New Year's Eve

In the past few years we have spent New Year’s Eve in semi-isolated places… far from the city lights, busy traffic with “Don’t drink and drive” slogans, and the noisy tooting of horns and exploding fire crackers. Even so, there was still a semblance of ushering in the new year, however small that activity was. When we lived aboard our sailboat and were moored in Roche Harbor, a single moment of banging pots and pans, and a woman’s voice calling out “Happy New Year,” was all that we had to announce the arrival of a new year. Here in the darkness of a winter night, there is little to mark the change from one year to the next. Tomorrow will seem no different than today. The beavers will nibble on tender willow branches that they have stored on the bottom of their ice-covered pond. The red squirrel will hunt for her winter caches of food, and sit on a branch to strip seeds from white spruce cones. A coyote will hunt and kill a snowshoe hare. Humans are the only ones who pay attention to numbers on a calendar, who make one day more important than another; who celebrate endings and beginnings. Past and future is a human condition. We have the ability to make changes in our lives, and to our habitat… to make tomorrow different than today. It is what sets us apart from the natural world, and that should evoke in us an awesome sense of responsibility. Tomorrow morning will be pretty much the same for us, we will wake to the pale light of dawn, stir up the fire in the wood stove, have coffee while listening to CBC Radio. But what we do here on these wilderness acres, will determine the future for all the creatures who have no concept of a New Year.

... P. L. Morningstar
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Tiffin Time

Yesterday we made the three hour round-trip drive into Terrace to do some shopping. We got there just in time to have lunch at our favorite restaurant – the Hot House – owned by a turbaned Sikh and his wife, who we are told is Hispanic. There is a blackboard on the Tabasco colored walls, with specials for the day, but we don’t even look at the menu. We almost always order the Chicken Kurchan and cups of hot chai. Anna at the Mystic River Bookstore first recommended this restaurant to us when we arrived in the summer of 2006. She said we would like it - she was right – and now we have even more reason to support this East Indian establishment…

You know all those disposable containers that are used for take-out food… the Styrofoam, plastic, and paper cartons? Well, the Hot House has come up with an environmentally friendly alternative… the Tiffin, a small stainless steel lunch box “used for light lunches prepared for working Indian men by their wives after they have left for work, and forwarded to them by Dabbawalas (tiffin carriers) who use a complex system to get thousands of tiffin-boxes to their destinations. The lunches are packed in stainless steel or tin boxes with carry handles.” (Wikipedia) Bob noticed one on the counter as he paid the bill. There was a sign that read: “Help Save the Environment. Purchase a Tiffin Box for $11.50 (one time fee) and use it for your take out meals.” When you pick up your food, you exchange your empty tiffin for one they have filled and is waiting for you. The tiffen even does a better job keeping the food hot. The idea is still new to the community – the restaurant only introduced it about a month ago, but we hope it will be a big success. It is an old idea whose time has come again.

... P. L. Morningstar
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Courage

Remember John Nirenberg? He is the man from Brattleboro, Vermont who started walking on December 1, from Boston to Washington D.C. (500 miles over forty days) to petition Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi to put impeachment proceedings back on the table. Well, despite the rain, snow, ice, and a sprained ankle, he has reached New Jersey. When I first read about John, I imagined a Pied Piper, picking up other marchers as he walked along US Route 1, a groundswell of concerned citizens who share our outrage at the dismantling of the Constitution by the very people who have sworn to uphold it. That hasn’t happened. Yes, each day there are one or two people who go out of their way to walk a few miles with him, who bring him hot chocolate, honk their horn in support, give him a thumbs up. But essentially, he walks alone, carrying his yellow sign “Impeach Bush/Cheney.” Is there so little courage, so little willingness to defend our basic rights and freedoms here at home? I wish I could walk with John – but since I can’t I do my part by writing about him and his mission. We are in Canada as an act of protest. That decision was not taken lightly. My own ancestors left England in 1635, on the ship “Hopewell” bound for America. So it is with great sadness that after working hard to make changes as a citizen within the political framework, I feel now that my only option is to leave and work from outside the wall. Perhaps I am following in my ancestor’s footsteps.

Which leaves me with a question… what will it take to wake up America before its citizens realize (too late) what they have lost?

... P. L. Morningstar
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Winter Morning

There is no need for alarm clocks here. We get up with the light, and at this time of the year this far north, that’s about 8:30 in the morning. It’s not easy to leave a warm nest of flannel sheets, feather comforter, and a warm, sleeping partner. But I’ve always been a ‘morning person,’ so I climb over Bob’s legs and land on the cold, wooden floor, check the indoor thermometer… 53 degrees, and stir up the embers in the woodstove. Putting on a pair of rubber boots that stand next to the door, I step outside to cut some kindling… the air is crisp, the snow frozen at 19 degrees. Woodcock Mountain is a ghostly presence in the pale morning light. I love these winter mornings. I enjoy the act of chopping wood, making a fire… is it some kind of primal instinct?

I stand quietly for a moment to listen to the silence. I can just make out the sound of a small flock of birds near the beaver pond. Then all I hear is the whack of an ax as I split wood, small pieces of kindling flying off in all directions. I gather them up and return to the big, old Pioneer Maid woodstove. Open dampers wide, place paper and birch bark in the firebox, then the kindling. Soon there is the snap and crackle of fire, and the clicking sound made by the heating stovepipe. I add more wood from the pile Bob has stacked near the stove, and place a teakettle where it will get the most heat.

Outside the window there is a sudden movement across the woodpile. Right on schedule… Dancer, the small red squirrel that lives in a white spruce tree next to the cabin, is looking for a handout. I open the door carefully, place some dried fruit and a filbert on a tree stump and watch as Dancer cautiously comes closer. Her defensive zone is becoming smaller each day. Last year there was another squirrel that we named Tucker. He would sit on the doorknob and look at us through the window. He took food from our fingers… quite a little character. We last saw Tucker in June – not sure what happened to him – squirrels only live for two to three years in the wild, and are prey for predators such as owls, fishers, and martens. So we are glad to have this new squirrel neighbor. A good way to start the morning.

... P. L. Morningstar
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Coyote Serenade

A week before Christmas we set out to find our Christmas tree, hiking along the deserted Cedarvale back road. We walked carefully, the light dusting of snow over ice made for treacherous footing, but revealed animal tracks that we had fun identifying… Red squirrel, Moose, Fox and Wolf. It was a silent world except for our conversation, when we suddenly heard the yip howl of a Coyote off in the distance. Soon another answered, and then another… a serenade of yip howls accompanied us as we searched the forest edges for our tree. About a mile from the cabin we found a tree that we liked, and Bob cut it down with the pruning saw. Snowflakes began to fall in the winter twilight, dusting our jackets and wool caps as we brought the tree home. We left behind our own footprints in the snow and the trailing tip of our tree.

The tree now stands next to the wooden stairs, a colorful quilt at its feet; a garland of red velvet ribbon tumbles from one green branch to another. Gingerbread hearts and paper snowflakes dangle from boughs illuminated by the tiny candle lights that glow softly on log walls and ceiling beams. The tree itself fills the cabin with the fragrance of forest and snowdrifts and still tingles with the wild notes of a coyote song. (Past Christmas – 2006)
... P. L. Morningstar

MERRY CHRISTMAS
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Christmas Eve Beaver Report

While Bakersfield, California struggles with the question of how best to get rid of their beaver family, the BBC this Christmas Eve reports on the efforts of several major Scottish wildlife groups to get beavers reintroduced to Scotland after having been hunted to extinction in the 16th century. According to the article:

"The Scottish Wildlife Trust and the Royal Zoological Society of Scotland believe the animals will improve the eco-system and boost tourism...Beavers are thought to play an important role in aquatic and wetland eco-systems, and on the wider biodiversity of the area in which they live."

Allan Bantick, chairman of the Beaver Project Steering Group and trustee of the Scottish Wildlife Trust, said: "We are delighted that this licence application has now been submitted and we look forward to conducting a full scientific trial of the first formal reintroduction of a native mammal into the wild in the UK."

The plan calls for the importation of 15 to 20 beavers from Norway to be introduced into Mid-Argyll following quarantine. I wonder if Norwegian beavers relocated to Scotland would mind sharing with a refugee family from California?
... Bob
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Candle Night

Today is the Winter Solstice, marking the shortest day and the longest night of the year. The word solstice comes from the Latin solstitium and means “standing still sun.” Many, many cultures the world over performs solstice ceremonies, prompted by the ancient fear that the failing light would never return unless humans intervened with vigils or ritualistic celebrations. Many of our Christmas traditions derive from these ancient times, such as candles, evergreens, and feasting. My tradition is to light a candle at dusk and let it burn until bedtime.

The act of lighting a candle triggers so many memories for me. As a child, I joined in the Christmas processional of children down the aisle of a dimly lit church. The glow of candles shone on our faces as we clasped them tightly in our hands, a collar of cardboard protecting us from the melting wax. We were a tiny river of light flowing between pews; and the enthusiastic sound of young voices singing the words to “Oh Come all Ye Faithful.”

Then there was the first Christmas party I hosted as a young wife in 1965. The house was decorated with artificial greenery, a twelve-foot tall Christmas tree, red ribbons, spicy gingerbread men, and lots and lots of candles… they climbed the staircase, ran across the balcony, were grouped on tabletops, and welcomed visitors at the front door. People oohed and aahed as they arrived, all except for one guest who happened to be a volunteer firefighter. He took one look and immediately made a phone call to the fire station to put them on alert! Everyone managed to get through the evening without setting themselves, or the house afire.

Years later, I found myself lighting a candle for my son’s 21st birthday. We had not heard from him for more than a year and lighting the candle was my way of affirming his life. Several weeks went by and the phone rang – a stranger calling to say that my son was alive and well, and would soon be coming home.

1995 - Candles, candles everywhere. Tall pillars and small votives, their warm scented fragrance a delight. They flickered against the sloped ceiling in the bathroom of my Victorian house. The music of Lorenna McKennitt or Enya filled the room as I lowered myself into the bath-oiled water in the deep, old-fashioned clawfoot tub. This was my time… a time for healing the wounds that come with divorce. Candles in the darkness, the promise of new life in the ashes of an ended marriage… Candles floating in a reflecting pool. The garden glimmering with votive candles. Gathered in a wide circle on the garden verandah, close friends and family witness Bob’s and my commitment ceremony on a warm summer night, 1997.

Peace March, January 18, 2003 “… what started out as only a handful of people when we first arrived at the Courthouse, now numbered between 200 to 300 people. We began to move slowly, peacefully away from the Courthouse towards Park Street, a ribbon of candlelight wending its way up the hill to the Episcopal Church. Amazing Grace was sung, some of us humming. Bob and I were in the middle of the long stretch of people. I looked back at the sea of faces bright in candlelight. It brought a lump in my throat and it was all I could do to hold back tears.

This wasn’t the tens of thousands who marched in Washington D.C. or San Francisco on this day, but these were members of our own community, young and old, who chose to come out on a raw January night to be counted; to say NO to war, and yes to peaceful resolutions. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

So with all these memories, I light my candle on this Winter Solstice. Please join me and together we can spread a gentle wave of candlelight around the world to drive out the darkness.
... P. L. Morningstar
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Christmas Miracle?

Bakersfield, California city leaders have now revoked the death permits issued on the beaver family. This news was just reported on the blog of reporter Nick Belardes "Beaver Family Dodges Executioner." There is no news yet on what the officials are going to do instead. Nick adds: "In the meantime, the voice of the people have somehow created order out of chaos. I think we can be grateful that another little Christmas family miracle is in our midst..." Nick is the guy who set up the original blog that encouraged people to speak out on this story. (See posting below)
... Bob
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Living with Beavers

CNN reports that a beaver family living along the Kern River in California is targeted for death. It seems they are seen as a hazard to the users of the local bike path. A blog has been created by N.L. Belardes called "Save the Kern River Beavers" which has generated a tremendous amount of interest and reason to hope that many people have come to see the fact that we are the problem, not the wildlife. It is our intrusion into their habitat that is the issue and it is our attitude that "nature" is somehow inherently dangerous that fuels the arrogant solution that the only way to solve this man verses beaver conflict is to kill the beavers. I am not sure how we have reached this view that appears to be endemic in the bureaucratic mind, but it is with joy that I read so many comments defending the beavers and ridiculing the official position. Clearly we are not talking about just beavers, but the whole attitude that underlies our feelings about nature and our place in it. Such a public outcry gives me hope.

There is a large stream (or small river) that runs through our property, and several beaver ponds. The main pond is only about 100-feet from our cabin and has two lodges and a family of seven beavers. We knew little about beavers when we first moved here two years ago, so we made a point of learning about them.

The beavers are a “keystone” species and their ponds provide vital habitat for many other species. In fact we have watched bear, coyote, fox, wolf, a variety of waterfowl, and other critters come to the pond throughout the seasons. We also learned that the ponds eventually fill in with silt, the beavers move on, and the rich silted area becomes open meadow for grazing animals such as deer, moose, and elk, and for predatory birds – hawks by day, owls by night.

We have a deep respect for these successive changes, and we forbid hunting on our land. We want this place to be a sanctuary. To depict the indigenous animal as dangerous is both arrogant and terribly misinformed. We humans are clearly the most dangerous of animals and it is the beavers and other wildlife that need our protection.
... Bob

Beaver Lodge in Winter
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Steward who sits in the shadow of his tail

We had planned to drive to Terrace today - our first opportunity to do some Christmas shopping - but another foot of snow fell during the night and we will have to wait for another day. This is the first time (that I can remember) that I have not done any Christmas shopping, mailed any cards, or decorated the house - well, there is a feather tree and a lighted candle in the window.

Nostalgia has set in. Perhaps it is the absence of sharing the season with family that I miss. Or perhaps in this silent, white world I just have more time to reflect on memories of singing Christmas carols in a choir, reading ‘Twas the Night before Christmas to my sons when they were small, putting together wagons and filling stockings, baking and decorating cookies; remembering smiles and hugs at airport arrival gates, and trimming many, many Christmas trees over a long lifetime of Christmases.

This is a different kind of Christmas, sitting in a log cabin surrounded by snow; watching a red squirrel's antics, Bob and I laughing when she leaves us a small ball of pink insulation in exchange for the nuts and fruit we placed on the stump for her. Is this what you call “a gift exchange?” Dancer lives in the white spruce tree just outside the window, right next to Sammy’s Creek. Her midden of cone scales litters the snow beneath the tree, and each day she blazes a fresh trail from her tree to the woodpile at the front and side of the cabin. She stands on her hind legs, front paws clasped at her chest, her tail curved over her back… and looks through the window at us. “Do you see me? Do you have a filbert for me?” Of course we do, but I much prefer to watch her stripping seeds from the Spruce cones – it is her natural food. The scientific name for the red squirrel is Tamiasciurus hudsonicus. A big name for such a little creature, but today I learned that the latin word Tamiasciurus means the “Steward who sits in the shadow of his tail.”

It is almost dark now (4:30 p.m.). We see the flashing yellow lights of the snowplow going past our driveway. Tomorrow we will try again to make it into Terrace, and Christmas shopping.
... P. L. Morningstar

Dancer's Gift

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Common Sense

Fear is emptying common sense from the minds of ordinary folks. We live in a miasma of fear. The director of Homeland Security says "be afraid," - no I don't have any data, but I do have a "gut feeling." Be afraid. Your security is at stake. To what end?

Consider John Nirenburgh. He is the guy who is walking from Faneuil Hall to House Speaker Pelosi’s office to encourage her to put impeachment back on the table. We have written about him and his campaign "March in My Name" before, and we have given some updates on his progress. Now comes this news from Lyme, Connecticut. He tries to visit his old high school, his alma mater, hopes to be able to talk to some students, maybe a social studies class, about the constitution and some of the forms of redress contained in it. He calls ahead the day before. When he shows up the next day he merely asks to speak to the principal and is blocked by the receptionist who ultimately calls in a "Trooper" who escorts John off what the trooper calls private property. He won't even allow John to take a photo of the school. Dangerous stuff, the United States Constitution. Dangerous man wanting to talk to students about it. Maybe it was the sign that he was carrying advertising the need to impeach the President and Vice President of the United States. Now that's dangerous. As John describes it:

I said, I’m the guy walking to Washington (the story had been in the local paper). Pat, the woman behind the counter said, seeing my sign, and with an expression that looked like she had just seen a ghost, "You can’t come in here with that!" as if I was carrying toxic waste. Worse, I was controversial and they’d have none of that.

Wait. Impeachment is part of the Constitution. And so is something about free speech. Are High Schools really private property guarded by State Troopers? Listen up folks. Our security-driven fears have led to this end. This is where fear instead of common sense has taken us.

Benjamin Franklin said it best: "Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both."

Read the whole story on John’s website: Never Too Late to Get Thrown Out of School

...Bob
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Christmas Spirit

In days past, Christmas has been a big event in my family… making homemade Christmas cards, baking and decorating cookies, wrapping presents, putting candles in the windows, and trimming the Christmas tree. With the intervening years and miles, it has become more difficult to share the holiday season. So a few years ago when my bachelor son Jeff remarked on the phone that it just didn’t feel like Christmas to him, Bob and I decided to do something about it. We put together a box of what we called “Christmas Spirit” and sent it to him. Inside the box was a wreath for his front door, a Christmas music CD, a box of Christmas cards for him to send out, our family’s traditional sugar cookies, and a small fully decorated artificial Christmas tree. Just thinking about what should go in the Christmas Spirit Box, brought a smile to our own faces as well.

This holiday season we are many hundreds of miles from family, and though the scene outside the cabin window resembles those on Christmas cards, we have not thought much about Christmas. Food and warmth have been our priorities. I have baked no cookies, sent no cards, done no shopping. In other words – no Christmas Spirit – that is, until I received this cryptic e-mail from my son… “Our tree is on youtube." So I went to YouTube, typed in the password and there was a video showing the little artificial Christmas tree that we had sent to him five years ago. The camera zoomed in on the brightly lit tree, a heart shaped ornament that I had made, and ended with Jeff saying “Merry Christmas.” I guess the Christmas spirit never really goes away. It is like love… what we send out has a way of finding its way back.

... P. L. Morningstar
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Friends

We don’t get many visitors out here in the winter - there is little reason for anyone to drive the backroad to Cedarvale. It becomes a silent world, where only animal tracks in the snow let us know that others have been here – perhaps in the night while we sleep – a coyote, a moose, meadow voles. But yesterday morning we had a visitor, Danny, a tall, well-built young man in his thirties, wearing work boots, jeans, and a padded flannel shirt. He occasionally helps Bob with some of the heavy work around our place, and during our cross-country trip he cut and stacked a good supply of firewood for us – which we particularly appreciate right now. “I’m off work today,” Danny told us, “The mill is closed down because it’s too cold for the machinery.” So we sat and visited for an hour or two. Talked about the new enterprise in town – the Kitwanga Coffee Cup – opened on Thursday - could the good old boys who gather for coffee twice a day at Eric’s garage be lured away? Doubtful – there is no smoking allowed inside the Coffee Cup, and it wouldn’t be the same sitting around tables with table clothes. Besides, Eric’s coffee is free (mostly).

We have spent the last few days close to home, keeping the cabin warm and the pipes unfrozen. With a little warming trend this afternoon we decided to take a break and drive into Kitwanga to visit the new coffee shop. The drive along the backroad looked like a scenic Christmas card, with the Hazelton Mountains in the distance, and snow coated evergreens that resembled the bottle-brush trees that decorate miniature Christmas villages. We stopped at Eric’s Garage for some gasoline – through the window I could see two guys inside the station sitting on chairs and drinking coffee – soon three more wandered in – I don’t think the new coffee shop stands a chance with these guys. A quick stop at the general store and finally to the Kitwanga Coffee Cup. Red and white balloons hung from the Coffee Cup’s wooden sign, and a hand printed sign saying “Open,” but there was only one vehicle in the parking lot, our friend Richard’s pickup truck. As we opened the door the good scent of baking greeted us. “Hi Cheryl! What’s that good smell?” Richard’s wife was behind the counter and told us she had just baked some cinnamon buns, “Fresh out of the oven.” “Great, we’ll each have one and two cups of coffee.” We sat down at one of the tables with Richard. He had remodeled the small building, turning “Terry’s Tax and Bookkeeping” into the Kitwanga Coffee Cup. Terry’s tax service is still here though, tucked into a corner of the room. It’s good to sit with friends and share with them their new venture.

... P. L. Morningstar

Common Good

I wonder how many people know that there are more than three Democratic presidential candidates for the 2008 election? If you go by what you see in the news coverage, there are only Hillary Clinton, Barak Obama, and a distant third, John Edwards. In fact there are at least five other candidates, all considered ”unelectable.” Who decides that? The lobbyist? The news media? The politicians? Would Abraham Lincoln be considered “electable” today? Sadly, the answer to that is no, and that is our nation’s shame and loss. The presidential campaign has become a media circus that focuses upon personalities and hot button topics, rather than real issues. One “unelectable” candidate who deserves to have his ideas heard by the public is Ohio Congressman Dennis Kucinich. Here is an excerpt from a speech written by Sean Penn that addresses the topic of electability. It appeared on Common Dreams today.

“What if Dennis Kucinich, the most deserving and noble of candidates, the most experienced in issues of policy and the least willing to play into the politics of personal power? (sic) What if we can’t elect a man simply on the basis of the best ideas, the most courage, and the most selfless service? What does it say about our country when we can’t rally the voices of the common good to support a man, (who) like our troops… would die for us, who would die for our constitution?

I have decided not to participate in proactive support on the basis of media distinctions. I have chosen to pledge my support to the singular, strongest and most proven representative of our constitutional mandate. Dennis Kucinich offers us a very singular opportunity as we share this minute of time on earth. We, the people. It is for us to determine what is electable. And here’s how simple it is: If we, those of us who truly believe in the Constitution of the United States of America, all of us, vote for Dennis Kucinich, he will be elected. Could we call him electable then? If so, America will stand taller than ever.”

Continuing on the theme of the common good is John Nirenberg's latest posting from his March in my Name website.

“One thing I have found talking with people along the way, especially with those who come out to walk with me for awhile, is that when the conversation turns to what we are proud of about our respective communities, it is a progressive sensibility. We talk of people and events that have inspired us. We discuss the achievements and ideas about human betterment and progress that we share, as the next in line as it were, to carry the torch forward until the next generation takes over.

I got to thinking about our politics at the national level and it is clear that there hasn’t been any discussion of what it is to be part of this amazing American experiment. There is no talk of goals, of progress, or a vision of what we have yet to become. It’s as if we have lost our way. From attempting to build a “Great Society” we have descended to bullying the world and foisting our armies or economic sanctions against those who do not obey. At home we do not converse as much as spit ideological mantras at each other resulting in mutual alienation. At one time we were admired and copied. We were the beacon of progress, of human rights, of striving to become something better. Now we are feared and derided as “Hollywood Gone Wild” but have little to offer as a model for social betterment. For that the world now turns to Europe.”

John is right. America has lost its ideals. And in these most critical of days, when searching for a leader who will raise our country above the current miasma of greed, corruption, lies, and disdain for human rights, the media focuses upon a candidate’s stance on abortion and gay rights, immigration, or their religious faith. Maybe we could look for a person of courage and moral stature who will speak truth to those unwilling to listen, and who will uphold the Constitution and the ideals that our nation was founded upon. There is too much talk of left, right, blue, red, and nationalism in the guise of patriotism. Perhaps we should just elect someone who will work for the “Common Good.”

... P. L. Morningstar
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Political Refugees

It is brutally cold. The outside temperature this morning was -26 degrees Celsius, which translates into –14.8 degrees Fahrenheit. The sky is clear blue, but the snow is frozen icing on the evergreen trees and crunches loudly under foot. Like clockwork, Bob got up every two hours during the night to keep the fire going in the woodstove. I huddled between the flannel sheets, under the feather comforter, and listened to the cabin walls as the logs popped and snapped with expansion and contraction. A weather advisory for our area says that the Arctic outflow will continue with 40 to 60 kph winds. By Sunday there will be more snow flurries. Bob looks at me and says, “Tell me again. Why did we decide to live here?” In the summer of 2006, I wrote a newsletter to friends and family trying to explain that very thing:

"As I sit down to compose our third newsletter, I realize that many of you have no idea where we are, or what kind of living conditions we are experiencing. It is certainly different than my Victorian house, or our lakeside cottage on San Juan Island. It is more like our sailing days, but without the boat or the sea, and with a lot more space. Then as now we struggled with the lack of a viable communication system, and learned to live without much of what we had taken for granted for most of our lives. The difference is that now we are even more remote than we were on Middle Rendezvous Island in 1998. Then we described our location as 'a remote community that tugs at the outer edges of a great wilderness.' Well, we are now five hundred miles into that 'great wilderness,' and nine hundred miles from the San Juan Island cottage that we called home for the past six years.

We own 123 acres, only 13 of which is level, the rest climbs the lower slopes of Woodcock Mountain. Except for an open meadow in front of our cabin, the property is treed with birch, cottonwood, cedar, hemlock, spruce, lodge pole pine, fir, and Douglas maple. Along the streambeds are willow, alder, and osier dogwood. There is a spring and two mountain streams that run through our property, one of which we use for our source of water (and power). We are on a back road, ten miles from a major road, on what many would consider a good logging road. We must cross four narrow bridges, and navigate a series of hairpin curves and steep switchbacks, always watchful for logging trucks, free-range cattle, and the occasional black bear.

We have chosen to live this remotely, fully aware that there will be frustrations and difficulties. It will take time and patience to work it all out and we have plenty of that – well, not always patience. By the time the snow flies (sometime in October), we hope to have the micro-hydro power running at full capacity, a good hot water supply, firewood cut and stacked, windows weatherproofed, and some kind of communications system set up. Then we’ll have a kettle of soup simmering on the woodstove, bread baking in the oven, and snowshoes waiting by the door.

I can imagine what most of you are thinking right now – WHY? Why pull up stakes in a comfortable world and move into the wilderness and all that that entails? It is a question we have asked ourselves, and the answers change at any given time. Even now I struggle to define an answer. There are many. Of course there is the appeal of a new adventure. When life becomes too predictable, I become bored. Then there are all the unrealized dreams of youth, when I devoured books about the Oregon pioneers, listened faithfully to the radio series Sergeant Preston of the Yukon, “On King, On you huskies!” and repeatedly asked for Lincoln Logs at Christmas time to no avail. I was told that they were boys’ toys – girls get dolls, and I did. Yuck!

More seriously, I feel like I am a political refugee, no longer wanting to live in the country of my birth. I don’t want to be a participant, however unwilling, in the politics of fear, pre-emptive wars, and a consumer-driven economy gobbling up all of the planet’s resources without thought for future generations. Canada is not perfect. The controversial Atlantic salmon fish farms threaten the extinction of wild Salmon stocks; there is the threat of more logging in old growth forests, and a resumption of extraction industries such as coal mining and offshore oil drilling. Recently elected Prime Minister Stephen Harper (Conservative Party) walks hand in hand with the Bush Administration (Canadians call him a shrub to the U.S. President Bush) and is pushing to build up the Canadian military, which in the past has been small and for defensive and international peacekeeping purposes only.

But Canada continues to hold a worldwide reputation for neutrality, as peacemakers, and as leaders on issues such as climate change. Every man or woman on the street here will tell you that climate change is happening and that we need to do something about it. Canadian Tire, Canada’s own big box chain store, has an aisle in their stores devoted to renewable energy products. An informational pamphlet writes about the One-Ton Challenge. “The One-Ton Challenge asks each Canadian to take action on climate change and clean air by reducing personal greenhouse gas emissions by one ton, or about 20%. Each Canadian generates, on average, five tons of greenhouse gases annually. Half of these emissions result from home energy use for heating, cooling, water heating, appliances and lighting. As energy costs continue to increase, energy-saving actions will help save money and the environment at the same time.”

And finally, this adventure is a challenge for us to put our words and beliefs into practice. Can we find a way to live that is less detrimental to the planet? Bob likes to call it 'Ethical Living.' I call it reconnecting, for how can we as a people be good stewards to the planet we live on if we no longer feel any real connection to it; when we are taught that wildlife is dangerous, forests and woods and oceans are dangerous places, and that humans are here to subdue and tame nature? Tame? Oh please, save me from tameness, sameness. Let me walk on the wild side, throw a little risk into the mix and I will at least know that I am alive.”


Bob smiles. He now has the frozen water pipe thawed out, more firewood split, and as the early winter darkness wraps itself around the cabin, we settle in for another cold night.

...P. L. Morningstar

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Winter Walk

We woke to some seven inches of new snow this morning. Dancer's tracks look more like furrows as she tries to navigate from tree to woodpile to the front door and back. Given her youth, I can only assume that this is her first encounter with the white stuff and she's doing well considering. We watched her eating some pine cones while sitting on a high root that lifted her clear of the snow. She demonstrated an enthusiasm not seen before. There is little doubt that with the arrival of snow, she has a new incentive to accumulate a substantial winter store. The road crew has cleared the Kitwanga - Cedarvale Backroad into town, so later on I will take the Jeep for a mail run and a general store re-supply of our own.

Today we have a clear blue sky with tremendous views of snow-covered mountains in all directions. No wind, and a slightly warmer temperature. A little more snow and we will be able to do some snowshoeing. I found coyote tracks as I wandered out to the front of the cabin this morning. Yesterday I was told of a moose that was seen standing at our front gate. Last year we saw a wolf just after Christmas and Morningstar got a picture of it as it walked out of the woods by the beaver pond, and crossed the meadow to the woods on the far side. It was a day we will not soon forget.

Speaking of cold weather and walking, here is an update on John Nirenberg, the Vermont man who is walking from Boston to Washington D.C. calling for impeachment to be put back “on” the table. He will deliver a petition signed by impeachment supporters that he has collected along his route.

MARCH IN MY NAME, Progress Report
From Patriots Stadium to Pawtucket, RI
December 4th, 2007 – John Nirenberg’s posting

"A cold but dry day allowed us to make good mileage to the gates of Pawtucket, RI We were joined by Frank, from Mansfield, MA, an articulate, passionate advocate of impeachment. It was good to have a new companion for about two miles of the journey and he kept the pace without missing a beat. Route 1 was filled with holiday shoppers, commuters and the usual drone of passing trucks on their way to deliveries and pick-ups. There were only a few tight spots that drove us off the road into the brush but we still managed to hold our signs high and they were clearly visible. There was lots of support along the way and as in the blogspace below a few who disagreed. They were in a very small minority.

Tomorrow, Wednesday, we pick up the trail on U.S. Route 1 at the Pawtucket town line. Come along. The fun starts at 9:00!"

The journey from Boston to Washington D.C. is approximately 500 miles. As someone commented on John's website, "He’ll still be walking in January. Don’t let John’s sacrifice go unnoticed or in vain. This can be a big story, and we are the ones who need to make it happen."

Bob and Morningstar

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First Snow

We are having the first real snow of the year. Our cabin is snug and with the help of our friends, we have a good supply of wood for our stove. The outside temperatures have been hovering in the - 14 to - 16 C range for the last several days. The road into town is not really passable right now, so we have been spending our time reading and writing. We have also been playing host to a few of the birds over-wintering here - and a small, young red squirrel that comes to the cabin door in the morning for a handout from our stash of hazelnuts, or a piece of freshly baked sourdough bread. We have named her "Dancer" because, well, she dances as she waits in the new snow for us to notice her. The first snow is always a special time, a magic time as we all adjust to the new season. Which reminds me of one of my favorite poems by Morningstar which I am posting here:

FIRST SNOW

It came quietly while I slept
In the cold dark hours of night
A gathering of frozen droplets
High above the cabin and
Mountains near
They took their time,
Transformations always do,
But there were those
Impatient to begin
And if I had been looking
I would have seen them
Drifting softly to the ground
Ephemeral loners, one here, one there
Soft, white crystalline flakes
Disappearing on a stalk of dried grass
Out of sight on the shingle roof
It takes more than one
To change the world


And in a rush
They came
In drifts and flurries
To dust the trees with powder
Cover the frozen ground,
And the jumbled pile of cedar logs
Like icing on a cake
When I opened my eyes
In the first dim light of morning
Everything had changed
Yesterday’s bare birch branches
Now sparkled, interwoven
Like a fine filigree lace
Evergreen boughs dipped low
Under the weight of October snow
That hides the unsightly
From my eyes
Hushed in a blanket
Of pristine white
Autumn turned to winter
In the space of a night

...P. L. Morningstar
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March in My Name

Stopping in at the Blue Moose Coffee House at the end of our cross-country journey, owner Wes Bergmann asked if we had found hope. I said, “Yes, we found hope here and there with individuals and small communities along the way.” Wes shook his head, “It shouldn’t be so hard, should it?” I agreed. It shouldn’t be something that we had to travel 15,000 miles to find, but we did.

We found places like Anapolis Royal in Nova Scotia, and Sackville, New Brunswick; small business owners like Wes at the Blue Moose Coffee House, Carson Carrah’s Bakery in Maple Creek, Saskatchewan, Mom’s Café on St. Joseph Island, Ontario, and Brad Goedkoop’s Kingfisher Woodworks in Wilder, Vermont. But the brightest spot of hope for us was the State of Vermont – independent minded, anti-development, pro small farms and rural neighborhoods, and a hotbed for social and political activism. There is even a movement going on to secede from the United States. 'Second Vermont Republic' is a nonviolent citizens' network and think tank committed to the return of Vermont to its status as an independent republic. Quite an undertaking. Even more impressive is that through the Town Meeting tradition, more than 30 Vermont towns have debated and passed resolutions for the impeachment of President Bush and his administration. One spokesperson said, "This is clearly not a cry of protest, but the start of action — an impeachment insurrection that will lead to the reclamation of our Constitution, Vermonters are angry and energized. We are taking the power that is sovereign in us and will use it to restore the Constitution. We will show the world that America has not sunk to the depths of violent madness that is the Bush administration."

And if I doubted that one person could make a difference, my hopes were renewed on Saturday with this news story, which has been covered by ABC, CBS, MSNBC, and many other major news sources:: VERMONT MAN HITS ROAD TO LOBBY FOR IMPEACHMENT. John Nirenberg, a 60-year-old author and academic from Brattleboro, VT plans to walk from Boston to Washington, D.C., to confront House Speaker Nancy Pelosi in hopes of persuading Congress to take up the impeachment of President Bush and Vice President Cheney. Wearing a 'Save the Constitution, Impeach Bush and Cheney,' sandwich-board style sign, Nirenberg hopes to rally support for an issue Pelosi has said is no longer on the table. “This is about satisfying my conscience. I just don’t want to be the guy who says in five years that I regret not having stood up and said something. I’m walking from Faneuil Hall to House Speaker Pelosi’s office to encourage her to put impeachment 'back on the table.' Can’t come with me? I’ll march in your name.” He starts his march from Boston today. His website, MARCH IN MY NAME, tells how we can all take part in his effort. We have signed his petition online, and given our full support to this urgent issue. We cannot stand by and watch the destruction of our nation. As John Nirenberg says, “This is our duty as citizens, our duty to what is left of our good old-fashioned American idealism and our duty to future generations.” Bob added his own personal message to the petition, which reads as follows:

Open Letter to Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi:

There is a major irony in the fact that senior members of the Democratic Party are refusing to even consider the possibility of impeachment. There has never been a more inept, destructive and corrupt administration in the history of the United States; there has never been so much damage done to the constitution, the civil rights of the people, the balance of powers, and the reputation of this country abroad; add to that this administrations engagement in an illegal war, the threat of another preemptive war, the responsibility for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of civilians, the rape of our economy, and so much more, and yet the one remedy given by the constitution is "off the table". What insulting nonsense. If not now, when would be a more appropriate time Ms. Pelosi? Are we really to believe that the exercise of this constitutional prerogative is somehow inconvenient?

If you are in fact an elected representative of the people, then I ask that you hear our voices, and that the unusual notion of common sense be brought to bear on this moment of history. You have it in your power to stop this administration from further destruction, and to let our people and the people of the world know that this chapter of our history is anathema, that as Americans we reject these people and their foul deeds. If you cannot find either the wisdom or the courage to act, then at least have the decency to step down and let someone who does have the chair. ... Bob Weimer

We Are The Ones We Have Been Waiting For

When Arctic storms whip down into the Midwest like they have over the past few days, it usually means that we in northern B.C. also get a blast of frigid air called an ‘Arctic outflow.’ Cold Arctic air comes down from the north and gets trapped on the western side of the Rockies. As more cold air pushes down, this parcel of air is pushed further south and forced into the valleys that are normally filled with mild moist air off the Pacific, causing drastic changes in temperature and wind-chill factors. That’s the scientific description. The off-the-grid log cabin resident’s description of an Arctic outflow goes something like this: splitting firewood – lots of it, getting up in the middle of the night to keep the fire going in the woodstove, letting the creek trickle through our kitchen faucet to avoid freezing, covering the windows with quilt batting, bundling up in wool shirts and down vests, checking the outside temperature – and the inside temperature (yesterday morning it was 45-degrees Fahrenheit inside the cabin), and putting a few filberts on a stump for our red squirrel neighbor, But so far, this winter has been mild compared to last year, which was the hardest winter this area of B.C. has experienced in decades. Unpredictable and unprecedented weather – all a part of global climate change.

And speaking of climate change, The New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman had an excellent piece of “good news” reporting on climate change called, THE PEOPLE WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR - about positive action rather than pointless debate. First, he reports that Google announced last week that it was going to invest millions of dollars to develop its own energy business — the goal, to produce one gigawatt of renewable energy capacity. Its primary focus, said Google.org’s energy expert, Dan Reicher, will be to advance new solar thermal, geothermal and wind solutions that will be cheaper than coal and could power all of San Francisco. Then Friedman mentions three engineering undergrads who helped launch the Vehicle Design Summit — a global, open-source, collaborative effort, managed by M.I.T. students, that has 25 college teams around the world working together to build a plug-in electric hybrid within three years. They’re not waiting for G.M. Their goal, they explain on their Web site, is “to identify the key characteristics of events like the race to the moon and then transpose this energy, passion, focus and urgency” on catalyzing a global team to build a clean car. Friedman ends by writing, “I just love their tag line. It’s what gives me hope: We are the people we have been waiting for.”

A side note: The phrase “We are the ones we’ve been waiting for,” has been attributed by some sources to the Hopi Elders.
... P.L. Morningstar