged down in their decoding and navigations. That took me a bit more time this morning, as well, to go through and process on my way too and fro this morning.
On the way up the canyon, I picked up a young lady at the mouth thumbing for a ride to work. We engaged in small talk as we wended our way through the canyon, stopping to let all of the more advanced cars pass my put-put from time to time. She mentioned that her boyfriend was from Bountiful when I said I was originally from there, and I happened upon him behind the counter in a store in The Cliff Lodge. I happened to figure out his relationship to the fine young lady because of a passing comment he made while I was bantering with him.
His name is Griffiths, and while he went to Woods Cross High seven years after me, he said that both of his parents graduated from Bountiful in the early sixties. His parents probably knew mine, since both of mine graduated in that era from that fine institution. It's an amazing, strange small world we live in, and even if they have no apparent cosmic rationale at the time, some things are singular in their synchronicity. I wish I understood more about why. I love this kind of stuff.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

From one session: The meaning of life.

I'm in the keynote session of the Utah Troubled Youth Conference at Snowbird and in the midst of one of my annual places of self-examination and deep-breathing.
I got up late and dithered way too long at the house, but at least I got here sort of on time.
As I walk around and observe, I see that so many of these people in my field are very gregarious and outgoing, I am an anomaly- here alone, usually quiet and without anyone to gab or discuss things with. Most are here with groups, sponsored by their agency or business, and I am just here floating around like a spectre on my own dime and planning on sleeping in the 'Runner. Each year, I try to talk with people, to strike up conversations, and make a new friend or associate or two, but It hasn't worked too well in the past few years or so. I'll try again, assuming that I need to change some assumptions or approaches this year, but who knows; I might not have the energy for it when opportunity presents itself. We'll see.
It's fascinating to just examine my relationship to the rest of the world as it presents itself.

Tuesday, May 9, 2006

Here's the full text of Iran's President Ahmadinejad's letter to President Bush. (MS Word) I'll try to get a cleaner copy later on.
Fascinating, in many ways.
(via Le Monde)

Sunday, May 7, 2006

Up to the mountains we went, Ryan and I, to see what we could see and to scope out the progress made by the grass and verge against the retreating snows.
We had a great time jousting against the wind and budding river birch above the Engineer Canyon ponds, and fish were caught, but we sought more than tangles and lost flys, so we headed down the road toward the Forks of the Huntington.

We were undaunted by the feeble gate and signage at the foot of Left-Hand Fork, but the sheer elevation gain ahead and probabilty of snow and mud left us less than eager for the challenge.
We headed on down the road a bit more, toward the desert. Ah, my beautiful desert, mistress of my winters and saviour of my snow-bound heart, she is about to undergo her annual transformation and ritual scorching, so we thought we'd better have a go while summer was still held at bay by a fickle spring.

A view toward the west, toward the Colorado Plateau from the edge of the Swell.

There are many traces of Spanish exploration prior to the 1700's in the Swell. Many say that there is treasure hidden and mystery to be unraveled, but that is for those with too much time and energy on their hands.
I have children to tend to and a wife too cherished to hunt often for such quarry.

Welcome to The Wedge! This one is for Ryan David, may you heal well and quickly. No, I didn't doctor this or make it up.

The leaves are new and untried against the summer's sweltering sun and drying winds. Their green is translucent even when the sun isn't shining from behind. Man, it's transcendently lovely out here right now.

An Homage to the 'Runner, steed of many adventures and sundry 'splores into the outback.

Another view of the canyons.

In the Swell, there are petroglyphs and pictographs too numerous to catalogue. These are some 'graphs from a drive-up area just off of the trail.

A view across the way from the paintings.

The end of the trail for the day, we had to get back to town in time to be late for some things that needed to be done. What a day, no matter what gas costs.

Friday, May 5, 2006

Another dispatch from the "Humans are Both Amazing and Terribly Odd" Department...

Thursday, May 4, 2006

My name is Adam Burningham. I am an addict of procrastination. I can't stand doing things that will be undone in what seems an instant.
I don't like to mow the lawn, it will be dead again in a couple of months, what will seem then like an instant. Why should I waste precious life energy on such as that?
I can't stand reglazing windows, either. They will be broken again, any minute. There was a reason that said window was broken, and chances are, that problem hasn't changed or grown up yet. Why spend hours on something that will be undone in what seems an instant?
Oh. And Christmas lights. I understand putting them up, they are pretty and bring much life into wintertime, but why take them down again? It will be Christmas in what will seem days, and then I'll have to put them up again when it's cold. What's the use in that?
It's all for the neighborhood and town busybodies, isn't it? They need something to change, to complain about, to frown about and to bring up during beautification meetings. They need more jobs and outlets for their abundant silly energy and landscaping appetites. They can come over to my house and do all of the dumb jobs. I'll go on a bike ride or write a poem.
This is a stupid Procrastinator' Anonymous meeting, anyway. I'm outta here.

Yeah. The Christmas lights finally came down yesterday evening. Kinda pathetic, neh?

Monday, May 1, 2006

We had thought it was a rogue Tomcat that the kids have been seeing around lately, but it didn't add up. Our chickens are fairly cat-savvy, and the style of killing didn't match their m.o., either.
When another hen inside the cage fell prey to the fiend just yesterday morning, we knew we had to do something. Five hens and two roosters is just too many to sacrifice to a local phantom, so we got the live trap out and baited it with corn and eggs.
This morning, we caught the culprit who has been stealing our eggs and mercilessly eating the heads and crops of our chickens.
He has a new home up the canyon, next to the irrigation diversion. May he live long and prosper, the punk.