Rivers must flow...

Close of the Mesozoic

The earth bled under an electric sky

bright like nectarines ripe with life

a soup steeped with spores, saprophytes

and the slow pulse of outsized beasts

encumbered by their own heavy hearts

lumber along within jungle tangle

in fits and starts

toward an unexpected demise

in the clean horizon of Jupiter's eye

this wayward meteorite

sacked the light

and upended in a fine spray of loose dust

creatures clambering for air until

in the darkened chill

heavy eyes stare in silence

and footprints fossilize

while the inheritance of the meek

is quietly established

Transition Towns

I can't stop thinking about what I've heard about the equivalency of the energy in one tank of gas compared to simple, straightforward human labor--of the fetch wood/carry water kind. One tank equals 4 years of one human laboring. Four years.

When I told Cian this the other day, he sighed relief at the fact we had fossil fuels. We now live at a standard higher than any other society has before on earth because of oil. Just so we haven't painted ourselves into a corner.

I got the one tank/four years information from a video on 'transition villages'--an intriguing idea regarding peak oil issues that is starting to gain momentum in England, and also here in North Carolina.

See a video on transition towns here. I love that they bring humor into it--Americans can be either sanctimonious or fanatical when it comes to environmental/cultural issues. Simple solutions are best, no?

chalk monsters

I love this photo of Cian and a neighbor's dog--the surprise of spots of sun shine.

And a lithe alien, from the mind of Luke...

Sam Knob on a sunny fall day

Leisa & I nibbled on mountain ash fruits & took in that feeling of being on top of the world in this odd, magically beautiful place... That's a huge chunk of quartz that I'm leaning on--you can see bits peeping out from the hills in the 360 degree view from the top of Sam Knob, just off the Blue Ridge Parkway.

trees in flight

This week I saw a little dogwood tree crammed with what I think were starlings--there were more birds than leaves on the tree. I knew it would happen, and it did--a huge burst of wings as they darted upward in a flash. I don't think I could describe the sound it made. I was standing only about 20 feet away. Wow.

Which of the birds decide when and where to go? Is there a leader? What if they truly move as one being?

fading in concentric rings/a swoop of starlings forms a joyous backdrop/against the evening sky/rejoicing in the vigorous/breeze and the readymade roosts/of patient trees