seven years of good luck after seven days of bad luck

Seven years ago in mid-August, Jude and I came down our bumpy driveway as the new

owners of the farm.  We’ve been so busy trying to finish up our outdoors projects before

the autumn rains that we forgot to celebrate it.

Then again, what better way to celebrate than upgrading our greenhouse and extending

our gardens?  We did finally mark the occasion by eating some zucchini from our garden

with some bison meat from hopefully within 100 miles.

These seven years have been the best of my life.  The bounty of the forest and the warmth

of our wonderful neighbours have brought me a happiness that had at times eluded me

with mocking laughter.  I can’t speak for Jude.  That’s one of the myriad reasons I love her.

I will, though, speculate that she’d agree in principle.

That the world is falling to feces all around us is somewhat irrelevant because this has gone

on as long as there have been two generations of humans to complain about each other.  As

an elder, it’s time for me to let go of such earthly concerns and watch the youngers take

their turn.

However, I do have a worry that I can’t shake off.  Tropical Storm Isaac is swirling toward

the Lousiana – Mississippi – Alabama coast and could make landfall as a hurricane in two

days, the seventh anniversary of Katrina’s arrival.

Jude and I had just had our satellite TV hooked up when Katrina started her lethal tarantella

through the Gulf Coast.  We watched in horror as the death toll and destruction ballooned,

compounded by an utterly incompetent government response.  For me, it was like watching

a loved one perish in agony.

So, please let’s send our thoughts and prayers to those in Isaac’s path and hope that the Army

Corps of Engineers rebuilt the levees in New Orleans good and skookum.  And, to my friends

out of harm’s way in the Southland, please be mindful of the evacuees who might be headed

your way.

Thank you.