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September 19, 2022: Imagine

It’s difficult, on a nice day, to imagine not so nice days. Saturday and Sunday, it was not raining. In fact, the sun was shining. Everyone kept saying that it was going to rain again. It was not that I didn’t believe them. It was that I didn’t want to believe them. Sure enough, last night it again began coming down in buckets, and it continued, all day, to come down in buckets.

Alys biking on the trail near Grizzley Camp

I’m despondent because riding horses is not all that fun when it rains this much and this hard. The same with doing agility. But this can’t last forever. This is because nothing, weather-wise, lasts forever.

We have nothing to complain about here. Western Alaska got hammered by a typhoon. A typhoon is the same thing as a hurricane – maybe the circular patterns differ. Entire towns were engulfed in water. We have water drenched soil, and in places the wood on our buildings is swelling.

The outside animals are unhappy. The inside animals are restless. I don’t know how to explain to them that this is the effect of climate change – and that we humans have been terrible land stewards.

And oh yes, the hay that hasn’t molded, is molding. We’ll just continue to purchase high dollar hay for Tinni, that is until another hay source materializes.

In the rain, Pete wheeled and dealed, but ended up selling the SAAB for $600.00.

Oddly enough, I feel a sense of loss about this. I liked that vehicle and had hoped that someone would take an interest in taking on the exterior work. It needed a side mirror, a horn, and the right kind of windshield wipers. The window glass is curved, and the blades were not. They got stuck once or twice when I was driving in the rain.

I would have continued to drive the SAAB, but the problem was that it got terrible gas mileage. The Subaru is far more efficient in this respect.

I do wish I lived in a place where I could ride my horse and my bicycle places. Getting about under my own power was a way of life for me until we moved here.

I am counting down the days left of hunting season. We are down to six days. Then the woods will again belong to me and to my horses and dogs. It must be unsettling to the animals and plant life to have these assholes tearing about on their loud, smelly machines. And of course, as soon as the first snowflake hits the ground, they’ll be out there on their bilers.

I don’t think that those who hunt and make it a habit of riding these machines are going to have an attitude change. Covid didn’t take them out, but perhaps a virus will materialize, that is one that takes out those with aberrant DNA.

Tomorrow night we go to a meeting and discuss all this with the powers that be. I will have to refrain from talking about my theory about aberrant DNA.

Next: 258. 9/20/22: Praise Dog when it all goes well

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