–460° Is For the Birds
By Kathleen Meyer
December 2018
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Climate change not withstanding, for three weeks now the temperature gauge at the local supermarket has been reading 460° below zero. That’s also about how out of whack my world feels. Patrick and I can’t seem to be decently dressed and possessing the same free five minutes for a Christmas photo—thus, I’m posting two from our recent past. Tis I holding a taxidermied rooster who found a home in our barn (long after its cranky self left the living at a dear sister’s husband’s bludgeoning swing of a broomstick), and Patrick in a pensive mood at our quail crossing. Our backyard bevy of quail has shrunk since we stopped feeding them. Their jiggling plumes and frenetic waddling evoked so much hilarity that the sight of sixty of them in a hurry was helping to cheer us through the ever dismal planetary news. But—they are, after all, CA quail, introduced some years ago by the owner of a new downriver Mac Mansion who intended to fly in his cronies for weekend bird hunting whoop-ups. The Callipepia california reproduced with such abandon, spreading throughout the river bottom, that they began taking over native bird habitats and food. So no more cracked corn! These days, we find ourselves instead overrun by a mixed brood of hens who pedal over from next door—be careful where you step; they’re almost as bad as the wild turkeys I keep shooing off—with ideas of scarfing up the cat food we set out for our wild, spayed, feline girls bunking under the barn. Who, by the way, have wiped out the mice population and are working on the garden voles.

But back to the upside-down, in the close-up. Patrick is fair wore out with caretaking me after a three-hospital stay for extensive lumbar surgery—the last, thankfully, acute rehab. I had—cleverly, I thought—found a John’s Hopkins-trained minimally invasive spine doc in San Francisco, not realizing that there eventually would be the two flights home, changing in Seattle. With my movement restrictions—no bending, twisting, lifting—I somehow managed gingerly to squeeze into airliner seats but twice flight’s end left me sitting in emptied out jets. Each time, the pilot and a flight attendant (who knew they were trained for this!) managed to grab me under the armpits and hoist me to standing in the aisle. Physical therapy continues, while I fervently dream toward next June and a summer of swimming in the river and rowing again.

Acres of gratitude to the dear friends who are keeping us in venison and veggies and house cleaning.
Meanwhile, here’s to humongous good change in 2019, and onward. Let’s go! Let’s go! It’s all on us—that is, you and me. Spread the love, dance with complete immoderation, sing loud (the Great Mystery hears us when we sing with heart and gusto), and protest with determination! Three uplifting links:
✔︎
Watch Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez with Bernie, Bill, and Van on Climate Crisis on The Young Turks. Dynamite! Linked to my Facebook page.

✔︎
Read about the Global Heating case for eliminating industrial farming and switching to wage justice and job-producing small farming. Food First
✔︎
And a reminder, join the fight to save Mother Earth by signing up with TreeSisters, see previous blog post below and Clare’s videos. This is currently our only real carbon-extracted for the atmosphere. In ten years we can do this! A couple dollars a months goes a long way when thousands of us climb on.
Stacks Image 1664

Merry Holidays to ALL!
Peaceful Change and Victories
throughout the New Year!

Stacks Image 1852
To participate, please send me your comment by email at Contact the Author, and I will hand-post it! The auto Comment system does not work consistently enough to keep it live.
EMAILED COMMENTS
WilderStill
Yeow! Rah! Keep healing, we want to see you on the water next summer. Warmest Christmas wishes to you and Patrick.

For sure, we’ll be among the protesters, demanding health for our Mother.
Kathleen
Thanks, Wild. May that jolly chimney sweep be good to you. We’ll see you in the crowds.
BigSkyOverBarbara
I like to think of you warmed by the summer sun, swimming, watching the osprey raise their young, riding your bike, and maybe walking an easy flat Trail. Then the Winter’s healing agonies will be far behind you.
Kathleen
Oh, me, too! An easy trail along the river, to scope out a good swimming hole. All the best healing to you also, with good SouthWest spirit hikes ahead.
skburkart
We had an attack rooster once and he fell to a similar fate! Love Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, we need 100 more of her. Wishing you a speedy and sturdy recovery, ready for dipping the oars.
Kathleen
Thanks, Sarah! All good blessings on you. Onward we go, in every respect!
sandy z
Morning to your n yours . . . It’s so nice to have someone who can keep me informed on the sweet side of life . . . the art work from Eden artworks is sooo lovely.

After reading about dogs pooing in the woods makes me realize even though my dog is wee she still makes an impact on mother earth. I’ve taught her to not poo on the trail but I jus’ cover it up with a rock . . . respect . . . thank you.

The story of Walkin Jim was tender an now I want to hear his music n see his art . . .

Thank you for all you do. Love to you n Patrick an wish you both the healthiest happiest New Years ever.
Kathleen
Did you read all the archives?! Walkin’ Jim’s music is amazing. You will love it.

Hint: pack out that dog poop. Even under a rock, where it doesn’t biodegrade well, it still stinks. Unless it’s fairly remote and low on users, poopers.

Love right back to you and Happy New Year, all year!
–460° Is For the Birds
By Kathleen Meyer, December 2018
Stacks Image 1860
Climate change not withstanding, for three weeks now the temperature gauge at the local supermarket has been reading 460° below zero. That’s also about how out of whack my world feels. Patrick and I can’t seem to be decently dressed and possessing the same free five minutes for a Christmas photo—thus, I’m posting two from our recent past. Tis I holding a taxidermied rooster who found a home in our barn (long after its cranky self left the living at a dear sister’s husband’s bludgeoning swing of a broomstick), and Patrick in a pensive mood at our quail crossing. Our backyard bevy of quail has shrunk since we stopped feeding them. Their jiggling plumes and frenetic waddling evoked so much hilarity that the sight of sixty of them in a hurry was helping to cheer us through the ever dismal planetary news. But—they are, after all, CA quail, introduced some years ago by the owner of a new downriver Mac Mansion who intended to fly in his cronies for weekend bird hunting whoop-ups. The Callipepia california reproduced with such abandon, spreading throughout the river bottom, that they began taking over native bird habitats and food. So no more cracked corn! These days, we find ourselves instead overrun by a mixed brood of hens who pedal over from next door—be careful where you step; they’re almost as bad as the wild turkeys I keep shooing off—with ideas of scarfing up the cat food we set out for our wild, spayed, feline girls bunking under the barn. Who, by the way, have wiped out the mice population and are working on the garden voles.

But back to the upside-down, in the close-up. Patrick is fair wore out with caretaking me after a three-hospital stay for extensive lumbar surgery—the last, thankfully, acute rehab. I had—cleverly, I thought—found a John’s Hopkins-trained minimally invasive spine doc in San Francisco, not realizing that there eventually would be the two flights home, changing in Seattle. With my movement restrictions—no bending, twisting, lifting—I somehow managed gingerly to squeeze into airliner seats but twice flight’s end left me sitting in emptied out jets. Each time, the pilot and a flight attendant (who knew they were trained for this!) managed to grab me under the armpits and hoist me to standing in the aisle. Physical therapy continues, while I fervently dream toward next June and a summer of swimming in the river and rowing again.

Acres of gratitude to the dear friends who are keeping us in venison and veggies and house cleaning.
Meanwhile, here’s to humongous good change in 2019, and onward. Let’s go! Let’s go! It’s all on us—that is, you and me. Spread the love, dance with complete immoderation, sing loud (the Great Mystery hears us when we sing with heart and gusto), and protest with determination! Three uplifting links:
✔︎
Watch Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez with Bernie, Bill, and Van on Climate Crisis on The Young Turks. Dynamite! Linked to my Facebook page.

✔︎
Read about the Global Heating case for eliminating industrial farming and switching to wage justice and job-producing small farming. Food First
✔︎
And a reminder, join the fight to save Mother Earth by signing up with TreeSisters, see previous blog post below and Clare’s videos. This is currently our only real carbon-extracted for the atmosphere. In ten years we can do this! A couple dollars a months goes a long way when thousands of us climb on.
Stacks Image 1890

Merry Holidays to ALL!
Peaceful Change and Victories
throughout the New Year!

Stacks Image 1895
To participate, please send me your comment by email at Contact the Author, and I will hand-post it! The auto Comment system does not work consistently enough to keep it live.
EMAILED COMMENTS
WilderStill
Yeow! Rah! Keep healing, we want to see you on the water next summer. Warmest Christmas wishes to you and Patrick.

For sure, we’ll be among the protesters, demanding health for our Mother.
Kathleen
Thanks, Wild. May that jolly chimney sweep be good to you. We’ll see you in the crowds.
BigSkyOverBarbara
I like to think of you warmed by the summer sun, swimming, watching the osprey raise their young, riding your bike, and maybe walking an easy flat Trail. Then the Winter’s healing agonies will be far behind you.
Kathleen
Oh, me, too! An easy trail along the river, to scope out a good swimming hole. All the best healing to you also, with good SouthWest spirit hikes ahead.
skburkart
We had an attack rooster once and he fell to a similar fate! Love Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, we need 100 more of her. Wishing you a speedy and sturdy recovery, ready for dipping the oars.
Kathleen
Thanks, Sarah! All good blessings on you. Onward we go, in every respect!
sandy z
Morning to your n yours . . . It’s so nice to have someone who can keep me informed on the sweet side of life . . . the art work from Eden artworks is sooo lovely.

After reading about dogs pooing in the woods makes me realize even though my dog is wee she still makes an impact on mother earth. I’ve taught her to not poo on the trail but I jus’ cover it up with a rock . . . respect . . . thank you.

The story of Walkin Jim was tender an now I want to hear his music n see his art . . .

Thank you for all you do. Love to you n Patrick an wish you both the healthiest happiest New Years ever.
Kathleen
Did you read all the archives?! Walkin’ Jim’s music is amazing. You will love it.

Hint: pack out that dog poop. Even under a rock, where it doesn’t biodegrade well, it still stinks. Unless it’s fairly remote and low on users, poopers.

Love right back to you and Happy New Year, all year!
Stacks Image 1253

Kathleen Meyer

–460° Is For the Birds
By Kathleen Meyer
December 2018
Stacks Image 2015
Climate change not withstanding, for three weeks now the temperature gauge at the local supermarket has been reading 460° below zero. That’s also about how out of whack my world feels. Patrick and I can’t seem to be decently dressed and possessing the same free five minutes for a Christmas photo—thus, I’m posting two from our recent past. Tis I holding a taxidermied rooster who found a home in our barn (long after its cranky self left the living at a dear sister’s husband’s bludgeoning swing of a broomstick), and Patrick in a pensive mood at our quail crossing. Our backyard bevy of quail has shrunk since we stopped feeding them. Their jiggling plumes and frenetic waddling evoked so much hilarity that the sight of sixty of them in a hurry was helping to cheer us through the ever dismal planetary news. But—they are, after all, CA quail, introduced some years ago by the owner of a new downriver Mac Mansion who intended to fly in his cronies for weekend bird hunting whoop-ups. The Callipepia california reproduced with such abandon, spreading throughout the river bottom, that they began taking over native bird habitats and food. So no more cracked corn! These days, we find ourselves instead overrun by a mixed brood of hens who pedal over from next door—be careful where you step; they’re almost as bad as the wild turkeys I keep shooing off—with ideas of scarfing up the cat food we set out for our wild, spayed, feline girls bunking under the barn. Who, by the way, have wiped out the mice population and are working on the garden voles.

But back to the upside-down, in the close-up. Patrick is fair wore out with caretaking me after a three-hospital stay for extensive lumbar surgery—the last, thankfully, acute rehab. I had—cleverly, I thought—found a John’s Hopkins-trained minimally invasive spine doc in San Francisco, not realizing that there eventually would be the two flights home, changing in Seattle. With my movement restrictions—no bending, twisting, lifting—I somehow managed gingerly to squeeze into airliner seats but twice flight’s end left me sitting in emptied out jets. Each time, the pilot and a flight attendant (who knew they were trained for this!) managed to grab me under the armpits and hoist me to standing in the aisle. Physical therapy continues, while I fervently dream toward next June and a summer of swimming in the river and rowing again.

Acres of gratitude to the dear friends who are keeping us in venison and veggies and house cleaning.
Meanwhile, here’s to humongous good change in 2019. It’s all on us—that is, you and me. Spread the love, dance with immoderation, sing loud, and protest with determination!
Stacks Image 2045

Merry Holidays to ALL!

Stacks Image 2050
To participate, please send your comment by email at Contact the Author, and I will hand-post it! The auto Comment system does not work consistently enough to keep it live.
EMAILED COMMENTS
WilderStill
Yeow! Rah! Keep healing, we want to see you on the water next summer. Warmest Christmas wishes to you and Patrick.

For sure, we’ll be among the protesters, demanding health for our Mother.
Kathleen
Thanks, Wild. May that jolly chimney sweep be good to you. We’ll see you in the crowds.
BigSkyOverBarbara
I like to think of you warmed by the summer sun, swimming, watching the osprey raise their young, riding your bike, and maybe walking an easy flat Trail. Then the Winter’s healing agonies will be far behind you.
Kathleen
Oh, me, too! An easy trail along the river, to scope out a good swimming hole. All the best healing to you also, with good SouthWest spirit hikes ahead.
skburkart
We had an attack rooster once and he fell to a similar fate! Love Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, we need 100 more of her. Wishing you a speedy and sturdy recovery, ready for dipping the oars.
Kathleen
Thanks, Sarah! All good blessings on you. Onward we go, in every respect!
sandy z
Morning to your n yours . . . It’s so nice to have someone who can keep me informed on the sweet side of life . . . the art work from Eden artworks is sooo lovely.

After reading about dogs pooing in the woods makes me realize even though my dog is wee she still makes an impact on mother earth. I’ve taught her to not poo on the trail but I jus’ cover it up with a rock . . . respect . . . thank you.

The story of Walkin Jim was tender an now I want to hear his music n see his art . . .

Thank you for all you do. Love to you n Patrick an wish you both the healthiest happiest New Years ever.
Kathleen
Did you read all the archives?! Walkin’ Jim’s music is amazing. You will love it.

Hint: pack out that dog poop. Even under a rock, where it doesn’t biodegrade well, it still stinks. Unless it’s fairly remote and low on users, poopers.

Love right back to you and Happy New Year, all year!
Stacks Image 483

© 2011 by Author Kathleen Meyer  •  All Rights Reserved 
Website design by
RapidRiver.us

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© 2011 by Author Kathleen Meyer  •  All Rights Reserved 
Website design by
RapidRiver.us