Friday, March 25, 2005

discussion

Anyone else read Toby Sullivan's piece, Killing Sea Lions, in this week's press? I like his writing, but wow. I had such a visceral negative reaction to what he was writing about, to what they had done, that I coudn't get past it. Wondering, hopefully, what the statue of limitations is on the wanton slaughter of marine mammals.
Thursday, March 24, 2005

spring

It's that time of year again, when for good or ill, Anchorage starts to flow again. The dripping from the eaves turns from sporadic to steady and joins the snow from the yards draining into the street. The lengthening days and rising mercury are welcome but the cleanup the long winter leaves us, less so.
Roads have shattered and cracked, buckled and heaved, opening gaps that threaten even the most ridiculous SUVs. Gravel pelts the windshield, making me jump on the morning commute. Thanks, MOA. Where do I send the bill for my windshield? The water collecting in dirty pools in the gutter never has a chance to settle before another car sprays through, leaving just a little more muck behind.
A winter's worth of garbage emerges from the receding gravel and ice. Tires, paper, everything you can think of is out there decorating the medians. Our office goes out each May and picks up garbage, part of the city beautification. I heard another office group discovered a rusty handgun, and another stumbled on dismembered mannequin. I can only imagine that first glance. One year we found a suitcase, locked and heavy. We bashed it open, and found it full of toys. The adult kind. Somewhere, someone had had a bad night. "Hey Honey, have you seen our..."
For those of us fortunate (or masochistic) enough to have live-in canine friends, melting snow and warm weather bring a special joy all our own. All our own unless we're the type to take the dogs for nightly romps in our neighbors yards, or long walks on the local trails without the ubiquitous orange newspaper bag, but we won't talk about that. February and occasional March snows cover and recover the obvious and oft-ignored mess in the backyard, giving the illusion that there is less of a cleanup job waiting. Foolish and faulty rationalization, I know: still have the same number of dogs, they still loudly insist on eating every day, and the rest is elementary.
One year I had the bright idea to compost everything, but neighbors and outright revulsion did that one in. One year I turned a trashcan into a giant sieve, drilling a few hundred holes in it so that the moisture would drain away. The holes weren't big enough, the idea was bad, and I ended up with a 55-gallon bucket of vile soup. A 55-gallon bucket with hundreds of holes...
Each fall the promise is made - I will keep up with the canine output, clean the yard on a weekly basis, walk them till they go in the neighbor's yard. As the temperature drops and the sky grows dim, my resolve wanes and each spring I find myself playing the role of some strange archaeologist, digging and raking through the strata of another winter, treading gingerly.

kick off



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