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How green was my valley

May I have a little more?

Great book, great movie, Roddy McDowell was much cuter before he moved from Wales to Planet of the Apes. Sometimes I think that way about myself, moving from Massachusetts to Alaska. Massachusetts has soft grass and a historically proven commonwealth government. Alaska has dry, prickly foliage most of the time and the landscape, in its perpetual state of upheaval and development, mirrors the primeval state of the government.

This  summer has been wet, raining almost everyday. Yet we are only at twice the average amount of rain, nowhere near the monthly record of 9 inches. The Valley of the Moon is just starting to show signs of fall. A few of the less healthy birch are turning yellow. The flowers on my deck are faded out. My tomato plants have blossomed, too late to fruit, as usual. I  did find and eat about 12 ripe raspberries walking by the baseball field last night in a short break from the deluge.

Unfortunately,the green of the valley looks washed out next to the overcast sky. It reminds me why people on islands like Nantucket kill themselves in winter. Oops, that sounds a bit harsh. Let me assure you that I am currently writing this with my painfully bright seasonal affective disorder lamp on and I have no desire to off myself today unless it involves being smothered in chocolate.

It’s actually great weather for running, no sweat, and for reading but not a summer to remember for summer itself. If I want to get really positive on you, it’s great weather for complaining, for impatience and feeling like crashing in bed all day but I know I have pills for that. Am I taking the pills because I ‘m a curmudgeon? Not unless I started being a curmudgeon at four. I don’t think I really needed medication at four but maybe some understanding of how mood disorders run in families might have helped so I didn’t think I was a  shoo’in for a remake of The Bad Seed.

No more for me thanks, I'm on a diet.

Of course, the summers of my youth are bright with sun or lightening, thunder, fun, mystery. Even now, I’m the last one to avoid a walk in the rain, but my pep has washed out.  I could  never have played the enchanted innocent Huw.   Even as a child had a tendency towards the whining ape. I know my life is good but my world has changed and it’s not coming back. I’ve just got that silly broken statue on the beach to remind me of how good I had it . There’s The Pebble Mine, endless drilling propositions, the recession, health care costs which make us healthy Alaskans laugh, (in a dark way), as we await our next accident. It  keeps on raining but not enough to drown me.

Noah did something about it. I can build an ark out of blogs instead of wood. I’ve got lots of animals, some in pairs, some single that I can visit and party with. We can dance, sing and eat as much salted chocolate as we want even as we consider mental health parity and eschew kick the can for another day. As I believe I said in my last post, I don’t need more, I just need to be able to see through all the stuff back to the wonder at the glitter in the gloom, the iridescence of the oil spill.

Here’s a quote from How Green Was My Valley which seems so hopeful, (until you get to the end). It’s important to keep those good memories watered or else life is one dimensional, dry and hollow. So let it rain. I need time to recall, to reinvent my past and future as well as to eat chocolate.

It is with me now, so many years later. And it makes me think of so much that is good, that is gone.

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About polarflares

My head is so big because it has so many holes and air gets in.

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