Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Friday, January 13, 2012

Chipmunks pick up their trash!


I feed birds thereby I have fed first squirrels and now chipmunks.  I have played block and tackle with squirrels for years with some success keeping them out of our birdfeeders. Now new competitors have arrived-chipmunks.

The squirrels are mysteriously gone, no longer visiting our bird feeders.
Chipmunks took up residence after the squirrels departed for more adventuress fun in someone else’s yard.  Either my squirrel evading tactics were to challenging or my birdseed was too old to bother with anymore.  At first, I thought how lovely a creature the chipmunk.

 Small, soft looking, pretty shades of brown, wiggly little noses, fat cheeks, tiny mouse like feet.   Soon though I realized, as the vacancy sign came down, that the new residents were similar to the old – both being zealous pick up artists.

Summer is short.  Spending all day trying to out-fox chipmunks was not on my agenda-so down came the bird feeder. A few weeks after reluctantly taking down the bird feeder for the summer, like the squirrels the chipmunks made fewer and fewer appearances. By early August, the blueberries in our backyard turned purple yet birds seemingly had not noticed. I eagerly guarded over them checking the progress twice a day, sampling a few for ripeness. Just as I figured I would begin picking berries, the chipmunks raided the harvest. Let me tell you, chipmunks do not need pint baskets when they go on Pick Your Own ventures. These cute, furry, yet damnable creatures can quickly and efficiently pick and store a human handful of blueberries in their greedy little cheek pouches that expand as easily as balloons.

Adding salt to the wound the chipmunks even feasted on the sunflowers, nearly dosing the last ray of late summer sunshine from the lower end of our garden area.  Now I believe in sharing with wildlife, in fact I have planted an assortment of plants specifically for, or at least to share with, birds and other wildlife.  However, I think pound for pound these sometimes not so adorable chipmunks outdo their squirrel cousins in their consumption appetite. One afternoon as I emptied coffee grounds into our compost barrel, I heard a quick scampering, looked inside, and sure enough a chipmunk had practically set up a dining table and was probably glad for the incoming coffee to accompany the day old pastries and other food scraps.


It is a love hate relationship. Chipmunks eat seeds intended for birds but they also bury nuts that may contribute to new hardwood trees and I have to admit I find them a wee bit cute at times. Admirably, chipmunks keep their sleeping quarters extremely clean.  They store shells and other garbage in refuse tunnels.  If only we could teach chipmunks to collect our littered trash. In the meantime, we will have to rely on those people who pick up littered trash throughout the fall and winter.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Intensive Care (Reprint from Nov. 2010)

Persistence is the act of persisting or persevering, a continuing or repeating behavior.

Our grandson Gavin is alive due to love, faith, hope, advanced medical science, and persistent optimism and care. Gavin and his parents recently visited my wife and me. While Gavin was at our home, I played some bird songs and showed him the corresponding birds. Ask Gavin what a turkey sounds like and he will quickly respond with “gobble, gobble gobble”. Ask him what a chickadee sounds like and he will probably respond with “dee, dee, dee”. Those quickly learned responses warm grandpa’s heart. His even being here in this world with us after being born more than three months premature and fighting through a bees nest of medical issues is awe-inspiring.

Gavin spent 103 days in NICU (Neonatal intensive-care unit). Here is one excerpt from Gavin’s Caringbridge journal : “I got a new bed the other day -- that means that I am stable enough to move. It took a lot of people to move me though, someone to hold my tube, someone to hold my head, someone to hold my body, someone to hold all my sensor and IV lines, and a couple people to switch out the bed units.” Gavin weighed 1 pound 12 ounces at the time.

Being in an Army family our grandson often lives far away. Visits are sweet but all too short. Mom and Dad keep Gavin in our lives on a daily basis through “Facebook” entries and phone calls. Those Facebook entries and calls remind us not only how special Gavin is to us but also how much daily care his parents and the medical community continue to provide on his behalf. Gavin and his parents have faced many seemingly overwhelming challenges and disappointing setbacks along with a progression of healthy developments. Now nearly three years old, Gavin is a living testimony to the value of community-many hands supplying intensive and persistent daily care.

Every one of us receives Thanksgiving blessings bestowed in a variety of forms. Some of these blessings come through the work and actions of others. Our ability to take action to make the world a better place for others and ourselves is also a blessing.

In a thankful and giving spirit help keep our environment, and your neighborhood, clean and green by persistently picking up a piece of litter every day. Our family wishes you and your family a Happy Thanksgiving.



Other personal stories and folktale postings:
      Ø  Letters from home: http://litterwithastorytotell.blogspot.com/2012/12/letter-from-home.html







Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Farmer's Creed - Nothing to Waste. Vermont Folktale.


Nothing to waste, a Vermont folktale, 

by Bernard Paquette 2009, revised January 2011.

                                              

Mr. Gardner steps into the general store, each arthritic step carefully chosen. The conservative Vermont farmer now store owner scans his new domain. The pyramid of apples on display gives testimony to the efficiency of his art. Each apple positioned to support those above it, each turned to highlight the shiny red and green coat covering the crisp juicy interior. An old chipped, never stained or painted six-layer Oak bookshelf catches the reflected light beaming off the apples. The sun begins to rise and streak through the wooden sash windows. On its base and on the next shelf up sit gallons of pure Vermont liquid gold or more precisely amber-colored remnants of boiled maple sap. Maple syrup, made in Vermont by nature, conserved and collected by Vermont farmers, every drop precious, as it is sweet.


          Other neatly organized products lie across desks and shelves and in coolers leaving only a pleasant pathway in which to stroll. The delectable homemade and freshly baked goods provide the in-season selections canned and baked by the wise farmer's wife. Mrs. Gardner makes the best use of each locally grown and harvested vegetable and fruit and nut. Nuts from walnut and butternut trees incorporated in pint-size loaves of sweet heavy aromatic bread. Pastries carrying maple topping as enticing as candy canes at Christmas. Maple candies in the shape of a maple leaf for children and adults alike. The apple pies are erupting upward, apple slices pushing at the roof that shines in a glaze of polish. Canned fruit of all kinds preserve that which otherwise would not last beyond a few weeks of their natural season.  Of the harvest that is brought into her kitchen little goes out which is not intended to be eaten. Moreover, what little refuse remains comes to good use in the compost pile preparing new dark loamy soil for the next generation of plants.




          It is four A.M., too early for customers. There is no need for electrical lights just yet. His granite surfaced and deep veined hand wraps around the cold iron wood stove door handle.  A chill reaches through to his mind and draws out stored memories, memories packaged and labeled for use and re-use. Past events preserved like fruit, beyond their debut; then later brought out, opened, and enjoyed as they were in their prime time. Like opening a sealed jar of cherries or peaches in February bringing forth the escaping scent of spring. The memories are as crisp as fresh fruit, providing delight both palatable and aesthetic. Not just memories as in remembering a time when, but more like stepping back in time to re-live events, experiencing the same sadness, the same joy, the same disappointment, the same surprise and excitement as the first time. 

Remembering a time when…

          Mr. Gardner took the same well-chosen steps, only not arthritic back then. He started early – four in the morning just as he did today. This was the beginning of what was to become a lifetime habit taking full advantage of nature’s gift of early dawn's natural light. This time the cold door handle was on the barn door. 



No wood-stove rested in the corner to fight the frosty air, only cows expelling their body heat through black and white mosaics and steamy breaths. Expelling their body heat the cows helped to keep the barn and the farmer warm. Energy harvested and recycled. Recycling, an old concept well known to native Vermont Indian tribes (Abnaki, Mahican, Pennacook, and Pocomtuc) carried forth by farmers. Fields harvested to feed the cows, milk from the cows to feed people, cow paddies to feed and nourish the soil to aid in the next crop growth. Tools sharpened, handles rubbed with linseed oil in the fall to be sharp and strong for next year, and repeated each year for a long and durable life. Obsolescence is unheard of as is replacing a tool for a new and improved model.

          The model followed by the farmer mimics that of the forest and the meadows, the streams, rivers, lakes, and the mountains, wherever nature runs its course freely. Each element down to a crystal of silicon sand is precious. Mr. Gardner the farmer fully utilizes nature’s bounty from the tiny spotted red-capped ladybug to the full pallet painted maple tree in October. From maturity to death, many give multiple returns as seasons change and time wears on them.

          A younger Mr. Gardner fills his farm stove with wood, cut from a tree toppled the previous October with the help of his aging father. The tree no longer offers seasonal colored ware, or sticky-sweet maple sap, but is willing to give a final return in the form of a crackling flickering fire.
The flames wave goodbye through the stove glass. Heat is expelled offering a toasty corner to warm ice-cold hands, and shuffling feet belonging to those who once walked under her. Then his mind returns to today and the store.

          Tales are exchanged; some old and well-rehearsed, some refurbished and spiked with new twists. The store is open to customers now. Neighbors savor Mrs. Gardner’s homemade pastries and hot cider. Some of them sit a spell to partake in a chess game on a board so worn one can barely distinguish the black squares from the tan squares. The day stays bright but cold. Yet the iron door handle retains warmth from so many hands sharing its utility. One of a few stores that still sells penny candy, honoring frugality-is sure to endure through generations.

          After fully utilizing the entire spectrum of daylight hours, the well-worked but refreshed farmer closes up shop. Walking the mile or so home brings him past a leaning barn. Not fully standing, yet not ready for demolition. Never brash, only stoic, never painted, only enamored by boards weathered and warped. The stone foundation is crumbling, making way for critters to hide. This is no longer a functioning farm structure. The mature-aged and seasoned barn now offers rustic beauty as it places a stamp on the cornfield and pastures like a postmark on a Vermont postcard.  The leaning barn like the farmer, now general store owner, belaying the ole farmers creed- Waste not, Want not.


All rights reserved 2009.
     

For current useful waste not information:

 * We hate to waste web site: http://www.wehatetowaste.com/forget-wrapping-paper-try-cloth-bags/
WeHateToWaste.com is a community of people just like you who hate to see things go to waste: food, energy, water — you name it! (You know the waste we’re talking about. It’s the kind that makes you cringe and cry out, “What a waste!”) We were founded by “Junky Jacquie” Ottman, an expert and author on green marketing and “eco-innovation”. 


And here is more about "Less stuff, more time":         







2.       Ways to need less money have more time. http://tinybuddha.com/blog/9-ways-to-need-less-money-stress-less-enjoy-more/




4.       Stuck in Vt: Tiny Houses. http://www.7dvt.com/2008tiny-houses


5.       Stuck in Vt. Tiny Houses sequel: http://www.7dvt.com/2010tiny-houses-sequel


6.       The high price of materialism: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGab38pKscw&feature=player_embedded#!


7.       The Story of Stuff: http://www.storyofstuff.org/blog/



10.   Unconsumption-Re-Use blog: http://unconsumption.tumblr.com/
11.   Global waste-not, trash into musical instruments... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXynrsrTKbI

On Sustainability:



Other personal stories and folktale postings:




Ø  Thanksgiving Intensive Care(3 mos. Preemie): http://litterwithastorytotell.blogspot.com/2010/11/intensive-care.html





Friday, September 9, 2011

Sharing Summer Vacation. A one act play by Bernie

                                           
                                        A One-Act Play


The CHARACTERS are SARAH, JOEY, & PATRICK, each member of the same grade school class, and their TEACHER.

The SETTING is along a sidewalk on route to a local school in Vermont in early September as classes are about to resume after a summer-long hiatus.



SCENE: Sarah has spent the summer at her Uncle’s farm in St Albans, Vermont. Joey spent the summer with his Aunt in North Carolina. Patrick spent the summer in South Burlington, Vt.  with his mom and dad. The trio- lifelong friends, separated all summer are now walking to school together after the final day of summer vacation.



SARAH: [Reaching as high as she can with her hand in the air] Wild patches of blackberry plants grew twice as tall as I am. We picked and ate blackberries until we looked like goblins our faces and hands colored purple. Uncle Tom said we might come out scratched a bit by the thorns but the best treasures usually required some sacrifice to obtain. I wondered how the birds managed to eat berries unharmed by the thorns or turned all purple like us.

JOEY: [Barely waiting for Sarah to finish] The beaches in North Carolina go on and on and on farther than from here to school.  Aunt Danielle and I saw wild dolphins swimming so close we could almost reach out and touch them as we swam in the ocean. We helped a sea turtle that was trying to dig a hole in the sand for her eggs. She had a piece of plastic tangled around her, binding one leg-we cut and removed the plastic.
       (See pic of turtle deformed due to six-pack plastic ring @
http://extra.mdc.mo.gov/nomoretrash/documents/Peanut.pdf and
@http://extra.mdc.mo.gov/news/images/full size/20100326-3.jpg. )
      There were giant birds; I think Aunt Danielle said they were albatross or pelicans, sailing just inches above the waves. We picked up litter off the beach so birds and fish wouldn’t die from eating the trash. Oh and I almost forgot, there was a harbor seal and a sea otter and-

PATRICK:[Feeling somewhat left out, Patrick steps out and in front of Joey cutting him off in mid-sentence.] Ok you guys, just cause you got to go to faraway places doesn’t mean you are the only ones who had fun this summer. Mom and I planted a raised bed garden and grew asparagus as big as trees. We planted trees too, a McIntosh apple tree, and an Evans Bali Cherry tree, and a chestnut and an elm tree. Twice a week we walked all over and picked up trash wherever we found it. Mom says if we all plant a few trees and pick up a piece of litter every day everyone’s walks will be better than ever. Even the birds helped pick up littered trash. We saw a robin’s nest in our cedar tree made of grass, leaves, string, and blue threads from a shredded tarp and other pieces of plastic too.

TEACHER: [After all three friends and other students reach school and settle into the classroom, their teacher begins the first day back to school] Students will you each share with us something you did and something you learned this summer?  Yes, Joey, you can start for us.

JOEY:[ Stands up and addresses the class] I walked miles of beaches and swam with dolphins and turtles in the ocean. [Pausing to think] I learned there are miles and miles of walking places with trees and animals and birds right here at home that need our help.

TEACHER: Thank You, Joey.  Now Sarah you may begin. 

SARAH: [In her lovely summer dress turns brightly to address the class] I wore bib overalls, got up every day before the sun, and fed chickens and geese and calves. [Looking at Joey] I learned that littered trash could end up in the ocean and harm turtles and other sea animals.

TEACHER: Thank You, Sarah.   Patrick, what would you like to share with us?

PATRICK: [Begins quietly but confidently] Summer carried me for miles and miles and miles, but I never left home for more than a day. Mom and I and sometimes dad and sis walked beaches, and sidewalks, and dirt roads past farms. I learned we live in a Green and Clean city and state but no matter where you live, getting dirty is a small price to pay to keep our world green and clean.

TEACHER:  [Smiling] Joey, Patrick, and Sarah, you all three seem to share a common thread even though you each spent the summer far apart. When exactly did you learn the lessons that you shared with us?

JOEY, PATRICK, SARAH: [call out in unison] Today!   [All three friends look at each other and laugh.]


CURTAIN


Personal note: I ache for all the individuals who lost so much from the storm Irene.  One cannot take in all the pain and anguish of so many, yet my heart feels for the overwhelming agony washing into our regions. Support fellow Vermonters, Buy Vermont.







Other personal stories and folktale postings:
      Ø  Letters from home: http://litterwithastorytotell.blogspot.com/2012/12/letter-from-home.html






Ø  Thanksgiving Intensive Care(3 mos. Preemie): http://litterwithastorytotell.blogspot.com/2010/11/intensive-care.html


Sunday, June 19, 2011

Fathers Day gift to his son

A few years back shortly after my dad died I found I needed to walk and think or maybe more to not think. I walked along the ocean beach in Carlsbad California,  barefoot. Not intending to go very far, I walked, and walked and walked. I began to wonder what city I was in, so headed up the cliffs to a park to find out. I than noticed my feet - naked feet were blistering and decided to start hobbling back on a narrow trail atop the cliffs overlooking the ocean. My shoe-less feet were really hurting, when I came upon a pair of tattered Gilligan Island type of canvas sneakers-just my size. Sometimes picking up litter pays dividends in ways not expected. Maybe they were a gift from Dad, him knowing how I would have my eye out for litter!
Happy Fathers Day Dad.