I was headed over to the creek clean up on Comanche Creek this morning but decided to do a pre-creek cleanup instead. This is what I hauled out in about about 60 feet from the ditch. Why, I wonder do we dump garbage into creeks, rivers and oceans?
I am the heart burn of the Albatross. I am the constant bag woman muttering collective prayers to ancestral gods who never listened. Pinching strings of snotty plastic and strofoam curds from rich ditch mud. Scanning, plucking, prying each scrap of harvest with a prayer. My desire, my will, my hope that the collective slob stops polluting.
Ah, a change in subject. We paddled out on Black Butte Lake last Monday. Even this has its story: From 8/28 to 9/18/1863 all the indigenous people in the Sacramento valley were rounded up and made to walk, in the driest time of the year, to Round Valley. 461 started the Nome Cult Trail of Tears and 277 survived. Every year at this time people walk a route to remember them that would have taken them through the valley where this lake was built by the US Corps of Army Engineers.
We were graced by a quiet and beautiful time there. This isn't a great photo but you can see a dragon and a heron in the same frame and in the photo below some mystery human had built random cairns along the lake.
Last weekend there was also a really sweet gathering for City Council candidate Mark Herera out at the GRUB farm. I smeared something on my lens but like the trampoline shot anyway.
May your summer end slowly.