Offering a safe haven for climate activists.
A flock of wounded flamingos recently arrived to take refuge.
and well behaved cats
If you wear shoes … the earth is covered in leather.
If you drive a car … the earth is covered in cement & emissions.
fACT: The Livingness of Our Planet is in Danger
Open your Heart and Touch the Earth with Kindness and Caring
Meanwhile in the toMake™ studio we’re back at work.
We got some cold weather and snow.
. . . and I got some new shoes [Fluevog Tobias]
It was the year of the great and overcrowded tomato bed.
… with some basil and eggplant
We had a bounty of the fruit.
What a difference a day makes this time of year.
The gentle changes of the season, the apple tree, the garden and the sky.
The flamingos emerge beneath the bird feeder.
And so many flowers still here.
Crossing the river.
But not on the west side; we are getting a new bridge.Own the means of production.
Get him out. Repair the damage. Restore our democracy. Do more than just vote.
“So what do we do with this? The sanest response that I can find is that our work remains to make beauty blossom anew out of desecration. We don’t get to choose either the context or the impact of that work. Healing needs to happen, and we all have our own part to play in that. If you are lucky enough not to need to urgently engage in this on your own account, then you have the opportunity to focus on the externalized manifestations of our culture’s sickness. But if the healing you are responsible for right now is only your own, that is still part of the work. So this is how I have attempted to square this utterly devastating curve ball of my body’s sickness and everything that came before it, and perhaps this is also a way to approach the great converging crises of our times: to keep moving in the direction we know to be truthful and just and holy as best we can, to keep deepening into veneration and reverence and wonder, and to work to peel away the compacted, muddled layers of hubris and trauma and distraction and wrong-thinking that seek always to blinker and misguide us. Our time here is short and precious and beautiful, despite everything. I don’t want to say anything about hope or about optimism; I’m not sure how relevant they are here. I will say this: Take courage – don’t lose heart.”
from Sick an essay by Cate Chapman on Dark Mountain
Felipe Jesus Consalvos The American System
Do Something About It
Meanwhile in the garden . . . . awaiting frost.
A good day for a walk-about. Clark Fork River westward downstream from Higgins Street bridge.
Vote ‘Em Out !
[Top 20 Banned Books in the US Public Libraries the Last Decade]
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie
Captain Underpants (series) by Dav Pilkey
Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher
Looking for Alaska by John Green
George by Alex Gino
And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell
Drama by Raina Telgemeier
Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James
Internet Girls (series) by Lauren Myracle
The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
I Am Jazz by Jazz Jennings and Jessica Herthel
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Bone (series) by Jeff Smith
The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan
A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo by Jill Twiss
Sex Is a Funny Word by Cory Silverberg
A month away and a childhood of memories and stuff behind me I drove back home this week.
I had a good visit with brother Bruce and in spending time with the estate we shared our memories, loss, struggles to become, and that challenging rise into our own self that is not that our our parents. A struggle that goes on and on.
Bruce and my Dad were great with picnics. We had a nice one at Lake of the Isles then walked around the lake.
During WWII my Dad was stationed in the Philippines and in charge of a Japanese POW camp. In this capacity he befriended a prisoner of his same rank, playing cribbage together and who sketched these for him.
We returned their rings to the earth with their ashes.
My Mother liked her pearls. This one from the 1950’s when we lived in the Philippines … I think I’ll wear it on my pinky as it fits nicely.
I loaded up the truck and pulled a trailer back to Montana.
The islands move upstream in the Yellowstone. Every time passing by this place along the free-flowing Yellowstone River we stop’d to watch, to see, to experience the corridors of movement; water, air, birds, clouds, wind, railroads, cars and trucks, information, DNA, animals, seeds, dust …. all in constant interwoven movement and change.
… and back home to the great tomato crop of 2020.
Today would have been my Dad’s 99th birthday celebration. Instead his obituary appeared in the Sunday paper. We visited Lakewood where his and his wife’s ashes are. This letting go of the stories and the place that formed my early years (1950-1970) has been a gift; a doorway opens into a new freedom and adventure. Lines by the Mexican poet Octovio Paz.
Close your eyes and open them
There is nobody not even yourself
Whatever is not stone is light
Obituary for Robert “Bob” Holloway
Brother Bruce beside the local library where I spent many summer days. A delightful walk I made many times with my late sister.
At Lakewood Cemetery today.
My Dad planned ahead ….
September :: the month the world began.
Colville River, Chewelah Washington, above the Columbia River.Jones Beach on the lower Kettle River, Washington, before it reaches the Columbia River.Lake Merritt estuary, Oakland, California.
Tomales Point, Point Reyes Seashore, the Pacific Ocean.
River Bend on the Clark Fork of the Columbia
Extended exposure 120 format pinhole images beside Lake Pend Oreille
“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness
Travel images of a Holloway along his most favorite of hollow-ways. My first journeys without end or beginning happened here, explorations without time, along the abandoned tracks of an old trolley, starting in the late-1950s.
I don’t live there anymore and this trip will sever the strings that have beckoned me back over the last fifty some years. I left the day I graduated from High School in that pivotal year 1968, but have returned over the years most recently to spend birthdays with my dad. It’s an odd feeling inside and out to know the closure looms. After all I still know well the humidity, the colors, the sounds and the sky . . . and what are you doing for fun ‽
August 6th 1945 Hiroshima. August 9th, 1945 Nagasaki.
Seventy-five years ago, two nuclear weapons were detonated over the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
‘I Saw the World End’ created by Es Devlin and Machiko Weston, and Voices of War form part of an IWM programme to mark the 75th anniversary of the end of the Second World War. Victory 75 invites reflection on the momentous events that led to the culmination of the conflict and questions the fundamental concept of “victory” when it comes to war.
Blood was pouring out of my flesh. I know it sounds strange, but I felt absolutely no pain. I even forgot to cry.
— Katsuji Yoshida - Nagasaki survivor
From the start at Lemhi Pass the single track trail goes north 55km along along the continental divide Beaverhead mountains. At Janke Lake the run leaves the single track trail and goes off-trail on the boulder fields along the divide before it scrambles a steep downhill into the valley below.
I drove down the afternoon before the run.
There was Covid screening and a pre-race meeting in the park in Salmon Idaho.
I spent the night in Salmon; tent and bag on the earth. The sounds of the nearby Salmon River were music all night long. Beautiful music but a short night as the bus to the start at Lemhi Pass left at 4:30AM in the dark.
Ready to go at Lemhi Pass; 7am, sun coming up, 8,000’ elev. start just above the pass,152 runners of which 6 will drop. View south from the 2017 start of the run. there was not a cloud in the sky all day this year.
Race kit, shoes, pack, food, etc. Some will work and some will not it turns out.
You start at the pass which is already 8,000’ and go up, and up some more, and some more . . . then you leave the trail because, I’m not sure just why, and straddling the Idaho-Montana border on the continental divide, you go up some more on the boulder fields and up and down and up the three peaks to near 11,000’. Then you go DOWN a lot into the Lemhi valley in Idaho.
Again this year we passed through the recent burn at Goldstone. After that there were snow fields with soft snow that made it easy to cool down the rising core temperature. I deliberately didn’t take my camera; mindful of this present moment . . . so long ago. I started and I finished. I did my practice running 1,300 miles since the first of the year, staying fit and keeping my weight below 148 lbs. This was the fourth time running this ultra marathon for me and the first time a 70 year old finished the run. There will be others and faster but for now I covered the 34 miles once again dancing along the divide beneath a summer sun blue sky, feet on the beloved earth and rock of the the Beaverheads. JOY.
Shoes off at the finish in the valley 7,000’ below the ridge. Tired and so so very lucky a man to be able to do this once again.
Wrong choice of shoes and socks, I couldn’t get my energy foods to stay down, cramping, lost a water flask and the poles were unnecessary. . . plan all you want but on a near 12 hour run there will be challenges. Finished as the 90th runner of the 147 out of 152 starters. The boulder field to the high point and then descending down; the most _____________.
2017 - 2018 - 2019 & 2020
A performance of DNA.
Young deer wandering the concrete maze following along
The bulletin board in the alleyway at toMake™
The garden in the evening with the flamingos and cat
Long live the ROXY theatre
High School graduation packages in the 1960s midwest called for including; envelopes, invitations and name cards with first middle last names. But instead of ordering my name on the cards I ordered Amor Vincit Omnia … from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales in the Nun’s Priest Tale translating roughly “Love Conquers All” but in the tale it was AVO on the priests blouse if I remember right. This little act of rebellion was not well received . . . I’ve one left after all these years.
Cold Toddy Coffee: a dangerously easy to down summer drink. I use Peru beans from Black Coffee freshly roasted. I coarse grind 14 ounces and let soak overnight. Drip drip drip the mix. Then a wee small bit in the cup, add equal parts filtered water and again add in half and half with a dab of maple syrup.
Found rock painted and inside broken open powered and made elegant then wrapped and left hanging in the shop.
Birthday card for my lovely and generous neighbor using the old Royal. Still works without an update to the OS, internet connection and is on lovely Boxcar Press Flurry. Hand carved stone stamp.
Meena the Cat showing excellent afternoon form.
June Running Miles
Packing for the Run. Not sure which cap and shirt.
On the continental divide looking into Montana 2018 Beaverhead run
Katie hands us our weekly delivery from her farm in the Bitterroot.
Basil and eggplant starts and kale . . . en-route home.
The flowering time.
Trail run along the river trail then up the back side to the top of Mount Sentinel and down the face.
Then a good cappuccino from freshly ground Black Coffee beans.
SATOR AREPO (available as a two-colour letterpress print) is based on the oldest datable representation of the Sator Square, found in the ruins of Pompeii. Others have been found in excavations under the church of S. Maria Maggiore in Rome, at Corinium (modern Cirencester in England) and Dura-Europos (in modern Syria). . . One likely translation is "The farmer Arepo has [as] works wheels [a plough]"; that is, the farmer uses his plough as his form of work. Though not a significant sentence, it is grammatical; it can be read up and down, backwards and forwards."
Working in the gaden :: as the Sator Square would suggest we practice, caring for what we sow.