Gotta Have Park

When I wrote that I competed with adults at the hardest school in the world—with the lowest admissions rate in the world—I meant it. I was vying for my class spot with people who had already lived a few lives and careers before me, which is about as daunting as it gets, not that anyone came to our defenses. We were their fodder; everyone's: the teachers, the administrations, the other students, and that included any/all adults working around us. People who try to excel by becoming talented fakes with great mimicry skills are very nervous people indeed, because they need much better, smarter people—to feed off of to survive—and that included the teenagers and very young adults we were back then, which was sort of like sending a young Jimi Hendrix into war involuntarily, to die for a country that denied him the right to drink at certain water fountains, let alone buy himself a real stiff drink before being shipped out to active wartime duty at 19-years old.

As much as we tried reconciling their presence at our school, it didn't seem fair to us, and we knew it, because we started making some noise, and then some much louder noise, until the "profs" who thought they could game us by sabotaging our expensive education got a real taste of working class life and the transfer student mindset. It sent them tail-spinning downward while taking potshots at kids like me, working three jobs at once while taking only studio classes, because I had essentially completed an entire Liberal Arts curriculum in just three short years, though that degree was unjustly held from me, too (in lieu of my transfer status), just like I was forced to complete my senior year of high school, even though I had completed the curriculum by junior year with college credits and a Regents diploma, but if the gifted left, who would be there to pay for all of your salaries? Right?

In retaliation for circulating a petition around campus asking for desktop publishing classes to be placed on our curriculum, equipped with the kinds of computers we actually use in the workplace, I was "blacklisted" by the very professors who were there to supposedly educate me. It didn't matter—just like it hadn't mattered in my educational past—because my mentor let me pursue my work in his classes as independent studies, which is, once again, like becoming a grad student as an undergrad, but, again, that doesn't pay for your two apartments in Providence and Brooklyn, does it, "Prof"? No! We did! We paid for that for you, so you could take open potshots at children, basically. It made for some very weird classes indeed. 

Take, for example, Ellie. She decided to play the "ethnic minority" game by wrongly trumpeting her prized European status to an openly disparaged minority like me, which made for the most awkward kiddie-adult conversations you could imagine, as she openly campaigned for me to get kicked out of "her" school that she attended as an undergrad at 34. Huh...that's so...odd. And it was. She would talk about her past as a forest ranger (why didn't she learn to draw while living all alone in a forest for months on end?), as we pondered how the fuck she could go from living on Mount St. Helen during its epic volcanic blast to sitting in on our kiddie crits, because I sure as fuck never had the time to work on a portfolio before attending college, let alone blow off one career for our kiddie art classes, in comparison.

It was highly suspect and dubious in the extreme, but just like every other situation I've faced in my life. I had to make it, like a Marine dropped behind enemy lines with no lines of communication or ammo left, nursing a serious bullet wound or two while evading capture and/or the enemy. If I didn't attain a degree from this school, there was no job waiting for me in the outside world, and I didn't want to die from homelessness or starvation, which is just like today. 

I write to you from a public library that's becoming increasingly hostile to me, because the director here has already called the police on me for standing up to one of their Special Needs crafts "teachers" for harassing me by lurking behind me as I typed, and then aggressively staring at me, mouthing words at me as I typed to you all, which, just like then, resulted in me attaining a police contact on the force by an officer who flat out told me not to even bother to talk to anyone at this location again. "Just call us instead." That's how bad it gets. 

Like every moment that's precious in this life we live, so is our land. We live off the land that grows the food we need to live. No healthy land, no food for the animals to eat, and that includes us. If we do not protect our precious resources—like our land and water—then we do not survive. Sometimes—like my work, education, and life story—it is that simple. It becomes that basic, our survival. No food=no us. No bees=no pollinators. It all comes back to our defense and self-defense skills, and so, even though adults with more money, more experience, and a heck of a lot more time than me still tried to kill me off, here I still am, fighting for my survival while I fight for all of us. 

So, Ellie, even though, in your misguided hatred and aggression of an artistic life that was never yours to live by destiny, I dedicate today's fight to you anyway, for a t-shirt you wore back in the day that read "Gotta Have Park", and even though you wore it to protect your own government job as a forest ranger, I still believe in its message. What cannot die has never really lived, as far as I'm concerned. Live.

http://www.earthshareny.org/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Overdevelopment 
http://www.environmentnewyork.org/ 

Sacred Earth

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keep_America_Beautiful

Ever since I can remember, I've had values, ethics, and morality attached to conservation, with a genuine love for nature. It's like breathing to me. So, when I encounter ignorance (whether real or fake) about what it takes to keep our environment clean and safe for future generations, I know it's total fucking bullshit. Toddlers know not to litter, because fouling one's own nest is contrary to every living species on this planet, except for those sick humans who want to die from their own filth, which is about as contrary to any life-force as you can get, but that's the walking dead for you. Hard to talk to about, like, stuff.

One of the most successful anti-littering campaigns was widely aired during my prime t.v. viewing years as a kid, and as an adult GenX'er, I knew someday I would grow up to help my crying native friend, because I felt his disgust at this Hollywood version of Anglo hatred toward our planet as keenly as he did (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iron_Eyes_Cody). Luckily in this century, we have genetic testing and a DNA database to protect our tribal affiliations. It was so powerful an experience for me as a little girl that I've never forgotten its impactful imagery. A lone "native" man stands looking at all the waste European colonists have wrought upon the landscape with a deep sadness, along with many other genetic diseases that we don't really need in this "new" world of yours discovered by humans more spiritual than you, motherfucker, but I digress.

Last spring, when I had a long wisdom tooth pulled, I sat watching a new flat-screen t.v. in a fancy dentist's office here in town as a welcome distraction, with the channel set to a Hudson Valley news channel. My procedure was over quickly, as I knew it would be, because the old tooth had descended fully and was weak from invading cavities. As I sat prone with instruments and humans poking around my mouth like they were interested cave explorers discovering an underground species of blind bats (I have some very unique and totally identifiable dental features), I was heartened to see a wonderfully inclusive ceremony involving a cute gaggle of kids, a rabbi, a priest, and a medicine man. Sounds like a fun joke, right? No joke!

A group gathered to bless our Hudson River in a honoring ritual that speaks of its importance to us as a giver of life. Uh uh! I grunted my recognition of such a great experience being filmed live and right near our shores. Yeah, fuckers! That's it!! You finally fucking did it! You got one thing right, and it's not a small one. Well done. It only took you a few centuries to catch onto our ancient relationship with this blessed Mother Earth, on this shining gem of a precious vessel that is your flying biosphere spaceship. Kudos. You're moving past children's entertainment to the real. Welcome to our happy valley, but be careful. We protect what we love here.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_generation_sustainability

http://westchester.news12.com/news/blessing-of-the-hudson-river-held-1.10314127

Lord of the Flies

All across the nation, American voters cast their ballots in hopes of voting into effect those necessary changes that will help us reach what we define as our "Manifest Destiny*": hopes that each and every one of us have about the future world we want to live in, by passing those values onto the next generation through our right to vote, even if we don't live to see those helpful changes put into place. We see this vast land that we live in as part of G-d's sacred covenant with man, an unbroken promise about delivering us into "The Promised Land", so that it's more to us than some petty pissing contest or ego trip. 

We are actually crafting the very world we live in. It's a very active culture to participate in, one that has defined us as being the world leader for freedom in action, by granting every citizen the exact same vote of "one". Today, all across America, you are an "Army of One", as holy and united as any other land that has come before you, or that will exist into the future. With that in mind, I expect you to rise above the phony posturing that has defined media culture in modern times. You are not voting for "pretty", although you should look to pleasing human symmetry as a sign of good health. You should not vote for "rich"; you should vote for someone who is willing to reach deep into their own pockets to do what they say they will, just like I do.

It goes without saying that your votes should count towards our shared visions of good health and happiness for those who come after us, and if you know of people on the ballot who do not openly share those hopes about a shared good future, don't vote for them. If you have only one option to vote for, then ask yourself why more people haven't come forward to put themselves in the spotlight with the money required to become a candidate: how bad is the corruption around you? Are you passive? Do you do nothing in the face of corruption? Then, you are the very problem we seek to address through these public acts of voting and legislation. If you are too incompetent to vote, then you have to ask yourself why you are even an American citizen, so lazy and complacent as you are in the face of citizenship.

Many people have lived and died on much less than the principles that you are putting into action today. We have been instructed by His Holiness in Rome to vote into office those officials who actively support our unified goals about the preservation of our Earth, as our birthright from The Creator. You do not have the right to destroy this planet, or any of the lifeforms on this Earth. Witness this: I have an infestation of fruit flies in my current apartment, in part due to the noncompliance of the law by those people in my direct environs, in part due to the natural biochemical process by which organic matter breaks down, because that's exactly what happens when you recycle all the plastic and metal that you use. You only have food garbage leftover as trash.

So, answer me this: why am I the only person who cares enough to follow the law in this household that is not exactly of my choosing? How can a supposed "wealthy" man be foolishly considered a prominent business owner, respectable enough to own property, lording this power over his tenants by using them as puppets in his mental games that openly flaunt the laws we live by? How can he be considered "rich" in our society?! He stands for everything we despise: he's arrogant but illiterate (I had to talk him through his own business contract, which he then breaks), he's delusional and cowardly, he hides behind the people he depends on for money, like mocking the openly drunk mentally ill women who pay him Section 8 money from the state every month: how can he be better than them? He can't be.

And so, just like the representative from the sanitation department at Pearl River Day who stonewalled me by not giving me any straight answers about composting** in New York State, this one lowly man is deceived into thinking that he can openly disparage my efforts at recycling by myself without censure, when he and every other tenant does not recycle according to our very own laws, every single week, right underneath your noses. If you do not enforce your own laws, you are part of this corrupt system that we will replace. And make no mistake about it: you will be voted out, because today, on this day in November 2015, we (the truly elect of this world you live in) have drawn a dividing line between the rotten and the righteous that cannot be undone. Take comfort. You are not alone.

http://www.dec.ny.gov/chemical/8799.html

*    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manifest_destiny
**  http://www.dec.ny.gov/chemical/294.html

Fish Tale

 

http://www.dec.ny.gov/animals/269.html

I've written before about the weird international rock-star status that follows New Yorkers around wherever we are in the world, being a world capital for many centuries now. It's become synonymous with fame in "human", which takes some getting used to, because it's a really strange concept to be known for something as random as where you were born, but such is life. 

Handling your rise in societal stature rocks many a person coming up, and it can totally wreck you if you aren't prepared for that kind of attention and heat. Some people resort to a "Seinfeld"-like caricature, thinking it will amuse the natives into acceptance; others choose to disown their homeland completely, preferring to try blending in with the locals, which typically results in a funny/sad "My Cousin Vinny"-type of disillusionment. Many simply realize who they are, and come home. Wouldn't you?

I've accepted my home along with many other gifts, but I've had to work at it like anything else. Once you conquer the urban jungle, one quickly moves past the clichés to the real deal, because most New Yorkers do not live on the permanent stage set that Midtown has become for tourist revenue. Now what?! 

http://www.dec.ny.gov/animals/52634.html

It's laughable to me, because as a native, I can disappear into the vastness that is New York state any time I want to, which will be a foreign concept to you until you actually rent a car and drive upstate. It's wild, it's mountainous, it's very cold (like Canada), and it will scare the fuck out of you, as any serious forest should. Every year, we lose professional people to it, like the young trooper who was killed early this season, when a migrating deer collided with his vehicle while crossing a back road.

To us, it's going back into the heart of darkness where the wild things are, and I love it. Trying to grasp a city as large as New York is impossible without experiencing it, and so is our wilderness. It's the lushness of it, the sheer enormity of our space that overwhelms most tourists, and that's exactly why we like it so much; you should be afraid of it to really appreciate it. 

http://www.dec.ny.gov/65.html

That's the respect any difficult place builds into the people who live their lives within it, and so you should do that. For many natives, it's also part of our deep, abiding faith. We love New York, and I ❤ NY, too. Even our logo* and motto is world famous! It's time for you to see why. See you there....or not: http://www.dec.ny.gov/23.htm

* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Love_New_York

Fertile Crescent

This past weekend at the grocery store, I tried (as usual) to find local fruits and berries, especially since California is all dried up, which is also typical and annually occurring. Thirsty berries from a huge conglomerate in Watsonville, California that also bought land in Mexico for an artificially induced, year-round growing season? WHY?! 

Because the system is crooked, that's why. And here I was, looking for them new strawberries designed by Rutgers University (http://news.rutgers.edu/news/better-tasting-strawberry-developed-rutgers-makes-its-debut/20150510#.VYgkFvAYFV4), which will be commercially available next year. (Note: Jersey, y'all can grab them at a nearby farm stand NOW, you lucky "sumthin'-or-othas"). Yeah, that accent's "phresh". Keep it! It'll keep 'em on point about who you are.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes: the futility of growing in a semi-arid climate and calling it "climate change", which is up there with spending billions of dollars to tunnel underneath Lake Mead, so them crazy-asses in Vegas (never the most legit town, but when are desert outposts square with the rest of society, right?) can drain it like a bathtub: http://www.reviewjournal.com/news/water-environment/they-re-getting-ready-pull-the-plug-the-bottom-lake-mead-photos. 

It's so fucked up, I don't know how to address the basics behind such rottenly bad and obviously corrupt thinking, but here it goes:

1) Growing is better near available and replenishable fresh water: http://www.tenshadesofgreen.org/shade2.html

2) Deserts do not grow as well as fertile river valleys, because....

3) ....life grows in valleys. See also: "The Seat of All Mankind" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fertile_Crescent) and Chapter One of The Holy Bible (http://biblehub.com/genesis/2-14.htm).

I really can't make it more simple than that, so if you don't get it, go take yet another class "Special Ed". No! I'm done with your tired ass. NOW, GO!

Christ on a....I will NOT tolerate another Great Depression or Dust Bowl from your dumb ass. I really can't this century. I CAN'T.

Your homework is posted here down below, and yes, you need to click on the link to see the information provided, so DO SOMETHING:

http://journals.ametsoc.org/doi/abs/10.1175/EI168.1 and http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19955191, and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainmaking, 
and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dust_Bowl.

I love you, and I want you to GROW: bit.ly/1N8G6ds

Stop, Anellotech.

http://www.freshair.org/

Today as I sit at the local library on a public-access computer, the front doors are open to catch some of the cool afternoon breezes, to the sounds of schoolchildren having an outdoor playday with teacher-supervised games and sports, right across the street in the town park. 

I want to keep it that way, and I can't do that if we allow a highly-toxic petrochemical refining plant to take up residence on what was formerly Lederle's site, and then Pfizer's, pharmaceutical companies both: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Cyanamid and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pfizer. 

They'd been having secret town meetings and court appearances in Rockland. We have a "Master Chemist" and a "Master Litigator" on the case, but I want more. Concerned moms are also appreciated.

I want it gone forever, and so I ask you to willingly join me in this. Afterwards, we can collectively heave a huge sigh of relief, breathing in the fresh clean air for a battle well-fought and hard won that is the refuge for the righteous and the just.

Freedom from corruption...that's what we want. Join us. https://www.facebook.com/groups/1595952577299501/

Update: http://www.lohud.com/story/news/local/rockland/orangetown/2016/01/14/anellotech-cancels-controversial-pearl-river-vent-pipe/78787388/

Green Day (April 2015)

Join us.

http://www.keeprocklandbeautiful.org/

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/40602834114953843/

Sky Lines

Intersecting Lines (Pearl River, NY. December 2014).

Last week I spotted a gorgeous crescent moon still hanging brightly in the full light of day. It was beautiful, until something else obscured the object of my original intentions: the many, many intersecting lines of a thousand or so airplane chemtrails that fill the sky every day in the tri-state area, spewing toxic waste high up in the atmosphere above us, which led me to another musing. Yes, I was safe down below, out of harm's way, but what do we do about our atmosphere? Who protects that, fragile as it is, and hard to reach, way out of our grasp. How do we clean it up? 

I trust that this daily missive reaches someone out there with the authority and courage to make the neccesary changes needed to protect life, fragile as it, as this pollution must surely reach us on the ground after falling from the sky above. That's the nature of my faith. 

Amen to you during this Advent season, a humble time of repentance and reflection during our hectic daily lives. May you look up into the light, and see the truth as it is written before your eyes, like lines drawn by the hand of G-d. This is not our coloring book to write upon, like irate children scrawling across a blank page.  

We belong to this earth and one another.

The Last of the Wood Violets

Translucent wood violet.

These delicate wood violets opened up a few weeks ago, the last of the years' flowers to blossom during the warm spell we had this fall. They were so paper thin, the sunlight shone through them to brilliant, transparent effect, imparting a fragile, see-through quality upon the already frost-threatened flower. It was a good lesson in how so easily life can be broken, like the paper-thin quality of these beautiful little petals that can tear when touched lightly. We are here for so short a time! Let's enjoy it, together.

Sunlit wood violets.

In contrast to the whisper thin petals of the last wood violets are these hardy, bulbous mushrooms that sprang up almost overnight, after we finally had a good few days of soaking rain. Alien looking, aren't they? They're a cluster of big beech mushrooms growing out of an old stump. Please, do not pick and eat any mushrooms without consulting an expert first! Edibles can be very tricky to identify correctly.

Cluster of round-topped beech mushrooms.

And lastly, we have the gorgeous striated caps of the Mycena mushroom. Again, please do not pick or eat any wild mushrooms without an expert present, especially varieties with with prominent gills. Snap a picture instead, like any good ecological tourist would do. That's what I do!

Wild Mycenas and morning dew.

The Peregrine Falcon

A predator sits in the playground.

Yesterday, on my way to the library, I noticed a man standing in the street next to his red car. He stood out further by turning his head and pointing towards the playground, and there it was perched atop the swing-set: this stunning and very large bird of prey. I immediately crossed the street to get a better look at it, and another woman was taking pictures on the sidewalk with her handicapped son. I said out loud that I thought it was a Peregrine Falcon as I walked towards it, and today's quick research on the Internet proved me correct. I took a few photos of it through the chain link fence, being careful not to disturb it with any sudden movements, or act aggressive towards it in any way, when it opened it's huge wingspan and flew across the street, right in front of me. I thought it was one of the coolest things I'd ever seen, as I cheered aloud for it! YEAH!! 

The hunter in its' perch across the street.

The large hunter looked at me from it's new heights in the tall tree, which is a very smart, safe thing for a falcon to do, when humans have clustered around it pointing objects. It looked right at me, and squatted. I thought it was poised for another take off, but it lowered its' head into it's chest while staring at me with its' large eyes, lifted its' tail, and poured out a thick stream of watery white excrement to ward me off from getting any closer. Message received and understood. 
I have the utmost respect for beautiful predators, because they live hard, brutal lives, but this one even more so than usual, because we almost lost it several years back. The return of the Peregrine Falcon is a major victory for us as a people. It was almost extinct along the eastern seaboard, and its' return is a major event for us all. 

Welcome back to your territory, Brother Bird.

May the hunting here be to your liking.

http://www.newburyportnews.com/news/local_news/article_b41d2f22-c61f-57a8-9c39-d1211017a3dd.html

Deer in the Park! A Good Sign....

A beautiful day for a walk. Wait, what is that?!

On a recent walk, I cut through a local park with an apple orchard (http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/2013/08/gardens-dr-henry-v-borst-park.html), and as I grew closer, I saw something move. Wait a second, what is that?! Oh, snap! Deer! And not just one, but two young strong healthy males growing out a nice set of antlers, happily munching wild, native apples fallen to the ground.

Deer! Two of them, too! And they're eating apples!

It's such a great sign. Our area used to be filled with wildlife, but just like global warming, we altered the landscape to such an insane degree, animals were driven out. Not cool. We need our fellow Earth inhabitants to keep our precious ecosystem intact.

Healthy, beautiful young males growing antlers. Oh, good!

If you mess with one element too much, you drive the entire system out of whack. Seeing healthy deer feel comfortable enough to eat apples unmolested is a very good sign indeed. It means better days are ahead, ones that will bring us back into balance with nature, which is necessary for every living thing's survival on this beautiful blue planet. A healthy, thriving ecosystem. That's where it's at. That's what's up. Peace.

My man, St. Francis! What's up?!

A spot I hadn't noticed that before.

I took up the practice of Roman Catholicism again several years ago, after leaving the faith of my youth for many years. After my parents divorced (a huge "no-no" for strict Catholics), my mother asked me to continue with my religious studies until Confirmation, the rite of passage that marks our early teens, after which I would decide for myself whether or not I wanted to continue with church and religious practice. I didn't continue, for a bunch of reasons. I was a teen, I needed a parent to drive me, and during that time, both of my parents were uneven, sporadic churchgoers at best.

What is that? A statue?

But it had always been my intention to fold it back into my life later on: after school, work, and travel, I would return home and settle down, at which time I would become reacquainted with my faith, in order to practice it alongside my future husband and children. Despite a brief marriage that was not my choice by design, I've held on to that life plan. I hadn't really considered getting married until 40, long after I'd seen the world as an artist, and so it has come to pass.

Yep, it is. Lemme guess, who could it be?

I wanted to reintroduce myself to Catholicism, so I could discuss and lead the conversation with my family, building a common base of values, ethics, culture, traditions, and practices that would continue long after I was gone, and so that will be, too. We are in the year two thousand and fourteen, in reflection of that very same practice amongst our followers. Because our faith is among the strictest branches of religious practice, it was something I deferred picking up until later, which I did at a parish in Brooklyn, named after a saint in the tradition of my man Francis.

Yep, it's my main man St. Francis as a birdbath, ever tending to animals.

It is more than a series of "rules", though to an uneducated outsider I could see why it seems so restrictive. It is an intellectual tradition. We attend school during the day through the state, and after hours, we attend parochial schooling: that's double than the American average, something I forget until I start conversing with someone who lacks the discipline and foundation that comes with a rigid and difficult educational background. Now that I practice it again, it's no surprise to me that these deeply held values have re-emerged in my life to manifest my commitment anew: I've been abstinent and celibate for years, a sort of baptism back into my faith, where once the doors were closed to my college partying and city lifestyle. Some coincidence.

Compassion, beauty, nature, gardens, a love for the outdoors. Yep, that's me.

Since then, I've had more of these supposed "coincidences" come into my life, like finding an almost hidden devotional garden tucked into a development near me that I hadn't seen for many months, even though I walk past the apartment complex almost every day. Usually I cross the street at a certain point, but one day I didn't, and then I saw it: a garden with a statue, tucked under some pine trees in a courtyard with table and chairs.

Hey! I bet whoever made this is like me!

So here he is, the leader of our Franciscan tradition, a movement so powerful, we continue to uphold his principles today: serving to love and protect the animals that reside within this garden that is our planet Earth, refashioned for us to reflect on as a birdbath. It's something me and my main man, the patron saint of animals, would do anyway; we'd provide a welcoming environment for all G-d's creatures to dwell in. It has affected every aspect of my life, even when I don't actively look for it. That's the power of mythology, the pull of a story so strong, it endures until it becomes an almost human type of forever.

You ain't gonna top that, honey, so don't even try it with me. Someone's got my back, big time: http://franciscantradition.org/about.

The Perfect Summer: August in New York

Beautiful fluffy clouds, after a recent, brief summer rain. So normal!

We've had a cooler than average summer this year, which has made me extremely happy. First of all, there's no power outages, outrageously high utility bills, or constantly running air conditioning that's smells moldy from old filters; a huge break indeed. 

A symphony of beautiful weather set in the skies.

But more importantly, this crucial respite from insanely high temperatures gives the Earth a chance to cool down after many years of escalating global warming, temperatures so high from human waste, that we have melted polar ice caps and destroyed entire coral reefs from artificially warm waters, as well as displacing human populations from their sea level homes.

Ah! Another gorgeous sunset behind a stand of large trees.

It comes as no surprise to me that it's been one of the best summers I've had in a long, long time. I sleep comfortably every night with a fan blowing and open windows. I wake up happy and refreshed from actual cooled air that I can comfortably breathe in when I open the curtains to let in the beautiful morning daylight. 

The  glow of an orange sunset; a New York summer's day.

This is the kind of summer I remember from my youth: warm, sunny days with cool, breezy nights. It's also no coincidence that these are optimal growing conditions for this area, as one recent broadcast on local news suggested. A berry farmer in New Jersey said this was by far the best bumper crop they've ever seen, with the longer season extending the harvest to December.

The daylight's music fades, as the night chimes in.

Still, true to a human's ridiculously selfish nature, many an idiot talking head has loudly grumbled on-air, like some grade-school fuck-up on summer break, that all this "horrible" cool air is wrecking their friggin' beach time, to which I say this: go fuck yourself. I mean it!

A cloud adds punctuation, a single note at the end of the day.

If your spoiled bitch ass is bothered by the planet cooling itself back into good health, then go buy yourself a stupid fucking tanning bed and burn yourself into a compulsively fried oblivion, because we've had enough of your stupid fucking bullshit.

The perfect light.

Or, go buy a cheapo ticket to Boca in Florida, where you can bake your brains out (what's left of them, anyway) in some generically bland condo, you short-sighted, evil, corporate-owned cunt. I hate you! 
This is war >:o(

The music winds down, and the light grows softer.

For the rest of the decent Americans and other people like me, I raise my glass of freshly squeezed organic lemonade in your direction, as I put my feet up on the wood railing of an old house somewhere in the Hudson River Valley region, watching another spectacular light show that's delivered free of charge by Mother Nature herself. 

Perfect pink and orange lighting.

It's some of the best light I've ever seen in our skies, which is also not a surprise to me, a long-time watcher of weather and clouds. I'm rooting for Planet Earth all the way, (which we are just a small part of, despite the blown up arrogance and tiny penis insecurity of some fucking on-air tool), every single day, with every seemingly "small" choice I make, many of them at the grocery store, when I choose local and fresh organic foods, higher priced as they may be than the high fructose shit on sale for a rip-off $.79, now that word has spread about food and beverage company's poison profits, the shit that also seeps into our groundwater and land with every acid rainfall we have, with yet another weirdo tropical storm that we endure. Who do you want to see win? I know my choice (and my conscience) is clear. Asshat.

Wow...

...pink and purple clouds say "goodnight"...

...to another perfect day in the Hudson Valley.