Had not seen Patrick in a while. He says he hasn’t left Rutland or Middlebury for a while. He looked pretty stable, better than the last time we interacted.
Category: environment
Stephen Shore at Bard
Who knows what be next? Visited Bard to hear an explanation of the limited residenct MFA program. Took a tour of the campus. Walked past Steven Shore’s office in the photography building. Left my card on his door. I wouldn’t say it was the functional equivalent of what Philip Roth described in The Ghost Writer where the fledgling writer spends the night at the home of his idol, but I felt the vibes. Shore doesn’t teach in the MFA program. Too bad.
Papa Neutrino’s Junk
Papa Neutrino left Burlington on a makeshift raft with three dogs and three other people. The raft barely made it to Charlotte before winds, waves and the elements did his craft in. Leaving aside the danger he put rescuers in, not to mention his crew, and the equipment damaged during efforts to save him, he left garbage on the shore of Lake Champlain despoiling one of our most valuable and beloved assets. How ironic that those who authorized his boat as water worthy have to look from their station at his mess.
Lone Sailor Sees Again
The smoke went north when the winds shifted. Fires continue to burn in Quebec. Clouds brought rain, helping the plants and settling the smog. Winds and cool air chased the clouds. Voila. Blue skies for a change. Not that the weather ever stops me from going outside. I like the gray days, the windy days, the cold days, too. It is just a matter of how many layers and which one sits closest to my body or farthest away. It is the windy days, when it is cold, that keep me huddled up inside.
Just a t-shirt today and shorts. No wind. No humidity. Warm sun. Clean air. And no people.
So Sharon and I rode along the Lake on the bike path, after the bike commuters cleared out. Few visitors here early on a Friday morning and locals have to work. Relatively empty but for a peloton of kids learning bike etiquette. Not sure they know their right from their left or that when they ride their bikes, they have to follow the rules like everyone else, giving up their usual exception for being short and young.
What kid wouldn’t want to be on their bike on a day like today, a day when we are all kids, enjoying the freedom a bike brings and the thrill of having the wind in your face as you generate the energy needed to travel?Just lovely.
To avoid the kids, Sharon wanted to exit the path and ride down North Street, fearing they wouldn’t know to move when I said “on your right.” But they all had control over their equipment and moved the correct direction, giving us an aisle to ride through. In the lead, I didn’t hit any of them and none ran into me.
As I passed, I said a customary, “thank you.” The well mannered Burlingtonian kids replied, “your welcome.” Very wholesome.
Lake Smoke
Awoke this morning without the Lake. Later learned that forest fires in Quebec burn out of control, sending smoke southward to VT. My eyes burned during a brisk walk on the bike path. Most of the boats harbored in Burlington stayed home. The Lone Sailor and his gull friend stood watch. One looked for his ride, the other for his breakfast. The breakwater barely showed through, but the islands, NY coastline, and Appalachians were covered.
How big must the fires be to send their debris all the way down here? Lots of people being uprooted, no doubt, and forests destroyed. I cannot picture where the smoke comes from or how far away it is.
Very eerie, let me tell you. Its not like heavy fog, which has metallic texture, wet feeling, and watery smell. The fog comes and goes, aided by nature. The sun comes up. It burns off. The temperature changes, it rains. In the winter, it leaves wet snow. Fog never hurt nobody, unless you try to drive through it and hit something you didn’t see. Not so with this polluting smoke which burns the eyes and lungs. No one benefits from the smoke. It just obfuscates.
Here, people tell you how long they have lived in the Green Mountain state to add credibility to their views. Sometimes they add the number of bodies in the ground their families have buried to embellish the story. For example, we had an early May snowfall that faked out all the plants and insects who thought the season to come out had arrived. One old guy told a local news station he had lived here for 80 years and never seen such a late snow storm or heard of one. I guess there hasn’t been one, then.
During my walk, a jogger with a headband who looked like a pirate in search of his ship, shared his observations of 40 years in VT and his more recent experiences snowbirding in the Everglades, “seen lots of burning brush fires, but none that could leave a blanket of smoke like this.” No records exist for cosmic occurrences involving smoke from a forest fire traveling down Lake Champlain, but I would have to say that in the few years I have been in VT, I have not seen anything like it.
Shellfish
Meet Monsieur Pommes Frites Pommes de Terre Tete. I call him Frenchy. Here, armed with a martini and some champagne, he battles the lobsters which the Sharon and I will share for our celebratory anniverse dinner. He has fought the shelled creatures before, preparing them for boiling as a picador in the tercio de varas would prepare a bull, never losing a bout or overdoing his job. He leaves them worn out, but not so tired that they don’t fight back a little when the hit the water. His courage comes from a potatoes natural starchiness and chilled Chopin vodka, very dry, straight up.
But last night’s feast did not come without some prayer and hope for all who inhabitant the Gulf region affected by the oil catastrophe. I look at the pictures of the birds covered with oil, wondering where will they live. If it would make a difference, I would stand in the muck and wave a banner telling them to go back from whence they came. They cannot read of course and where would they go? I feel for the grass, plants, and insects, along with all the little sea creatures that feed us or each other. Nothing I can do for them, either. At least they have my thoughts.
How will anything living survive there? It won’t. And then what happens the next time a hurricane hits? What will the people do? Where will they go? They have already had one bout with the end of their lifestyle. Pretty Joblike, they must be.
Me. Feeling pretty powerless, I am, knowing those I thought were regulating the risk weren’t and those I thought could fix it can’t. VT could be next if VT Yankee fails. Have much the same feeling about who is in charge here, too, and whom they think will be responsible – Entergy, a LA corporation, I believe. Big oil, big energy, big banks, big insurance companies. Its them for them selves. Us? We be the cogs in their game. Maybe they will leave us some crumbs.
Enough. Had a reasonably terrific time at dinner, Sharon being the great date that she has always been. Watched my diet. Not too much butter on the lobster. Not too many tater tots. Some broccoli de rabe with garlic oil. Didn’t drink too much. Bollinger Special cuvee. Some wine from the club Sharon belongs to at a local store. Leonardo’s Vermont Ice with fresh fruit and generic chocolate cookies. We laughed until we cried about something; I cannot remember what. Listened to Monk and who knows who else. Would not have been anywhere else or wished for anything more, other than the safe future for all living things on the Gulf coastline.