Foxtrot

Summer heat prompting late night Monday ride, a short quiet pedal with a failed music mission. Returning to a sitting and silhouetted Doodle at a distance, under the amber mercury lighting, mousing no doubt, his ear titled towards a commotion that is stirred by my quiet entry, another cat, New New, ambles safely on the perimeter of the house. My pause evidenced another silhouette, that of a fox, Ruthie-sized, one of two pestering these cat’s owners who worry its apetite might include a smaller cat, although there are still bunnies, there are still squirrel, and our mousers continue a consistent crunchy diet. New nears foxy’s size, yet peanut is another story, said the eagle at the cabin on Ada…

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A tendency to believe

Complicated by the obtuse most elect to trust their instincts
Those same human behaviors that catalyze fear and insanities
To imagine a time when action at a distance was deemed sorcery
Invisible forces are now understood, yet we refuse to indulge reality
Mother Earth could care less about the human species
She could easily shake us fleas from her back in one vigorous episode
As a host approaches it’s exponential limits, as a cancer spreads without remission, our obesities will consume us beyond repair
Ruled by greed that ridicules the impoverished, that hoards resources beyond any one person could eliminate, or could their designee, or corporate partners, or tribe of confidants, that feeds insecurities into righteous power
My concept of fair share is not the percentage rules we impose as an averaging technique used well before globalizations influence, instead a more rationale use base that can be documented, calculated, and modeled in any techno centric data driven society
Centralized power results in self effacing decisions that run its course, as the Mayans before, as the dinosaur lost access to the food needed to survive, we die.
Mother Earth could care less about us, we perish, this rock will remain.
The end is near | whatever

Life Cycles

I am a tree
— grown from the air
—- nutrients and water
—— drawn from the earth
— After I grow tall and old
—- I will be burned for warmth
—— only to complete my life cycle.

Brotherhood (1983)

I see way back,
men who are proud,
with decorated chests, standing piously,
and claiming territories proven by dominance.
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But Envy?
No!
Gazing into the eyes of the repressed,
I see fear,
Why can’t there be Love?
Men can be so divine,
or so they think.
More competition it seems…
I Must Be Better, I Must.
It’s a suicide mission,
Enemies are made,
and Brotherhood is Our Only Cure
— Ddm

Reference: http://www.daviddemuth.net/writings/Cure.html

Twenty-fifth Lament (1986)

I thought my garden would be growing full
but I’m just gathering soil.
— gathering soil —
I scrape it from my wandering boots,
gather the dust from the streets,
sieve the filth from the air
— gather it together —
Then breath my dreams into it,
lightly whisper my spells upon it,
cleanse it worthy of my garden.
— and —
Here it is my life one third gone,
but I’m still gathering soil.
— gathering soil —
For the garden I thought
would be strongly growing,
brilliantly flowering by now.
— … 2011 —
At twice twenty five with one third ahead,
the wandering remains,
even as my garden bears fruit,
— still gathering soil, gathering soil —
With Tina James for Bart James, Louisville

FEAR

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The trees, the trees,
oh so very tall.
But lightning could strike,
and then they’d fall.
Our house, our house?
just cut down them all!

On Art and Communication

Driven by a need to link with the present or future, with communication constrained only by subjective rules, an artist listens to their id, their ego, and creates any number of tapestries which express being, and by desire influence other antennae.

Ode to the Red River of the North

Celebrate the river channel that remains true to its function, its form.
Celebrate the river channel whose locomotion would not be slowed.
Celebrate the river channel that remains deaf to the unnatural tendencies of domination.
Celebrate when nature roars.

On Human Nature and Spirituality

A condition of being human is to be subject to the limits of the body. The realization of the infinite expanse of the physical presents then a condition of inferiority, a nothingness. Cast then a extra-human state called spirituality, where we align with that infinity who is by definition inclusive. In the focused attempts to be extra-human we manage a dialog that allows endorphins to flow in our brain machine giving the impression of rightness, or comfort in some, challenge in others. Like the design when standing on a high cliff, my being flutters when approaching the danger of falling, an attempt to maintain life, our brain machine triggers a rightness of spirituality, where that inclusive All becomes infinitely lovable, or at least when our pilgrimages for truth allow.

On the Behavior of Birds

cardinals are a rare bird in the hinterland
loving the companionship of birds
as they flutter and frown
their beaks have utility in their design
oil seed for some, thistle for others
jaws covered by horny mandibles
no teeth
feeding a high metabolism anatomy
red breasted robins are of a particular interest
defined in their ways of communicating
dance, squawk, squeak
for obvious reasons,
to capture the attention of a mate
and to feed the engine that allows for the continued goal of procreation

Water Runs North

Challenged by flood-related road closures, a recent drive forced me onto gravel farm roads some seven miles from the main stem of the Red River. It was clear that water had accumulated in their drain ditches but had moved through the system. Evident was a suitable depth held for a time with the dark top soil smoothed and flattened into a ceramic like surface. Fields were mostly clear of any standing water as were the ditches, at least those distanced to any tributaries.
Why flash the Red, the Sheyenne, the Maple? Why not hold the water?
Why gouge the table-top landscape with man-made ditches but not use these as storage capacity?
The quick drainage of the 5000 square miles of agricultural land is suspect, as are the addition of non-porous surfaces associated with urban sprawl, and the levees we build to hold back the relentless Red.
What of the prairie potholes that were drained, and not replaced, taking that many more sponges out of the equation of absorption, retention, and slow peculation?
Has the systemically warmer temperatures realized over the past decades been included by the modellers?
What are the real costs of denying that Mother Earth can get along just fine without us?
A design for a timed release of water will allow for us to coexist with nature.

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da

Magnificent is the time we have with those we choose to couple with, built is a shared place, western facing portals into nature, topped with endless sky blue and notable sunsets, blinders manage our perspective, anonymity, sometimes curiosity but rare, we the last remnants of the village carry on, listening, learning, being.

Buoyant Snow

Constraint follows the involuntary withholding of emotion, accumulated mass is sequestered within, anxiety with a near future when past seasons have challenged, but educated. The individual sees only the snapshot that is available, forming action that is self-absorbent, without hope, instead pain. We manage by distraction, accomplishment, necessity, and appreciation for what is earned or discovered. Hard work without intelligence and savvy is misinterpreted but sustains the beating heart, until dysfunction overwhelms. Minute Video

Harvest Moon

Trees older than your grandparents converted to a cord times four, peanut and kyro provide personalities, brilliant foliage, skies of blue over the demise of two, separate days and beings with overlap which includes a freedom to live, to die if the physical is neglected, days where winter warmth is scarce fast approach, tonight Jupiter and Walker…

Venus over Walker

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A disintegrating force caramelized one building and adjoining lot, stochastic and abrupt, shaking the dust off, announcing “too close for comfort” while one breaths no more, explosive energy, I explain to

another about 1974, snap a few pics, board, wave, travel, stop, with a need for peanut m&ms, lost serendipity is when you interact by rare chance, or that intuition prompts, but take no action, eventually arriving in Walker, where the winds blow, country music pounds festively, nearby a waxing moon is accompanied by a planet Venus.

Sisters

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Four cottonwoods grew sided to each, tall in stature, sloped banks, over a bear cage now submerged, the resident three draw essence from a river Red which pushes wide, readying for a morning crest, and anticipating the formation of ice castles at their feet as a slow descent begins. Under open and cold skies Sister Four is no more.

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Predicted Flow

Snowmobiles blazing by, melt started, twenty days until certainty, deep snow melts, flows, accumulates, neighborhood evaporates, only the thoughtful remain

my misadventure on the high plains

On Monday morning, the winds up here were howling. The power went out briefly, knocking out the computer before checking the weather, so I just took a shower and drove to work. My car, restored to pre-recall status started as it should. Driving through the neighborhood, sheltered by the houses and a few trees wasn’t bad, but once past the new hockey arena, three blocks away, the road surrounded by farm fields allowed the Northwest Winds free rein to blow snow that at times totally engulfed the car. I crept along slowly, intermittently seeing the yellow stripes in the middle of the road. The car wandered quite a bit fighting the strong cross wind with a blind driver. I was beginning to wonder if I would even see the intersection 1 sectional mile away where I was to turn left.

Eventually, the pavement markers “YIELD AHEAD” and the actual signs on the side of the road appeared out of the white on white world, but shortly after the turn, I hit a drift which completely hung my wheels up off the pavement. And the cell phone was left at home. Luckily, the winter survival gear was in the trunk, so I grabbed the parka and gantlets along with the shovel and scouted my options leaving my car idling and flashing uselessly in the total white-out. Several more drifts were ahead, so continuing on to campus was impossible. Going back was the only option. There was a portion of the road behind me which had been drifted clear where I could turn around to head home. I just had to shovel out ten feet or so to get clear.

By now, I was already freezing, so I got into my car to warm up and change into a dry hat. The raging wind and drifting snow had already coated the inside of my car even though the driver side door was in the lee. When I stepped out again, the wind immediately ripped open my parka hood and it flapped uselessly as I worked to free my car from the side of the road. At times, the wind nearly ripped the shovel from my hands. The ground blizzard was so strong, that my lungs were at times inadequate sucking against he wind induced vacuum. The Bernoulli effect wrought real was making this misadventure feel like an assault on Everest. What if a truck or a plow comes along while I am stranded in the middle of the road? It seemed rather silly to even be out risking life and limb: I could walk to campus and abandon the car. But I would not abandon the car unless the drift defeated me.

It took three shifts of shoveling the dense drift and warming up inside until the car would back up. The rear window defrost had lost the battle with the wind and melting interior snow so I was driving blind in more ways than one. I had to shovel out of one more small drift in my two point turn around zone before I got the car headed back home again.

It was absolutely amazing how the wind carried snow crashed in waves over the car, much like surf from the ocean. I was all over the road seeing glimpses of the center road stripe to the left and then to the right of my car. sometimes at rather rakish angles. My tires warned me on hitting the edge of the road a couple of times, helping keep us out of the ditch. I made it home, but it was one hairy five mile round trip.

When I got home, the campus had been prudently closed. Heck even the Highways around here were closed and the radio man said plows had been pulled from the interstate between Grand Forks and the border with Canada. Dave wrote me about the remote campus emergency text sign-up. I am now connected to that network.

Lessons learned: Dave’s 30 MPH wind limit is to be prudently respected up here in the high plains. Get a battery powered radio in case the power goes out again. Remember to grab the propane campstove for the worst case scenario. Keep the survival gear in the car, not the trunk. Winter is serious up here. THIS BEEN A WARNING. THIS IS ONLY A WARNING.

If I had believed in Karma as anything but a scam to keep the peasants in their miserable place, my misadventure could have been thought as payback for all the trash talking I had made against the SUV. No telling if that combination of bald tires and higher ground clearance would have made much better progress against those drifts. No matter what abomination you might be driving, you still cannot see anything in the waves of white-out. Lucky for me, I was the only idiot out on the road outside my neighborhood.

Lucky for me, I survived to be part of the winning team ($400 prize money/5) in the Campus Energy Challenge. My team mates were rock stars. Knocking off all but one team before I even had to answer a question. But that quarter final match came down to the fifth question, tied 2-2, I took the buzzer button and faced off against one of theres. “Multiple choice question: Geothermal heat drives its energy from: A) The earth’s therm . . .” BZZZZT! The mc called on me: “A) The earths thermal energy!” Easy. The final round for $400, the kids answered their questions before the multiple choices were offered, not even waiting to hear if the correct answers were in the A, B, C, or D slots. We won 3-0! Woo-Hoo. Pictures were taken, handshakes and hugs exchanged and more importantly, I have connected with some of my students.

Writings by Jim Farrell

Wing Tips

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The air supports weight when aerodynamically a wing cuts through the ether, that same air has thermal capacities, and announcements of unpredictability. Dew point exposes its essence, provoking decision, to fly or not. Lingering heaviness. Awaiting are currents that impress power. Crazy how misinformed we are, how emotional we become. Troubling most is the ephemeral, because we all are but a vapor.

Water Flows

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Decisions which influence river dwellers are located at the intersection of urban and rural living, are made in thoughtful realistic and practical ways where no others are asked to compromise their beliefs of safety and longevity, costs internalized, and the impact of their contributions to the sustainability of the region realized as significant.

Variations

The bitterness of -30F experienced by the human body must be consistent with the intensity of a temperature of 130F, yet in each case, shifting only slightly towards the normative results in a false sense of acceptance, prolonging the inevitable result of maddening variations…

Snow Scene

Quietly falling snow, neighbors which have mostly departed wise owls maybe having been prompted by more tenuous spring melts than us, yet neighbor boys return to the levee slopes speculating that a lighter sledder could take a sled further, challenging him when he correctly answered that both a heavy and light ball dropped would strike simultaneously, are they 13?

deer ears

one of the younger fawns approaches her mothers size – her brother likes his distance, hidden in the bush – staring from a river backdrop, their largish ears smile a greeting, we converse in a friendly fashion from our deck, stellas and ruthies spirits are energized with our verbiage, i guide them in the door so as not to convey a threat, i look back, they return to eating the foliage below; the grass on the levee anticipates a second cutting.

Now May

Gumbo surrounds – when wet, slick heavy mess, when dry, brittle collapse, its purpose, to protect, an ability to suffocate, stop water, the Red did so very much swell, a record, a cooper’s hawk may of joined the neighborhood, anything larger has the cats on alert, nature has its way at challenging existence, posing dilemma, regular grass has a myriad of roots which although shallow span and has breadth, buried deep below the rushing currents maintains integrity, as the eventual displays, those grasses worked to hold the steepness in place, only scarred by remnants of the murky waters – distributed strength is effective

derby week 2009

on plane from kci seeing family was helpful at getting beyond the record flood and I return to the clay dike that was the core of the protection for our river home, and the the city followed through with sand bag removals estimated at four thousand.

the flood story is on that may be best recorded in word and captured as an incredible and tenacious problem solving exercise keying on available resources and this preparation both physically and mentally

no war is fought alone – any three of the front line paced forward held strong and with persistence were indispensable with every twenty four hour block that slowly passed us by as the living room fire burned continuous along the remaining pet, thumper, knighted as the flood kitty, kindled the spirit that would soon prove powerful

early on impromptu design work required peeling ice and snow to expose an opportunity for a sound bed to lay the imagined protection of clay

a small crew was summoned to chip and shovel ice as some pessimism stirred on the clays arrival

as bags became available a line went down at points of first exposure near noon some eight days before the catastrophe would strike

simultaneously mr clay showed up and bobcats peeled back frozen grass and top soil but a day would pass before the actual material would begin to be laid on the skinned earth

from the road first the birm was build spanning it’s own extension into the yard both south and north lines where the connecting span was to be the last component to the forty one foot barrier

upon completion it’s breadth was impressive yet predictions stirred that forty two was likely forty three possible and forty four was not out of the question / a day maybe two was required before additional reaction was possible as the city reeled in fear of the worst and additional material was limited with any height coming from bags not clay

the long sleepless night allowed for the possibility for some additional clay as the core was running a two foot high dike topside on the main road.

Excerpted from iPod (8Gb) 3677 days ago

February Rains

Wind and water working together at removing the white landscape, predictions for high water has some tense, the Red promises to swell, but how high?

Snow Crash

Abruptness, an about face, directions which have been forced now evidence some potential to relax. In several theatres, the characters I have known have seen a dynamic change, and with limited participation. Required breath is mostly spontaneous, but in fatigue, the mind numbs to a stop. Age and reason, both remind that futures have time to meld into reality. Where will that ball roll next, why must it always snow?

Migrated Away

On April 3, 1974 a severe tornado struck Brandenburg, I was approaching 13 years old at the time and growing up in nearby Louisville, KY.
When I arrived in Brandenburg with a small group of volunteers I was struck by the systematic approach to provide aid and supply to those who suffered damage, loss of home, life. The National Guard had erected tents which were filled with clothes and other essentials. They secured areas from looting, managed road and regional access, and assisted wherever graciously. I still remember eating the rather tasty hamburgers, potato salad and beans in the temporary mess hall they erected.
These citizen soldiers were a clear icon of relief for the devastated community, responding quickly to natural catastrophes, and with pride and patience, as they were asked to leave jobs and family on little notice, despite the professional soldier was in 1974 converging on their tours of duty in Vietnam.

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Wikpedia Source

At 13, it was the closest I’d of gotten to a soldier in action and was stimulated to believe in the cause of the country, and the good will of humankind. It is that insistence to help your failing neighbor that forms a glue that propels us socially.
We’ve seen tornadoes skip through the Red River Valley recently, prompting my recollection of the April 1974 low pressure maelstrom that reached widely that year [NOAA]. Anyone whose been close or in a tornado knows the gut wrenching self-awareness and concern that festers just before it strikes.
As with the recent Hugo, MN tornado, and that in Northwood, ND, a large reception of volunteers were quickly realized to aid in the catastrophes, in fact, many were encouraged to register when those who had not were denied their heart-felt intent to assist.
However, the RRV is a flood-prone area, and many of us know first hand of the powerful nature of the raging Red. We’ve seen friends, college students, neighbors regularly come together to assist neighbors they’d never known previously, sometimes laughing while they work on bag lines, and battling together because of that shared social glue. And the Guard was available to help, thank you! but as Cedar Falls, IA was inundated with water, I am struck that their direct role is not realized, as to suggest absent?
This writing then is to ask, where is the citizen solider today, as much of our nation is consumed this spring by severe weather, and I seek any input to suggest otherwise that our National Guard is not as available to help directly with the local wars caused by mother nature?
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