Global Warming Update

1936

1959

Click on photos to enlarge.

2008: The major differences are high efficiency furnaces, insulation, heated car seats, Gore-Tex.....Wait, where is Al Gore? I think he must be cozied up by a fire to keep warm. If the current trend continues we may have a white Ground Hog Day!

Poets' Corner

The selection for today is taken from 'mehitabel meets an affinity', by archy the cockroach. Archy and mehitabel are in paris, and mehitabel has found a boyfriend.

"mehitabel meets an affinity"

(archy writes)
"paris france
mehitabel the cat
has been passing her
time in the dubious
company of
a ragged eared tomcat
with one mean
eye and the other
eye missing whom
she calls francy
he has been the hero
or the victim of
many desperate encounters
for part of his tail
has been removed
and his back has been chewed
to the spine
one can see at a glance
that he is a sneak thief
and an apache
a bandit with long
curved claws
you see his likes hanging
about the outdoor markets
here in paris waiting
their chance to sneak
a fish or a bit
of unregarded meat".......

(Francy Speaks)
"tame cats on a web of the persian woof
may lick their coats and purr for cream
but i am a tougher kind of goof
scheming a freer kind of scheme
daily i climb where the pigeons gleam
over the gargoyles of notre dame
robbing their nests to hear them scream
for i am a cat of the devil i am

i ll tell the world i m a hard boiled oeuf
i rend the clouds when i let off steam
to the orderly life i cry pouf pouf
it is worth far less than the bourgeois deem
my life is a dance on the edge de 1 abime
and i am the singer you d love to slam
who murders the midnight anonyme
for i am a cat of the devil i am

when the ribald moon leers over the roof
and the mist reeks up from the chuckling stream
i pad the quais on a silent hoof
dreaming the vagabond s ancient dream
where the piebald toms of the quartier teem
and fight for a fish or a mouldy clam
my rival i rip and his guts unseam
for i am a cat of the devil i am".......

That is one bad boy of a kitty. One of his kind showed up at our house last year, and I managed to catch him. We doctored his wounds and our veterinarian performed an attitude adjustment on him for a reasonable fee. He is now part of the family, and follows me around like a lost pup. We contemplated names like Nitro and Taz, but settled on Brat.

Excerpts are from "mehitabel meets an affinity", "the lives and times of archy & mehitabel" by don marquis, doubleday doran & co. inc. garden city, new york

Weekend Steam

These photos are by E.L.Stock, McCracken, Kansas. The home belongs to H.Gilbert. This family lived at Rosetta, IL; Macon, Kansas; and Washington, Iowa. The girl on the far right is Fannie Gilbert, a lady I knew when I was a child. Her sister Rose is on the other side of their mother. They are buried at Washington with several family members. The engine appears to be a Russell from the shape of the smokestack, the rear mounted crankshaft and the lugs. I welcome any comments with more information on these photos.

Marine Ad, Extended Version

This is the Marine ad which made the news a while back when San Francisco refused to allow filming there. I picked up the link over at Grouchy Old Cripple. Thank You, GOC for posting it.

Susan's father served in the Marines during WWII. He worked on the CB&Q railroad, and probably could have served there throughout the war, but he went to a recruiting station with a couple of buddies. The buddies were turned down, but my future father in law was made of good stuff and served in several island campaigns in the Pacific. Three of his brothers also served in the Pacific. One was a Sea Bee, and two were in the Navy. Brother Lloyd was mortally wounded on the Colorado during the shelling of Tinian while my father in law was fighting on Guam.

Activism

One year old bottomland hardwood planting project.

A similar project; ten years later.

Spring planting season is almost upon us. Order your trees now!

Sharpening

Learn How:

The Illinois Walnut Council has arranged for Joe Glenn of Piedmont, Missouri to teach two Game of Logging classes in Illinois. The sessions will be on February 18-19 and again on February 20-21. The location will be in Greene County, six miles north of Eldred, Illinois. Topics to be covered: reducing down time, carburetor tune up, reactive forces of the saw, chainsaw teeth, starting your saw, falling plans, open face notch, sight lines, setting up the hinge, back cuts, wedges, fiber pull, splitting, spring poles, limbing and bucking.
Joe is a certified Game of Logging instructor with 35 years of logging experience. He will be representing the US this year in Game of Logging competition in Germany.
Cost of the class is $150 for Illinois Walnut Council members, and $185 for non-members. The extra $35 buys a one year membership in the Walnut Council.
To register call Dan Schmoker at 217 416-1587; or John Torbert at 309 337-0879.

Dumb Luck or Dumb and Lucky?

I got out a box of old slides over the weekend and had a good time looking at some photos I took with my first (cheap) 35 mm camera. The first picture was in a cave in southern Missouri on the first cave trip with my not yet steady girlfriend. We were coming out of the cave at sunset, and as we came to the entrance we witnessed this beautiful spectacle. Luckily, I still had film in my camera and was able to set up quickly for several exposures. This probably happens on just a few days per year in this cave, and you have to be there at the right time. Dumb Luck.

My roommates and I went on a canoe trip during spring break in 1973 on a river in east Tennessee which was beyond my skill level, but I did not know that when we put in. I figured it out pretty quickly, though. I was in the front end of a canoe going down the rapids which ends at the big rock pictured above. We capsized, and I floated down the rapids hanging onto my paddle. The river pushed me straight into the rock and pulled me down with astounding authority. My final mental picture of the upstream side of this rock is my hands going under, still holding my paddle. It was dark under that rock, but I could tell that I was moving, and I never panicked, although I was a bit concerned about my situation. I popped up on the downstream side, still holding my paddle. One of the other guys paddled up close to me and said, "Just hand me your paddle." He was afraid I would dump him if I touched his canoe. He towed me to shore, where I got my camera out of the ammo box and shot this fogged up picture. Dumb and Lucky.

This is the girl mentioned in the first paragraph. She sat down in front of me at a cave club meeting in late 1972. After the meeting she turned around and asked me if I could take her caving. I took this picture in the spring of 1973 while we were rappelling at Rocheport, Missouri. Her mother saw this photo for the first time yesterday when I was copying it from the slide. Now my mother-in law has a new reason to disapprove of me. Dumb Luck or Dumb and Lucky? I had a sweet great aunt who told me that I wasn't lucky; I was blessed. I think that is the right answer.

Poets' Corner

THE PATTER OF THE SHINGLE

WHEN THE ANGRY PASSION gathering in my mother's face I see,
And she leads me to the bedroom, gently lays me on her knee,
Then I know that I will catch it, and my flesh in fancy itches
As I listen for the patter of the shingle on my breeches.

Every tingle of the shingle has an echo and a sting
And a thousand burning fancies into active being spring,
And a thousand bees and hornets 'neath my coattail seem to swarm,
As I listen to the patter of the shingle, oh, so warm.

In a splutter comes my father-who I supposed had gone--
To survey the situation and tell her to lay it on,
To see her bending o'er me as I listen to the strain
Played by her and by the shingle in a wild and weird refrain.

In a sudden intermission, which appears my only chance,
I say, "Strike gently, Mother, or you'll split my Sunday Pants!"
She stops a moment, draws her breath, and the shingle holds aloft,
And says, "I had not thought of that, my son, just take them off."

Holy Moses and the angels! Cast your pitying glances down,
And thou, O family doctor, put a good soft poultice on.
And may I with fools and dunces everlastingly commingle,
If I ever say another word when my mother wields the shingle!

Unknown

Weekend Steam

Midwest Central Engine Number 6; Labor Day weekend, 2006.

POETRY BONUS!!!

From a Railway Carriage

Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle,
All through the meadows, the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and gathering brambles;
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And there is the green for stringing the daisies!
Here is a cart run away on the road
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is a mill and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone for ever!

Robert Louis Stevenson

Out Back