every day is a good day
On a lark, I planted some popcorn last spring. After letting the ears dry for over three months this fall and winter, I tried popping some today. Success. It’s exciting when things you didn’t think you could grow, do. We’re indoctrinated to believe that we have to buy our food, and yet it’s not true. We can grow a lot of things ourselves.
On a frosty morning, the new solar system looks like a piece of art. This morning, the installers put in the production meter to tie the system to our electric system. With sunlight streaming down, I watched our meter stop incrementing until late afternoon. Early in the afternoon, the state electric inspector arrived, inspected the system, and gave the OK for our local utility company to come and install a new meter. The current meter isn’t capable of subtracting usage from our account. The new meter will count backwards when we are generating more power than we are using.
Even the sun celebrated this evening by painting the evening clouds.
No matter where you are, there is something that happens or exists only there. For starters, wherever you are, it’s the only place someone can find you. Today is egg delivery day, and as I pedal through the valley to Edison, I pass the Chuckanut Mountains. These graceful mountains are the only place where the Cascade Mountains, stretching some 700 miles from northern California into southern British Columbia, tumble into the sea. For a mere 10 miles, the Cascades brush against the gentle waves of Puget Sound.
When the sun is out, this is what I see when I deliver eggs. On cloudy days, the tops of the mountains are often hidden. At times, wisps of fog skirt them. Occasionally, the mountains will sparkle with fresh snow. This is a very special, only here, kind of place.
Bicycling home from an errand today, I came upon a pygmy tragedy on the side of the road. A northern pygmy owl lay dead. Not too long ago a vehicle hit it, and it died. It’s very sad, but the owl was so beautiful, I couldn’t let it just lie on the side of the road. I brought it home to give it a proper burial.
Northern pygmy owls have fake eyes on their back to make it appear that they are looking at predators who sneak up from behind.
Tens of millions of birds are killed by vehicles every year. A USDA Forest Service paper, estimates that automobiles kill 80 million birds a year in the USA. I haven’t found a study on how many birds bicycles kill every year, but I would guess that it might be a handful at most. Ride your bicycle, save a bird.
On a warm, sunny day like today, winter already seems like a memory. I must keep in mind that the last frost date here is around April 15, so there is always a chance for a cold spell or two. It’s a good time to plan this year’s crops and order seeds and dream of rows of verdant greens.
The nearly daily bike ride to the post office and back is a good time to ponder what to grow and where. On clear days, Mt. Baker can see all the way down to where the road winds through the valley floor. It’s comforting to know that if I can see the mountain, the mountain can see me.
