I`m going to do something illegal this weekend, and I`m going to do it with gusto! I`m going to walk into the forest with my family and chop down a small Christmas tree and bring it home. And all with out a permit (gasp)!
I fully believe in my right to do this. First of all, I believe that all plants are put on this earth for my use. I believe I have every right to take a tree from crown land once a year, and would be willing to defend my choice in a court of law should anyone have a problem with it. I also believe in my right to celebrate the ancient pagan tradition of decorating a tree for the solstice, which makes this a religious right as well.
As far as paying the government for a permit, I don`t believe I should have to. The government refused to send me my child tax money until I jump through their hoops, and delayed me getting this money before Christmas when everybody else`s money came in on the 13th. There really was no reason for the delay, and all it accomplished was to add more stress to a family that is already struggling financially. These are the kind of decisions our government makes.
The government may not trust its citizens, but I trust my ability to use the earth`s resources wisely, without having the government police my use of plants (trees or any other type of plants). A corporation or oil company is somehow allowed to rip up hundreds of acres of boreal forest and desecrate the land, but the citizens are not allowed to go out into nature and pick a tree for their holiday celebrations? I can`t agree with this.
So, as an act of civil disobedience, I`m going to pick a Christmas tree from the forest. And I`m going to have a good time doing it. I`m going to teach my children how to pick a Christmas tree. I`ll probably even post pictures.
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Friday, December 14, 2012
Saturday, August 20, 2011
The Big Move
I think last night my baby moved down a bit. Not all the way down, as in when the baby's head engages in the pelvis before labor, but down enough for me to wake up feeling different. Suddenly when I sit down, I feel my big belly on my legs. It's a good thing, really, because this kid has been kicking me in the ribs a lot lately. There was a lot of movement and mild uterine contractions yesterday evening, so now I know why. Besides that, it was just one of those little reminders that one of these days will be the big one, the one where baby moves down and out. Six weeks to go, more or less, and time is flying by.
But oddly enough, I don't think about labor a whole lot. My life and my thoughts have been very occupied with other things. The sun is just coming up, and as it gets lighter outside, the rooster next door starts his morning routine. Next I'll be hearing the baby horse on the other side, trying to wake up her mom and everybody else with her stomping. And I sit in between, in the one room loft apartment of a barn, with my husband in our big bed to my left, and my kids in the bunk bed to my right. Downstairs I have the basic amenities, a small kitchen, a bathroom, a place for my armchair, which my family recently admitted is comfy despite its ugliness. The scenery is a contrast to my big house in the suburbs, where I was until two months ago, when I started this move, and now when I go into the city, it feels so cramped, so many strangers everywhere, so busy.
Yesterday the kids turned around to find a deer in the driveway, standing right behind them. Earlier this week my daughter spent all afternoon picking wild raspberries, only to come back with none, because I guess she ate them all on her walk home. Who can blame her? Across the road a ways, two rivers meet. One is fast and cold, the other slow, warmer and deeper. We often go swimming there in the heat of the afternoon, and I find that in the river, all the tension in my body is washed downstream, and I emerge feeling like a new person, relaxed and energized.
But the mornings are getting colder, and in the foothills, frost is already appearing. Soon summer will be over, and river swims will have to wait until next year. As I set up my little farm and settle into life here, my thoughts drift to the near future. My fall preparations, bring my tomatoes inside to ripen, set up garden beds for next year, plant garlic. Then soon after, set up my birthing pool near the fireplace downstairs, have a baby, breast feed. Everything revolves around the passing of time. A season is changing in my life, which brings me to a new place, and whatever else I will learn while I am here, time will tell.
But oddly enough, I don't think about labor a whole lot. My life and my thoughts have been very occupied with other things. The sun is just coming up, and as it gets lighter outside, the rooster next door starts his morning routine. Next I'll be hearing the baby horse on the other side, trying to wake up her mom and everybody else with her stomping. And I sit in between, in the one room loft apartment of a barn, with my husband in our big bed to my left, and my kids in the bunk bed to my right. Downstairs I have the basic amenities, a small kitchen, a bathroom, a place for my armchair, which my family recently admitted is comfy despite its ugliness. The scenery is a contrast to my big house in the suburbs, where I was until two months ago, when I started this move, and now when I go into the city, it feels so cramped, so many strangers everywhere, so busy.
Yesterday the kids turned around to find a deer in the driveway, standing right behind them. Earlier this week my daughter spent all afternoon picking wild raspberries, only to come back with none, because I guess she ate them all on her walk home. Who can blame her? Across the road a ways, two rivers meet. One is fast and cold, the other slow, warmer and deeper. We often go swimming there in the heat of the afternoon, and I find that in the river, all the tension in my body is washed downstream, and I emerge feeling like a new person, relaxed and energized.
But the mornings are getting colder, and in the foothills, frost is already appearing. Soon summer will be over, and river swims will have to wait until next year. As I set up my little farm and settle into life here, my thoughts drift to the near future. My fall preparations, bring my tomatoes inside to ripen, set up garden beds for next year, plant garlic. Then soon after, set up my birthing pool near the fireplace downstairs, have a baby, breast feed. Everything revolves around the passing of time. A season is changing in my life, which brings me to a new place, and whatever else I will learn while I am here, time will tell.
Monday, January 17, 2011
If Birds Were Humans
I am a mother bird. My eggs just hatched. I have three new nestlings, and I am feeling a little overwhelmed because these are my first. They are looking a little slimy and scrawny, but they are mine, they will grow up to look like me. They are now squawking and wiggling around and drawing a lot of attention to us. The other mother birds are starting to stare. Gosh these kids sure are loud! I try to quiet them down, but they keep on squawking. I suppose they are hungry. The other birds are waiting to watch me feed them. If I can't feed them like a mother bird should, they will think I am not fit to be a bird. The squawking is getting louder. I am so nervous I feel I might puke! Woah, yuck! I just puked in my beak a little. This morning's breakfast of bugs tasted a lot better the first time. As I open my beak, the slimy little squawkers nearly jump down my throat. They are eating the bug-puke! Gross. So this is motherhood.
My beak is emptied, and the nestlings are quieting down. I figure after all that hatching, I am in need of a bird bath. The little birdies are curled up in the nest looking like three little furry balls. I fly away, I need to clear my head. That was the strangest thing I've ever done. I see a puddle with some worms in it, and stop for a snack. Then I head over to my favorite little bush, which has just gone to seed. I am famished! I guess that makes sense, since breakfast didn't go down so well. But I am feeling more refreshed in no time, and I head back to the nest, thinking maybe I'll get a nap while the birdies are still asleep.
As I approach my nest, I hear a horrible racket. Oh no! All three nestlings are crying bloody murder and waving their wings about. Insanity has set in. There is no calming them. I wonder how long they've been doing this, and I look around to see if any of the other mother birds have noticed. I notice one eyeing me in the tree next door. She's heard the commotion, and she's giving me that look. I try putting my wings around the birdies. I talk softly to them, "It's all right little birds, hush, hush. I just went for a little fly, I didn't go far." But it's no use. If they don't cut it out, some one's going to report me to bird services. The whole thing is making me feel sick all over again, and, oh there we go. My snack of worms and seeds is in my beak. Again the little monsters stick their beaks right in there and gobble the mushy mess right up. Then, just as suddenly, silence. They are curled up in the nest again, like there was never any problem in the first place.
So, off I go, to get myself some thing to eat, again. Down at the puddle I meet my friend, who hatched four birdies last week. "Did your eggs hatch yet?" she asks.
"Yes, this morning" I answer "they sure take a lot out of you." I wasn't sure if I was referring to the energy, or the puke.
"I know" she says. "I found regurgitation too much for me. I just couldn't handle it."
"That's all I've been doing since they hatched. But, that's the way it is, I guess. It's only for a few weeks."
"Oh, I'm already done with that. I didn't have enough puke to go around, and they were hungry again after twenty minutes."
"I thought that was normal" I pictured my own nestlings, and how they had been so hungry after only ten minutes. "But what other choice do we have?"
"Oh well, regurgitation is best for nestlings, don't get me wrong, but I just couldn't live like that. All I did was eat and puke! I started giving them mashed food from my talons. It's SO much easier!"
"Really? Don't they need the bacteria from your intestine to pollinate their intestines?"
"Oh, that's what the regurgitation fanatics say. They think every mother bird should regurgitate. But this is the way that is best for me, and my nestlings are coming along just fine. Besides, in another week, they'll be getting their own food."
As I finish my worms, I think about what my friend said. I return to my nest, and my birdies are just waking up. Up comes the puke, a little easier this time. The nestlings practically inhale it, and go back to sleep. I was tired, I was hungry, I was wondering if it was really worth it. Would I have enough puke? Should I consider this new way of feeding? I don't want to be called a "regurgitation fanatic", but it seems that, as a species, birds have thrived with regurgitation.
So I fly away to get more food, and I hope maybe I'll meet some birds that do regurgitate. Maybe they can give me some helpful pointers. It would probably help just to know that I'm not the only bird out there doing this. I'm learning that raising nestlings is not easy, and I'd like to have some other birds around.
I return to my nest, thinking about a nap. The little birdies are still asleep, if only for a moment. I curl up next to them, and fall asleep. Soon I can feel them start to stir. I don't want to wake up just yet, so I quickly regurgitate and open my beak. Softly, the sleepy little birds take their food and in moments they are asleep again. As I fall asleep again, I reflect on my new role in life. Someday, these little birds will leave my nest, but I'm not ready for that just yet.
My beak is emptied, and the nestlings are quieting down. I figure after all that hatching, I am in need of a bird bath. The little birdies are curled up in the nest looking like three little furry balls. I fly away, I need to clear my head. That was the strangest thing I've ever done. I see a puddle with some worms in it, and stop for a snack. Then I head over to my favorite little bush, which has just gone to seed. I am famished! I guess that makes sense, since breakfast didn't go down so well. But I am feeling more refreshed in no time, and I head back to the nest, thinking maybe I'll get a nap while the birdies are still asleep.
As I approach my nest, I hear a horrible racket. Oh no! All three nestlings are crying bloody murder and waving their wings about. Insanity has set in. There is no calming them. I wonder how long they've been doing this, and I look around to see if any of the other mother birds have noticed. I notice one eyeing me in the tree next door. She's heard the commotion, and she's giving me that look. I try putting my wings around the birdies. I talk softly to them, "It's all right little birds, hush, hush. I just went for a little fly, I didn't go far." But it's no use. If they don't cut it out, some one's going to report me to bird services. The whole thing is making me feel sick all over again, and, oh there we go. My snack of worms and seeds is in my beak. Again the little monsters stick their beaks right in there and gobble the mushy mess right up. Then, just as suddenly, silence. They are curled up in the nest again, like there was never any problem in the first place.
So, off I go, to get myself some thing to eat, again. Down at the puddle I meet my friend, who hatched four birdies last week. "Did your eggs hatch yet?" she asks.
"Yes, this morning" I answer "they sure take a lot out of you." I wasn't sure if I was referring to the energy, or the puke.
"I know" she says. "I found regurgitation too much for me. I just couldn't handle it."
"That's all I've been doing since they hatched. But, that's the way it is, I guess. It's only for a few weeks."
"Oh, I'm already done with that. I didn't have enough puke to go around, and they were hungry again after twenty minutes."
"I thought that was normal" I pictured my own nestlings, and how they had been so hungry after only ten minutes. "But what other choice do we have?"
"Oh well, regurgitation is best for nestlings, don't get me wrong, but I just couldn't live like that. All I did was eat and puke! I started giving them mashed food from my talons. It's SO much easier!"
"Really? Don't they need the bacteria from your intestine to pollinate their intestines?"
"Oh, that's what the regurgitation fanatics say. They think every mother bird should regurgitate. But this is the way that is best for me, and my nestlings are coming along just fine. Besides, in another week, they'll be getting their own food."
As I finish my worms, I think about what my friend said. I return to my nest, and my birdies are just waking up. Up comes the puke, a little easier this time. The nestlings practically inhale it, and go back to sleep. I was tired, I was hungry, I was wondering if it was really worth it. Would I have enough puke? Should I consider this new way of feeding? I don't want to be called a "regurgitation fanatic", but it seems that, as a species, birds have thrived with regurgitation.
So I fly away to get more food, and I hope maybe I'll meet some birds that do regurgitate. Maybe they can give me some helpful pointers. It would probably help just to know that I'm not the only bird out there doing this. I'm learning that raising nestlings is not easy, and I'd like to have some other birds around.
I return to my nest, thinking about a nap. The little birdies are still asleep, if only for a moment. I curl up next to them, and fall asleep. Soon I can feel them start to stir. I don't want to wake up just yet, so I quickly regurgitate and open my beak. Softly, the sleepy little birds take their food and in moments they are asleep again. As I fall asleep again, I reflect on my new role in life. Someday, these little birds will leave my nest, but I'm not ready for that just yet.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
The Real Test: Waiting on Nature
"I'm pregnant". Well, that's not entirely true. I think I might be pregnant. Only time will tell.
Of course, nowadays we have access to twenty-four hour drug stores where, for $6.99, I can pick up a test that will allow me to make this definitive statement. All I need to do is pee and wait two minutes. Instant results.
Just like Nature, right? Women have been peeing on sticks to test their pregnancy for thousands of years, right? No? Then how on earth did the mama's of old find out they were pregnant? Hmmmm... Maybe they had no way of knowing. Maybe they were all in the same situation as those women on the TV show "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant". I doubt it. In many cultures through out history, women were taught the art of listening to their bodies. Information on how to read the signs was passed down from generation to generation. Women's bodies were treated with reverence. It was understood that time would reveal.
Today's culture seems fixated on instant results. Technological development has given us instant messaging, instant coffee and instant breakfasts. We don't even have to wait till we get home to make a phone call, or check our email.
So in these days of fast solutions, why on earth would anyone want to wait? Remember that reverence I was talking about? Remember how the ancients were adept at listening to their body's signals? To me this is an exercise in patience, but it's not just about character development. It's about waiting for Nature to take it's course. It's about becoming comfortable with the Nature's timing. Anyone who's been through pregnancy before would probably agree that the birth process involves a lot of waiting. The process of natural birth is quite contrary to our modern instant culture. It clashes. And those who are so used to the speed of modern life often have trouble slowing down, and waiting for the birth process to unfold in it's own due time.
This is where technologicalized birth comes in to play. We are tired of waiting. We decide it is time for labor to start, and we induce. Then we decide that labor is not progressing fast enough for our tastes, and we augment with synthesized hormones. Then we think surely the water should have broken by now, so we decide it is time to break the bag of waters. Then we start to push, but the decent seems slow from our perspective, so we grab for the vacuum suction, and oh, this is taking too long. We pop in the forceps, grab the baby by the head, and pull it out.
And all because the baby wasn't delivered as fast as your food on your last trip to McDonalds. All because we have forgotten how to wait. The first thing just about every woman does when she suspects she is pregnant is take a test. It is the first example of women turning to technology for answers that their body would give them eventually if they would only wait and listen to their bodies. To me the whole process of waiting to find out is exciting. It's like reading a suspense novel as opposed to just flipping to the end. Am I pregnant or am I not? I guess I'll wait and see.
Of course, nowadays we have access to twenty-four hour drug stores where, for $6.99, I can pick up a test that will allow me to make this definitive statement. All I need to do is pee and wait two minutes. Instant results.
Just like Nature, right? Women have been peeing on sticks to test their pregnancy for thousands of years, right? No? Then how on earth did the mama's of old find out they were pregnant? Hmmmm... Maybe they had no way of knowing. Maybe they were all in the same situation as those women on the TV show "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant". I doubt it. In many cultures through out history, women were taught the art of listening to their bodies. Information on how to read the signs was passed down from generation to generation. Women's bodies were treated with reverence. It was understood that time would reveal.
Today's culture seems fixated on instant results. Technological development has given us instant messaging, instant coffee and instant breakfasts. We don't even have to wait till we get home to make a phone call, or check our email.
So in these days of fast solutions, why on earth would anyone want to wait? Remember that reverence I was talking about? Remember how the ancients were adept at listening to their body's signals? To me this is an exercise in patience, but it's not just about character development. It's about waiting for Nature to take it's course. It's about becoming comfortable with the Nature's timing. Anyone who's been through pregnancy before would probably agree that the birth process involves a lot of waiting. The process of natural birth is quite contrary to our modern instant culture. It clashes. And those who are so used to the speed of modern life often have trouble slowing down, and waiting for the birth process to unfold in it's own due time.
This is where technologicalized birth comes in to play. We are tired of waiting. We decide it is time for labor to start, and we induce. Then we decide that labor is not progressing fast enough for our tastes, and we augment with synthesized hormones. Then we think surely the water should have broken by now, so we decide it is time to break the bag of waters. Then we start to push, but the decent seems slow from our perspective, so we grab for the vacuum suction, and oh, this is taking too long. We pop in the forceps, grab the baby by the head, and pull it out.
And all because the baby wasn't delivered as fast as your food on your last trip to McDonalds. All because we have forgotten how to wait. The first thing just about every woman does when she suspects she is pregnant is take a test. It is the first example of women turning to technology for answers that their body would give them eventually if they would only wait and listen to their bodies. To me the whole process of waiting to find out is exciting. It's like reading a suspense novel as opposed to just flipping to the end. Am I pregnant or am I not? I guess I'll wait and see.
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