white-out

more snow.

winter is a hag dressed in pristine furs, fine silks and velvets. the careful cut of her exquisite garments cannot quite disguise the skeleton-thin wasteland of flesh beneath them. the glitter of her jewels serve only to draw attention to her sallow complection and loose, sagging skin. her friends have finally deserted her, for she's abused her nearest and dearest. there are none left in her closest circle but the dastardly merchants who profit from her excesses. and even they keep at a safe distance, since she's started filing her teeth into razor-sharp points of ice. on her lips is the cold kiss of death, sucking life and color from the land that feeds and nurtures us.

begone, harbinger of blindness, starvation and desolation!

bad toad

i recently read in one of a stack of recycled favorite canadian gardening magazines (passed on by a friend... and i'll do the same when i've saved all the info from them that i want) - this quote; "you don't go from being a bad toad overnight" the author was referring to his own switch from using chemical fertilizers and pesticides to organic gardening. but, it's a brilliant observation, applicable almost anywhere i can think of. it's a comfort in times of frustration, and a reminder that life does, after all, place some limitations on us, that are sometimes beyond our control. we don't stop being bad toads just because we tell ourselves we don't want to be bad toads. it won't change itself, overnight, in our sleep. learning and changing takes time and work.

one facet of my effort to no longer be a bad toad, is to move into the town where work. working from home is not an option at present, and living in the present place requires a 15 minute commute to work each day. i've decided that this is not a necessary evil, so i have bought a little old stucco house in the town where i work. (77 years old, to be exact, with hand-hewn beams supporting the floor. you can see the marks of the axe on them!) As of May 1 i'll begin walking - to work, to shop, to visit friends, etc. and i'm expecting to sell the little truck once the lion's share of needed renovations have been done, and i don't need to haul building and landscaping materials any more.

i'll renovate and super insulate the 'new' place and its small detached garage. the garage will house my weaving loom, drawing and sewing tables, etc. and i'll endeavor run its lights, sewing machines, etc. on solar power. this will give me a better idea how to do similar things to the house, and just how much energy can be got at varying times of the year in my waynorth location.

been devouring all i can find on related issues... just finished The Small-Mart Revolution by Michael Shuman, and Heat - How to Keep the Planet From Burning by George Mionbott in the past few weeks. Waiting for a copy of Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth to come in @ the local library.

and have been brainstorming with friends and neighbors about locally sustainable business... working on getting a directory together, etc.

the sad thing is, the purchase/move will eat up all my savings, so the purchase of a kayak will have to be put on hold.

lunch break is over... duty calls