Hiked up to Oyster Dome lookout off Chuckanut Drive, with stops at BreadFarm in Bow and Skagit Building Salvage.
Maxwelton Beach
Trying out a new, inflatable kayak south of Maxwelton Beach.
Toxins kill salmon, but it’s not your problem
An article in The Seattle Times covers research that finds toxic runoff from roads kills salmon. The only solution discussed is filtering the runoff through soil, which would poison the soil rather than fish. The author neglects to ask any questions about the source of the toxins, or whether all of us should address our culpability in a system that is causing this problem.
This is a classic Seattle Times story – ostensibly showing concern for the environment, but not addressing relevant issues that might disrupt the status quo.
It’s Time to Free Lolita, a Puget Sound Killer Whale That’s Been Trapped in Miami for 45 Years
As public outcry over the captivity of orcas at marine parks intensifies, and as our scientific understanding of these sensitive creatures grows, the justification for confining them for public amusement has become more and more difficult.
The end of capitalism has begun
The democracy of riot squads, corrupt politicians, magnate-controlled newspapers and the surveillance state looks as phoney and fragile as East Germany did 30 years ago.
Bees in the Garden
Lots of bee activity in the garden. Wasps on yarrow…
And bumblebees on leek flowers…
Next Winter’s Firewood
Dan Breedlove stopped by to take down four dying fir trees. Next steps will be to buck, then haul & chop for next winter’s firewood.
Vancouver Island Roadtrip
May ended up being an excellent month to spend ten days traveling around Vancouver Island. Lucked out with weather, and crowds of people were not to be found. Covered a lot of ground – click on the image below to view pics from the trip on Flickr.
November Morning
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance
“If our young men miscarry in their first enterprises, they lose all heart. If the young merchant fails, men say he is ruined. If the finest genius studies at one of our colleges, and is not installed in an office within one year afterwards in the cities or suburbs of Boston or New York, it seems to his friends and to himself that he is right in being disheartened, and in complaining the rest of his life. A sturdy lad from New Hampshire or Vermont, who in turn tries all the professions, who teams it, farms it, peddles, keeps a school, preaches, edits a newspaper, goes to Congress, buys a township, and so forth, in successive years, and always, like a cat, falls on his feet, is worth a hundred of these city dolls. He walks abreast with his days, and feels no shame in not ‘studying a profession,’ for he does not postpone his life, but lives already. He has not one chance, but a hundred chances.”