Time to listen

This week has illustrated that it's time for politicians to start listening to the people.

The photo is actually from last Friday, the day this week of Climate Action began. I happened to be in Victoria, where the streets around the Legislature Buildings were blocked off to all traffic (including public transit vehicles).

I didn't even try to get into the city to participate today. This post will have to suffice as my 'action' for the day.

It took several years of protests in the '60s (and into the '70s) for government to get the message that the war in Vietnam had to end, but eventually, those who were protesting were heard. I can only hope that with so many people taking to the streets again, those in power will listen. Especially with an election looming in less than a month, the time seems not only right, but urgent.

Water, precious water

Somehow I don't think that it was planned, but it feels right to have World Rivers Day in the midst of this week of Climate Change Action.

Today's photo isn't, I suppose, actually a river, but a tributary to one, so I hope it counts. It's called Early Winters Creek, a name I quite love -- not named after any person, but after the climate of the region. And it feeds into the Methow River, a site that features in my previous post.

I like to think of rivers and streams as the arteries and capillaries of the Earth. The life force flowing onward, always to the sea.

Later tonight will be the Autumn Equinox. Here in the Pacific Zone, it arrives just after midnight. Maybe it will reveal itself in some special dream.

In case you like the thought of listening to a river today, here's a little video featuring the sound of rushing water. The camera work is pretty erratic, but in this case, it's the sound that matters. Enjoy.

Poetry en plein air

One of the many pleasures of travelling through the Cascade Mountains in Washington state is stopping at Washington Pass for a stroll along the paths there. And one of the wonderful discoveries there -- beyond the fabulous views -- is the fact that there are two poems posted along the trail. The one above, "Silver Star" is from William Stafford's chapbook, The Methow River Poems. The other, "A Valley Like This," also by Stafford, is from the same collection.

But these two are only part of a group of seven of Stafford's poems posted at locations along the river.  Apparently, they were commissioned by the Forestry Service in 1993. I've yet to find the others, but plan to seek them out next time we visit the Cascade Loop.

Poetry seemed to be in the air, as even the rangers' station encouraged visitors to create poems of their own.

The display was simple -- just a sign which included the reminder that Gary Snyder and Jack Kerouac (and I'm pretty sure, Jack Spicer and Sam Hamill) found inspiration from time living in the woods.

Beside the sign was a table with some cutouts of 'foresty' words, but what a delight to find them.

And me, of course I'm wishing more of such public poetry would show up around here. There are some small haiku-like writings on rocks at nearby Blackie Spit at Crescent Beach, so I suppose I should be content.

What's yer sport?

Watching all the wonderful tennis this weekend (yes, I've become a convert -- I used to think it was the equivalent of watching a game of 'pong' with its hypnotic blips) has made me wish I were more of an athlete. But like they say, if wishes were horses, etc.

About the closest activity I can claim as a kind of sport is my twice-weekly sessions of deep water running at my local pool. The photo above holds a rack of flotation belts for participants in the class. Only, I'm the odd one out who doesn't choose to wear one.

I'm not sure whether it's the 'built-in flotation belt' I seem to wear around my middle, whether I'm in the water or out, or whether I'm just more buoyant than many people are. Whatever the reason, I don't choose to wear a belt. And since the activity is one that I enjoy, I manage to remain fairly faithful, year-round.

Maybe in my next life, I'll do something requiring more training and skill. But for now, I'll just keep runnin'...

A new way to celebrate

Although the first Monday in September is the day both Canadians and Americans observe Labour Day, many countries around the world celebrate Workers' Day on May 1st.

I'm sticking with the September observance, especially because a friend of mine (and a longtime union worker, no less) has come up with a brilliant new way to mark the date.

She's suggested that it be Jammies Day -- a day when those of us who get to stay home should spend it lolling about (knowing us, probably reading) in our pyjamas.

I'm just having a hard time deciding which of my two favourite nighties it should be: bunnies or kitties. But if that's the most difficult task ahead of me for tomorrow, I'm certainly not going to complain.

Here's to honouring workers of all stripes, especially those brave souls who fought for such basic rights as an eight-hour day or, praise be, the concept of the weekend. Yesss!