In Tune with Nature

This has been another relaxing weekend in Pullman, for the most part.
Looking back I can't point to anything in particular that I have accomplished, except managing to unscrew the standpipe of the underground oil tank the original home owners left us. The furnace here was converted to gas, and the seller said they didn't know about an oil tank, and of course here it is, and I have determined that it has about 40 gal of heating oil still in it, (which means it doesn't leak probably) and the procedure is to empty the tank and then fill it with sand so it doesn't collapse some time in the future. So, I can do all that now that it is open and located etc. It is possible to do all that without having a permit, but I have called to get a permit, preferring to get lots of professional advice and wishing to do it right!
This is hardly a natural sequence of events, very much the opposite, the relic of man's gross footprint onto nature, at least potentially, considering there are likely 1,000's of houses around here with the same situation.
The only thing natural around here are the birds, with the finches coming daily to feed on the sunflower seeds and niger seeds. The quail come around constantly and sing such a pleasant natural song, like tuning in the radio to the songs that were here thirty thousand years ago, even before man arrived (which was thought to be about 11,000 years ago.) In the Fall of 2007, I took a class in Anthropology, the Archeology of the Pacific Northwest, which was very interesting. (And I exceeded my expectations for grade.) And I studied about the Bering Land Bridge, etc., and one concept in particular I wrote a paper on "Interactive Spheres." This describes how cultures divided by hundreds and thousands of miles can and did influence each other in those early days of pre-history. This concept can be used in other geographic regions to identify how disparate groups of people shared ideas, have similar words in their languages, used similar tools, valued similar "grave goods" and developed similar beliefs even though thousands of miles apart.
Turning the page:


Scrub Oak

I have been confused by the scrub oak
of all things.
They have been so encumbered
apparently
With a ragged coat of old brown leaves
which remains. Even now
as the pale, chartreuse
beginnings of Spring vegetation
is pleasantly returning to them,
I am forced
involuntarily
to compare this to my own character.

I.J. Hall
April 10, 2004



Moss

The moss lies softly on the scrub oak
Warming and protecting the willing branches,
but does not like the fir.
The affinity the oak shares satisfies the mosses' needs
more than do the handsome firs,
Yet each of these sturdy trees wears their finest
And gives solace with their unique beauty.
I.J. Hall, February 28, 2004, Eugene, OR.