The Weight of the World

News over the past days has been brutally painful. Haiti: how much suffering can one country take? Afghanistan: the horror for those who can’t escape. Covid deaths of fully vaccinated adults and, lately, young children. And that’s just a small slice of the world’s troubles. People on every continent are mired in catastrophe of one sort or another, while the US itself spirals daily into more terrifying and dangerous terrain.

Me, I’m lucky to be insulated from crisis, with enough food, a roof, health, friends and family. My virus-driven dearth of social contact doesn’t even present a big challenge, as it must for, say, my grandkids who haven’t seen or played with another kid in a year in a half. I can’t imagine what their developing brains make of the pandemic (and the fires) and how their psyches will emerge from all this.

I continue to watch closely as the state burns. Three weeks ago I never dreamed the Dixie Fire would spread so far into Lassen, still with no end in sight. I also check the River Complex Fire near where we camped in July. Remember I told you about our Adams Lake hike, and the remote Coffee Creek Road we bumped along for miles to get to the trailhead? Bad news.

Oh, yeah, and California’s gubernatorial recall election coming up: as ridiculous and unnecessary as it is frightening. Needless to say, I will be casting my vote.

I’m fortunate to be able to get away from it all in a week. I hope. It’s disappointing to have to cancel at Lassen for the second year running, but I guess my new backup plan of the coastal redwoods will have to do. Ember and I are scheduled to camp at a state park that’s within earshot of a major highway, so that could suck. But we’ll get to be together, and we’ll have some nature and a change of scene, and we’ll eat a lot. (I always bring way too much food.)

And there are other good things. On the occasional Sunday, the Allison girls (Eleni, Lulu and I) meet on Zoom for 40 minutes. When we run out of stuff to say, we do things like this:

I told you about my new security cameras. They have captured the occasional non-human nocturnal visitor. Molly suggested I save some to post here. I am obedient.

Last night was a busy one for local animals. Here’s my front porch at 2:00 a.m. I have absolutely no idea what this creature is. I swear it looks just like a tapir. Perhaps it’s the rare Albany Tapir. Can you identify it? (I looped it five times so you can get a good look.)

Its legs are too short for a fawn and too long for a raccoon, but the tail sure looks like that of a deer. Ideas?

And around 4:00 a.m. an entire family passed by: one, two, three…. and a straggler (there’s one slowpoke in every group, it seems).

Before I leave you for now, I thought you might be as interested as I was to learn that raccoons are sometimes called “trash pandas.” Further, according to Wikipedia, “raccoon” possibly derives from the Powhatan for “animal that scratches with its hands,” or perhaps from the proto-Algonquian word meaning “one who rubs, scrubs and scratches with its hands.” And if my source is correct, its Latin name (Procyon lotor) translates to “before-dog washer.” Put that in your pipe and smoke it.