Here are some enviro-links toward the future of the nation, FYI.
I know this from my photographer’s experience: any image I take is one of a kind. Each composition—in light or in words—is unique. The light will never be that color from that angle on that exact configuration of barn, tree or wildflower ever again.
And this: that we too often take for granted the extraordinary senses of vision and hearing, touch and smell that are our gifts—opportunities given us by which we could know the familiar beauties too often missed or dismissed in our hurried lives.
We have so little time in the present and there is so very much to take in and share. There are wonders all around. From our everyday lives, these familiar things may seem unremarkable to us. But in these precious instants in time, if we keep our eyes open and our hearts ready to know it, there is nothing ordinary. ~ from the Author’s Note, Slow Road Home.
Click image for enlargement in black and white.
Certain days feel like pages turned, and surprise! A new chapter begins–characters, settings and plot take a sudden shift–and you can’t say exactly why the day and days to come feel so new and fresh or where the story leads next.
Certainly our stage props have changed such that, in our week away, the forest disrobed to reveal an open fence of vertical trunks where before we left it was still swathed in an obscuring curtain-barrier of red-shifted leafery.
The garden needs no attention now though I’ll be out there later today winterizing the tiller and mowers. I’ll miss it, and it will be a relief, though wood gathering takes its place.
The winter’s wood is already dwindling from a couple of early fires the wife insisted on (though not today with temps expected in the 70s–far too warm for November.) Yesterday I cut into some oak with the saw, and to be sure, the smell of it has done its part to trigger the page-turning toward what lies ahead.
Plot development? Not so much that I can read it very clearly from here. Upcoming, the Forest Watch event at Hollins on Saturday. (And if anyone reads this far and comes to that event, the FIRST person to ask gets a FREE set of notecards.)
And several good things are coming together on the photography front–even so far as to anticipate a small bit of income to re-invest on something like Lightroom (I hear there’s a learning curve–great for long winter days indoors!), a polarizing filter for the 18-200 lens, that sort of thing. I’ll be telling you about some of the places where you can find my photos coming up soon.
What pages are turning with regard to future writing? Will I repurpose “book two” or pitch it “as is” to the couple of somewhat hopeful outlets I’ve been exposed to since SEJ? Will I re-up for another year of newspaper columns or is that too much time for too little return of readership, reach or revenue? And whither blogging, so changed as it is from the first pages. To blog is more and more like a shout from the front porch just to hear the echo off the barn. I realize my rhetorical questions are mostly for me to consider alone. And yet…
One never knows where the first page of a new chapter will lead. After all, we’ve never read these pages before and thankfully, can’t turn to the back and see how the story ends
Wendell Berry Image via WikipediaI expressed my hopes recently that Mr. Obama might encourage the earthcare values lived and written by Wendell Berry. Then the next day, I finished reading Michael Pollan’s NYT letter to the future “Farmer in Chief” and thought how different our world could be if we did nothing else but to reassess from the soil up our agricultural relationship with the planet.
And on Hoarded Ordinaries (thanks Lorianne!) I find Obama has understood the ramifications of the “omnivore’s dilemma” where changes to that failed system of bigger-hammer agriculture will help us nutritionally as much as politically. What energy issues could be more radical and in need of change than how we grow, ship and eat the food that sustains (or damages) us?
Below (from an interview with Time mag) is a snippet of Obama’s wholistic expression of hope for healthier foods, buildings, cities, transportation. What he grasps–in a way unfamiliar among our generation’s politicos–is the paradigm shift (read: change) that will be necessary to the very survival of our species. Whether he can make the kind of Manhattan Project for the Sun-Food Agenda (and in other sectors as well) happen in four years remains to be seen. But we can start. We can hope. We can work to be the faithful stewards Mr. Berry and Mr. Pollan encourage us to be. Yes we can.
There is no better potential driver that pervades all aspects of our economy than a new energy economy. I was just reading an article in the New York Times by Michael Pollen [sic] about food and the fact that our entire agricultural system is built on cheap oil.
As a consequence, our agriculture sector actually is contributing more greenhouse gases than our transportation sector. And in the mean time, it’s creating monocultures that are vulnerable to national security threats, are now vulnerable to sky-high food prices or crashes in food prices, huge swings in commodity prices, and are partly responsible for the explosion in our healthcare costs because they’re contributing to type 2 diabetes, stroke and heart disease, obesity, all the things that are driving our huge explosion in healthcare costs.
That’s just one sector of the economy. You think about the same thing is true on transportation. The same thing is true on how we construct our buildings. The same is true across the board.
Interesting to note that McCain faults both Obama, and indirectly Pollan, for their ignorance of how Big Ag really works. No paradigm shift in view here, just biz as usual.
For those who live in the Appalachian culture, geography and heritage and are perplexed by the sharp, invisible blue versus red divide between close-lying areas as well as for those from outside who don’t at all know what to make of the politics of America’s southern mountain outback, I’d recommend this recent piece from Moderate Voice: Canvassing for Obama in Southern Appalachia excerpt below.
Appalachia is a land of contradictions. It’s a crossroads of peoples, and it’s an isolated pocket of cultural residue. It is a place and it is a mentality. Appalachia conjures up the most beautiful mountains and valleys, and the most environmentally denuded places in the country.
Its signature music – bluegrass – perfectly encapsulates these contradictions. The standard songs come from 19th century Tin Pan Alley standards, Gospel hymns, 17th century Scots-Irish reels, 1960s folk anthems and African American blues. The instruments – the Spanish guitar, the Hawaiian (by way of a Slovak manufacturer) Dobro, the Scottish-Irish-English fiddle, the Italian mandolin, the African banjo – all reflect the varied influences on a music most Americans think of as “traditional” – even if only 50 years old.
Appalachia is a land of contradictions. And so is its politics.
One can drive through Floyd County this week and see these divides in the yard posters, one community to the next; and if truth were known, those biases hark back to deep divide of the Civil War.