Chard----Beating the Reaper

Today is the 9Th of November. It snowed about 5 inches, a wet heavy slush that weighted down the cedars and buried the Chard. The temperature hovered all day just above freezing. While yesterday I did manage to get a small bowl of red raspberries for my cereal, that was it on the fruit front. No more.



But this evening as I slipped out of the wood pile, there was a few leaves of very green Chard peaking through the snow. While many of the plants had been picked down there still remained a good meal of rich greens under the snow.

While it has been freezing every night, the Chard always rebounded during mid day and seemed to still be growing, and certainly remained very edible. But the forecast for tonight is 26 and tomorrow night 22. In the world of chard that is reaper time. While they have not gone gently into that good night, there was no way growth could go on much longer. It was time for the last good-by for this season. Not bad I would say.

The next fresh vegetables will show up in April, so unless we go to the just-in-time delivery of fresh things from Mexico and South America, it is 5 months of laid-away vegetables and fruit. Interestingly, it was not that long ago when only stored, or canned products was the way it was for everybody here in the north.

I do remember as a kid getting oranges and grapefruit in winter, but not much more. Wonder what the Native Americans ate?

Our Cat----A Sad Excuse

We have this cat. We have had him for some 12 years, plus or minus. He was a replacement for the past one who one day decided he was going to go for a walk in the canyon, on the ranch in Redstone. That was a bad mistake for a cat because up there numerous predators constantly pursued the compound just waiting for anything to leave the yard.

This also included humans as mountain lions were beginning to feed on joggers in Colorado. So Ann always had to take along the dogs as protection and some, more 2nd amendment oriented, carried heat.

Truth is, the last cat got out too far and he became a carryout lunch for who knows what. Maybe a big cat, but roaming bands of coyotes loved a little pussy. This didn't play well for me because it was on my watch. Never even found a hair but we did find this ratty-assed thing we now call a cat, or Catmando.

He made it out of the canyon in one piece, sorta. Truth is he was never a whole piece to begin with, just a seriously skinny, disheveled, unkempt, shitting-on-the-floor cat, that never found any affection from me, but Ann has held on to him because he purrs---and does things like sneak up on every thing the minute he is out of my sight.

To top it off he is ugly beyond reproach with teeth missing, hair in gnarly blotches, and the general appearance of being from Ethiopia. He doesn't even smell respectably.

The one thing he has done is survive to the age of around 18 which from my point of view is a touch too long. I am now convinced he will go to 25 and out live me just in spite. Oh well, he is sorta tough but makes no attempt to be civil. Maybe he is a feline personification of me. Oh God!

Banking Today---Unregulated---Revolution Watch

I find it odd that some 40% of our GDP is in banking and money handling. Can you believe that? The handlers are producing nothing, just touching money as they pass it along to the next handler and then extracting a fee. The really sad part seems to be that many of the "instruments" they handle are nothing but made up investments called CDOs, CDSs and those charming derivitives that do not really represent anything tangible. They are simply pieces of paper thought to represent debt.

They may claim to be something, these derivitives, but in reality they have been leveraged so many times that in the end they are really worthless. The sad part of the deal is the "instruments" end up in the portolos of retirement funds, pension holdings, soveregn nations and unwarry investors. Most of these holders have been sold a product that they were told had value, even a high ratings from a rating agnecy like AIG.

It was all a scam, a fraud, a pozi sceme and oddly enough, they are still out there, still going on. The reason being that the individuals doing this operation, this fraud also are the ones who made the laws that eliinated the rules regulating these transactions. The removed the Glass Steagall act, allowed naked short selling and let Wall Street sell things that were not real.

Oh, but they made money from it, they added to the GDP with it, and now that they have been found out. We are all the poorer for it, all of the 99%. What does the government do, gives the dip shit banks bail out money because they are too big to fail. Yup, if they go down, we all go down. Cute. One has to wonder just want our real GDP is, paticularily if we are not really producing anything.

Has anyone been arrested? I don't think so. In fact, Lloyd Blankfein got something like a $62 million bonus last year. And there are folks out there wondering why we have an Occupy revolt going on and they are saying its not the fault of the rich. Dear Lord, what are we coming to?

Fortunately, most of the real conflict is going down in Europe---but it is all the same cause, and caused by the same people, that would be people on on very own Wall Street. Goldman Sachs, JP Morgan have their hand in all of it. Lets hope that when it all collaspes that the blame is put on Europe and OBama will not be the target. Sadly, few of our citizens remember that it was Republicans, or I should say the Laissez Faire economist associated with the conservatives that set it off. Unregulated captalism is not a sustainable system. It is time for a change.

Late Harvest---Don't give up on the Garden

I'm sure most folks think a garden is a summer thing that is largely harvested in the fall. You know, Harvest Moon and all that. What I am learning this year is the garden actually lingers very well and as of the 1st of Nov. we still had a handsome collection of goodies after everything seemed to be at an end.

Let's take the broccoli. I noticed that many proud backyard farmers buy broccoli plants, put them in the ground in May and by July they have a nice selection but by August the plants are belly up, covered with aphids, stinking and telling me to buzz off. Lately. I have only planted seeds and I have not even been in a hurry to do that. Once up and robust in July, I transplant them around the garden in areas where growth has failed me. If the friggen rabbits don't get them, and this is where the conceal carry comes in, they will thrive nicely, get huge but will not flower until fall.



Broccoli loves cold weather, sneaky aphids hate it and the flower heads are firm and most succulent----and that includes now, now being November. I will say, I believe 2 weeks from now, with a bit of covering, they will still be growing.

About conceal carry, if you show a rabbit a weapon, he will depart in haste but unarmed he will linger casually lifting his nose at your miserable presence. "Get out of my garden you silly boy, you two legged swine, you sniveling, flat assed old coot, you gun hating left-wing commie." That is when the heat comes out and he is met with a blaze of fire power. Now in town I have to set up a blind, wear Rambow camo and get him with a scoped crossbow. Be prepared, they love broccoli beyond all else. Maybe an electric fence---and that might get a cat or two---whoopie.

Also the chard takes on a rich green color in the fall and, I maintain, stocks up on more nutrients making it the best ever. Lightly boiled and covered with butter or bear grease it is sublime. Seal oil is also excellent but the fresh water seal population is down.

If the frost is not hard the late variety raspberries just keep coming even though someone told me they don't taste as good in the winter/late fall. I find that to be drivel. They are sissies, sloth-like panty wastes who are tired of picking and love rationalize away a little work. This will not work after the revolution.

This is not all of it. The tubers are still out there, as are the Brussel Sprouts and check out the celery. Gardening is really a nine month affair and I dig it.

Fishing the Secret Spot---a Telltale

Fishermen probably are pretty much always thinking, "What was it really like back in the day?" Just what was fishing like when the hoards didn't have access to every pond, stream and river. Truth is it is really hard to know.

There have been many writers, be it Norman Mclean and his River Runs Through It, or Ted Trueblood blathering about his exploits in Field and Stream, but really the only way was to have been there and actually seen some fishery in its pristine state. But to do that we'd have to be 150 years old.

In my case 68 years is enough to have some recollections but still even then in , say 1957, things had already been altered. However, I suppose I could use that as a baseline because I did fish all the time, but then I was young and had no real skill and only marginal equipment---like no fish finders---we still don't have one as we believe they are immoral.

The baseline is only a 1957 baseline and nothing else. So if I say, "Back in my day we would get 10 strikes if we went out on Montello Lake in an afternoon." There might even be some question as to my actual memory, and just maybe a tendency to exaggerate a little. So presently if I go on a regular basis to Montello pond and only get two strikes on a Silver Minnow, then I might say things are not as good. Generally, this is my attitude. Not as good.

And again this base line is a shifting thing, or maybe it is called the Shifting Baseline Syndrome where one only can compare something to what one knows and not to an old baseline of 150 years ago.

Anyway, I believe we just found a better way to check the way fishing used to be, that would be back in the old days. It seems we have found a place where no one else fishes because they do not know about it and it is very difficult to reach. It is a bitch and believe me, there will be no $50,000 bass boats in there. It is like it was.

The truth hurts, I am afraid. Hurts bad. In a few hours, it is possible to catch 10 bass, 5 Northerns and maybe a Tiger Musky (we did see a big boy). The fish are large, strong and fat. The message clear, there was a time.

A Big Tree That Had To Go

The first time I saw the tree was 35 years ago and at that time it was huge, a huge leaning White pine sitting in my brother's front yard. The trunk was about 3 feet across and the entire thing extended upward 100 ft or better. (There is a dude in the tree for scale)

Through the years the old beauty was a center piece of the northern yard, but it was always a bit of a problem in that cars were parked under it and the tree did have a perspiration problem that left pitchy leavings on the vehicles. Now, if the cars were junkers, then the tree probably just added to the ambiance, the country look, but as they (my kin) became more affluent (I was going to say effluent) the deposits rather detracted from the general appearance, and maybe left friend wondering if they really lived deep in some forest in a subterranean hut as was rumored. Plus, even if a small branch were to fall the resulting alteration to the body would compromise even their accepted standards.

But the bigger problem was as the tree grew and as the winds blew, it was tilting more and more to the southeast---and in the direction of the house. A few years ago, one tree in a similar location had been hit by lightening, shattered and fell safely in the yard, but this one was larger and now over 120 ft tall. It was becoming clear that if it fell, with its massive tonnage and all, the entire house would be flattened if not vaporized leaving my kin in ill repair. In second thought, it would be a closed casket affair consisting largely of parts.

I just kept leaning, and leaning and the wind continued to blow---mostly from the northwest. A couple of days ago a smaller tree fell and landed 20 ft from the house. That was it. Death of a tree, while tragic, is not equivalent to a death of a couple of reasonable folks.

So the tree guys came out, trimmed the lower massive branches, climbed to the top, topped it and worked downward in 8 foot hunks. Today it is gone, cleaned up but not forgotten after 150 years of growth and regal display.

Fishing The Rogue River------Issues

There we were standing at waters edge preparing our lines to approach the half-pounder run of Steelhead on the Rogue River. It was mid day, which by most fisherman's estimates is like going to a night club in the morning, or attending a Supreme Court session thinking that they would make a decision to remove a corporation from being a "person".

Never the less, it was a absolutely gorgeous day there in southern Oregon, the water was clean and cold, eagles flew over head and the mighty forest of the coastal climate framed our setting with elegance and dignity.

We fisherman were dressed for the occasion, decked out in various costumes including vests, hemostats, large billed hats and wadding gear. Generally, we looked good but not over done. We all had fly rods and not cane poles, and a large can of glistening nightcrawlers. We were sportsmen full of intent and good wishes. Ann wanted us to be successful.

While I was having a small problem getting about due to various injuries accumulated doing some questionable activities, like playing basketball, football, and oh yes, there was those five years of rugby at Wisconsin, fishing was still obtainable and wondrous.

To top it off there were no other fishermen, none. Unlike the Root River near Milwaukee(actually in Milwaukee) where combat fishing is the call of the day---you know, handguns, knives and submerged mines. It was beautiful.

Only one problem. There were no fish on this particular day because they were off in the ocean having tea and biscuits. Did I really care? Oh ya, but not alot. I was on the Rogue, dude.


Then it happened. Coming straight up the pristine river was this thunderous roar, not unlike a jet. It was the sound of power, of size, of movement, of America. There it was a giant jet boat filled to the brim with grinning tourists out to see the Rogue River and the few stupid fishermen. For good folding money all of the participants could see the river in all its glory, they could burn up a hundred gallons of fossil fuel while sitting on their cans.

Why hell, for 3 dollars they could have floated in a canoe---and they would have seen the eagles all in peaceful quiet. Ya gotta love America.