As Sweet As You Like It November 24, 2009
Posted by dianehuhn in Ramblings, Travels.Tags: Assumption Parish, bagasse, Community Coffee, Iberia Parish, St. Mary Parish, sugar, sugar cane
3 comments
Alrighty, where was I? Ah, yes, 20 ounces of steaming goodness, $4 of jaw tiring jerky, and a full tank of gas. When you live on the bayou, well, let’s just say ya gotta head north if ya wanna head west unless you’re looking to give your vehicle a mighty expensive car wash. So up de bayou I went, hit Houma, and hung a left.
As I traveled through Assumption, St. Mary, and eventually to Iberia Parish, it reminded me of traveling the highways and byways of the midwest past seemingly endless fields of corn. No corn round these parts however, but most definitely mile after mile after mile of sugar cane. From what I understand, sugarcane was first brought to Louisiana by Jesuit priests in the 1750s, is now about a $2 billion industry, and employs some half million folks, many of whom I seemed to pass in the fields as they cut the cane and on the road as they transported it to the boiling houses. Sunday is no day of rest for the cane farmers during harvesting season which we’re pretty much in the middle of right now.
Love that Louisiana sugar in my Community Coffee, but I got to say that I was relieved that the wind was carrying those huge white plums of steam from the processing plants away from the highway cause let me tell you that ain’t no sweet smell to the olfactory receptor neurons my friends. But I think that odoriferous assault is only when they’re burning the bagasse which I gather is kind of like all the fibrous stuff left over after the refining process. But I guess it is pretty cool that a lot of the mills can actually use this stuff as biofuel to power their facilities and pump in to the consumer electricity grid. And there seem to be a thousand and one different non-food uses for the stuff from ethanol, to filler for paper production, to production of fibreboard and particle board, to every conceivable type of food container, to a ton of other products I’m sure that I just don’t know about. Geez, guess I need to learn more about this valuable Louisiana staple other than I love me some in my cup of Joe.
Anyway, as I drove along, windshield wipers clearing the seemingly endless layer of mist from my view, I gained a new appreciation for that white gold on my way to a site of another type of white gold and some red gold to boot. Life as a sugarcane farmer, like most agricultural professions, certainly can’t be easy. The sugarcane industry has taken some pretty hard hits from past hurricanes, especially from Katrina, Rita, Gustav and Ike. From what I understand, many of these farmers have been able to rebound, but unfortunately many have not. Throw in land loss and saltwater intrusion, and it’s not tough to imagine that it’s probably not going to get any easier for them in the near future.
Alright, so as I traveled along with LA-329 in my sights…holy cow, is it really that late already? Man, I haven’t shown you one of the 442 pictures I took yet, but unfortunatley it’s time to go make a buck to feed me and the Blue dog. See y’all tomorrow.
Head West Old Woman, Head West November 23, 2009
Posted by dianehuhn in Bayou Life, Coastal Restoration, Ramblings, Travels.Tags: Coastal Restoration, Community Coffee, LSU football, New Orleans Saints
4 comments
So yesterday morning I decided to put a few chores on the back burner and head west for a few adventures. I’ve not explored much of the beauties of south-western Loozy, although if you want to get all technical, my intended destination would probably be more appropriately deemed to reside in south-central Louisiana. And while every day really is an adventure when living life in the Louisiana wetlands, I was yearning for some new vistas.
At 6:00 AM, I grabbed my coat and grabbed my hat (it was a tad chilly and drizzily), left my worries at my doorstep, and hoped the sunny side of the street would be at my back. Unfortunately, the sun never did make much of an appearance except for about 30 seconds on my way back east. Guess it just wanted to show those meteorologists who’s boss.
Anyway, I made a quick stop at a local convenience store to get a little more Community Coffee pulsing through my veins. When you get down the bayou, a lot of the convenience stores tend to exhibit a flavor all their own which is decidedly different from the typical, I-could-be-in-anytown-USA, northern Express Mart flavor.
When you patronize one of these spots, you’re almost guaranteed the opportunity to satisfy that grease fix that accompanies fried chicken whether it’s on a stick or served up in the standard red and white checkered cardboard tray. And if chicken doesn’t fit the bill, no worries. Shrimp, oysters, crawfish, catfish, jalapenos and a multitude of other such fare should grace the menu as long as you don’t ask for it lightly sautéed in a nice lemon-pepper butter sauce. Should you desire a little beef or pork, sausage biscuits and boudin should do the trick and the jerky products typically have an entire aisle to themselves. And if you’d like to wash down all that fried goodness with a spot of Jack, no problem, just ask the clerk to grab you a bottle from behind the counter. And if you got a few dollars left in your pocket, you can slip behind the red or green swinging doors and play a few hands of video poker to see if lady luck is on your side.
So as I prepared the perfect cup of joe, the usual gang was there decked out in their LSU caps, well-worn work garb and white shrimp boots. I had arrived too late for the play-by-play recap of yesterday’s Tiger’s game and too early for the predictions for the afternoon’s Saints game, but had arrived just in time for the another favorite subject…
“I heard they’re going to close that canal and put some kind of thing that lets the water flow through.” “You know, what they don’t think about is a back-up plan.” “Yeah, well I heard they was going to put a bunch of rocks out there.” And it basically goes on and on with a whole host of “I’ve heard’s” for quite some time until someone says “You know there’s only one thing that’s going to save us. And that’s if we all just get the #@$! out of here.” Laughter erupts for about seventeen seconds and then the realization hits that such a scenario could be all too true and to dismiss that painful thought as swiftly as it arrives, the conversation quickly moves to the “What they outta do’s”. And it’s too bad more of the folks in charge don’t sit in on some of these conversations, cause these guys know a whole lot about this landscape and how it works and some of those “outta do’s” are pretty dog-gone smart.
But, time was a-wasting. So, armed with twenty ounces of goodness, $4 of jerky and a full tank of gas, it was time to head up the bayou…but, unfortunately it’s now time to hit the pavement. To be continued…
What’s in a Number? November 17, 2009
Posted by dianehuhn in Bayou Life, Louisiana Wildlife, Photography, Ramblings.Tags: mullet
6 comments
So in my last post, I basically let the entire world know (well, maybe not the entire world, maybe more like 5 people) that I just turned 40. And the other night the Momster called to wish me a happy birthday and was like, “I read on that Blue Dog thing (ok, Mom, it’s called a blog) that you are lamenting your age.” And well, that’s not really it at all. It’s really more like, “What? Are we sure about this math? Hold on a sec. 2009 minus 1969 equals…wait, let me try this with a calculator. Ok, then. 2-0-0-9 minus 1-9-6-9. Hmmm…that’s weird. I guess it does equal 40. Or maybe this is just some kind of new fangled math. Yes, yes, that must be it.”
And again, don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m upset about this or something. I mean, I’m not having a mid-life crisis or anything. It’s just kind of weird, you know? Like…ok, hmmm…strange how that time thing works isn’t it? I mean, when I was a youngster, I pretty much figured I’d never make it past 30 so I think I kind of had my mid-life crisis at 15. And I’m sure the Momster will attest to that. Why I thought I wouldn’t make it past thirty is a tad fuzzy now, but I remember hanging out with my high school friends (who are now 40 or quickly approaching it which totally does not seem right either) trying to get someone to buy us alcohol (ok, Mom, just pretend you didn’t read that) and talking about Y-2-K although no one called it that at the time. It was just like, “oh my gosh, how weird is it going to be on December 31, 1999? Hey, we should all make a pact to get together for that New Year’s in New York City or something. That would be rad! We’ll party like it’s 1999!”
But honestly, I don’t remember exactly where I was or what I did on that New Year’s Eve, but I do remember getting up on January 1, 2000 and being glad that my alarm clock still worked and the TV stations were still on the air and my computer booted up just fine and there wasn’t some kind of “The Day After” landscape out my window. Not that I thought that was going to happen, but hey, no one knew for sure right?
Anyway, I guess I don’t have any new wisdom to share or insights in to the meaning of it all. I’m just thinking it’s time to enjoy another beautiful south Louisiana day and share a few pics of mullet flying through the air in all their majesty. What do you think? Isn’t that what it’s really about? Just enjoying where you are and who you’re with (but don’t take for granted that they’re going to be there tomorrow) and giving yourself a little challenge to be a better person than the day before? Not sure, but it works for me.
So…I’ve challenged myself to learn a little bit about the behavior of the mullet (from the family mugilidae). And let’s just say that they are a strange kind of bird in the world of south Louisiana fish. They seem to be best known for their jumping behavior although, honestly, nobody seems to have any definitive answers as to why they jump so much. Some say they jump to avoid predators. Others to say it’s to get rid of parasites. Who knows? But what I do know is that they jump a lot and they jump quickly and it’s not so easy to catch them in mid-jump with a camera. Most of the time, try as you might, you end up with something like this…
or this…
But with a little practice, you start to learn that mullet are kind of predictable. They typically jump about 3-4 times in a row. But if they flutter a little on that first jump, they probably won’t jump again right away. But if they fly out of the water on that first jump, you can sort of figure out where to aim the camera for the second, third, and if you’re lucky, fourth jumps. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to grab a good shot. Most of time you (well, me) get something like this…
Oh geez, I think that’s a fish. What is that? So, you just sit and wait and tune in your ears and eyes and try your luck again. Jump, click. Damn. Jump, click. Damn. Ok, well at least you can tell it’s a fish that time. Ooh, cool, he’s upside down.
Alright, let’s try again. And again. And again. Yes, definitely got him that time. Well, maybe not. But better.
Ok, come on guys. I’m getting tired and now the mosquitos are descending. Give me a break will ya? Alright, a little better. But could you jump a little straighter next time?
Ok, one more time and I’m outta here. Where is that bug spray?
Alright, my little flying fish friends, that’s gonna have to do it for today. We’ll try this again some other time. If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to be one giant mosquito bite. Oh, that’s a beautiful south Louisiana sunset. Click. Ahhh…thank’s buddy.
Shooting Mullet November 14, 2009
Posted by dianehuhn in Bayou Life, Coastal Restoration, Friends, Ramblings.Tags: Coastal Restoration, Cocodrie, cypress swamp, Fishing, land loss, louisiana wetlands, Louisiana Wildlife, Mauvis Bois
7 comments
So yesterday held the last few hours of my 30s and I decided to kick off work a little early and try my luck at shooting photographs of mullet. And no, not the bad hairstyle variety, but the flying fish variety. It seemed like a challenge and I love a good challenge. I found a nice spot out in the marsh and a relaxing pile of dirt from which to sit upon. And I typically try not to get all philosophical as my birthday approaches, but my mind started to wander a tad.
I’ve been “down de bayou” for a little over a year now. I originally planned on being here for only a year to hopefully help a few people and figure out what it is that I want to be when I grow up. And now I’m forty. How the hell did that happen? And am I supposed to be grown up by now? Cause I don’t feel anymore grown up today than I did yesterday, or a year ago, or five years ago, or let’s just be honest, twenty years ago.
So anyway, let’s just say that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about that “what the heck do I want to be when I grow up” stuff lately. I’ve certainly had a great ride thus far and generally speaking I really enjoy where I am. I’ve got a pretty cool job that certainly beats the heck out of sitting in a gray cubicle every day. If I want to get all officialized…my designated job title is Environmental Outreach Volunteer Coordinator. Geez…doesn’t that sound important? And well, it is pretty darn important when I think about it.
Has it been easy getting to this point? Yes and no. Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love my job and I one hundred percent absolutely, positively, unequivocally LOVE where I live. But has the last year, two months and change been easy? Well, in a nutshell, no.
You see, I’ve moved to a place that I absolutely adore, but it’s also a place that doesn’t necessarily adore me. I’m an outsider. Always have been and probably always will be. I’m pretty sure I could live here 30 years and still be called a Yankee. Again, don’t get me wrong. I have found some truly amazing people here that I can most certainly call friends, but when it comes to finding some real, “hey I need to sit in a boat, drop a line, have a beer and chat about life” buddies, well that’s been a different story. And yes, I do know myself well enough to admit that I’m not necessarily the easiest person to get to know.
But while bayou folks are extremely friendly, let’s just say that they’re a wee bit quirky. Actually, if I get my psychology hat on, they tend to exhibit a fair amount of paranoia. And probably for good reason. They’ve been promised a whole lot of stuff by a whole lot of people and been let down a whole lot of times. But that doesn’t mean I’m saying that they’re not good people and willing to help a girl out when she needs it. I mean I know if I’m in a jam, there are a bunch of folks that I can call to get me out of it, but just finding someone I can really let it all hang out with has been a challenge. So maybe in one sense the last year and change has been easy, but has it been lonely? Yes, at the end of the day, it has been lonely.
I was talking to a man the other day that I feel I can call friend. He’s a pretty important guy in my book and is a man that I have the utmost respect for. He’s got a whole lot riding on his shoulders. His job entails a great deal of travel and meetings and securing funding and basically all the stuff that I don’t miss about my previous life. I said “Geez, it must be hard to travel all over and sit in all those meetings when you’d probably rather be on a ridge planting marsh grass or paddling around a bayou looking for some fish.” He said “Yes, but I do it so my staff can do what they do best.”
And I thought about the last year and change and started to wonder if that’s kind of what my role is. I may never be truly accepted here, but can I work hard to make a difference in people’s lives and the lives of their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren? Well, I certainly hope so. Do I need them to understand that and give me a pat on the back? Well, it’d be nice, but at the end of the day, no.
From the depths of my soul, what I really want is to just see this place still exist in forty years. I probably won’t be here since I’ve not been all that kind to my body during the previous forty years, but I want someone who loves this place the way I do to be able to sit with a camera on the same bank I sat on last night and try to take pictures of mullet flying through the air and watch ospreys and egrets and herons fly overhead and hear owls hooting in the distance and time how long the diving ducks stay under water looking for something eat.
Do I think that can happen? Well, I sure hope so, but honestly, if things continue the way they are right now, in forty years the bank I sat on last night will probably be under 14 feet of water and the herons and the ospreys and the egrets and the owls and diving ducks won’t have any place to land and maybe saltwater sport fisherman will venture this far down to try their luck, but who the heck knows if there will actually be any fish to catch because maybe this spot will just be part of a big giant dead zone.
Does this make me beyond sad? You bet it does. Do I feel like packing my bags and heading someplace else at times? You bet I do. Do I really want to do that? Hell no!
So what is it that I really want to do? I want to stay where I am and fight to restore and protect the place that I have grown to love for the people I have come to care deeply for. And if you really want to know the truth, what I really want is to get the President, the head honcho of the Army Corps of Engineers, the head of the EPA, and the few handful of other people that really and truly have the power at their finger tips to change things to go fishing with me in Cocodrie. I want them to hook a big ole bull red or two or three or twelve. I want my good buddy Kevin to cook them a delicious Jambalaya. I want my good buddy Wendy to take them up to the Mauvais Bois to teach them about bayou culture and see the wonders of a cypress swamp. I want them to sit on the deck of a camp, kick back with a few cold ones and watch the ospreys and the egrets and the herons and the owls and the diving ducks and all manner of spectacular wildlife and watch a sunset of orange and red and yellow and purple and blue. I want them to see for their own eyes what I love so dearly. Because, in my heart, I believe that if they could experience for a day what I experience every day, there wouldn’t be any question about the national importance of saving the community I call home (even if the people around here don’t think it’s my home). In fact, if we could make that happen, I feel like I could almost guarantee that we could get our priorities straight and saving this place would become job #1 for the United States instead of sending brave men and women off to their deaths half way around the world in the name of democracy.
I mean, how is it that my community is allowed to slip acre by acre in to the Gulf of Mexico every single day and almost no one in Washington, DC seems to give a damn? I mean, really, how is that possible? Do they just not know? How could they not know? Do they just not care? How could they not care? Do they just think we’re not that important? HOW COULD THEY POSSIBLY BELIEVE THIS? How is it possible that they sit idly by while an entire way of life is being sent to its death in their own backyard?
I mean, come on people. I can spout the figures. My communities, my beloved bayou people, supply 30 percent of the domestic oil and natural gas for the rest of this nation. My communities, my beloved bayou people, supply 30 percent of the domestic seafood on your plates. My communities, my beloved bayou people, operate 10 of the 14 major seaports that serve this nation and the world beyond. My communities, my beloved bayou people, work hard every single day to make this nation what it is. They are dedicated to this country. Why is it that their country is NOT dedicated to them?
I just don’t understand. Could someone out there please explain it to me? Am I just wasting my time? Am I sacrificing that well paying corporate job waiting out in middle America for me to try to save a place that the US government has simply written off? Am I just a fool to think that my friends’ children and grandchildren and great grandchildren can live in and toil in and care for this place that I so love? Yes, I do understand that it’s a “complicated” issue. But is it really? Is it really so complicated that we can’t get those handful of people who said they wanted to be in charge of our well being to sit down and figure it out if we just put our minds to it?
I mean really, Mr. President, sit in the marsh with me, cast a line with me, meet the people I call friends, and tell me to my face that this place and this way of life is not worth saving. Because every day that we as Americans sit by and do not make saving this American treasure a national priority is a day that we pound another nail in the coffin on a place and a people and a culture that is of vital importance to the health and prosperity of the place that I used to be proud to call the United States of America. Please make me proud once again. Please renew my faith. Please give me the audacity to hope for change and a better tomorrow. Please tell me that yes we can save my home so that future generations can call it home.
So I just realized my intention when I started this post was really just to share a few photographs of mullet flying through the air in all their majesty…but maybe we’ll just have to save that for another day my friends cause it’s my birthday and I’m grabbing my new fishing pole to see if I can rustle up some fish for dinner and hope that I don’t accidentally get shot by the folks trying to rustle up some duck for dinner. Thank you to all of my friends and buddies who make restoration and protection a priority in their lives and work tirelessly to make it a priority in the lives of others.
A Monarch Minute? Or is that a Gulf Fritillary Minute? October 12, 2009
Posted by dianehuhn in Louisiana Wildlife, Photography, Ramblings.Tags: agraulis vanillae, eagle, gulf fritillary, institute for sustainable communities, louisiana butterflies, osprey, passion butterfly
2 comments
So I’ve been pretty busy lately. I spent two wonderful days in the Lower 9th Ward this week at an Institute for Sustainable Communities network meeting, have been preparing for a week of advocacy presentations in Chicago and a funders tour in the 5 Bayous and a possible trek to DC following Chi-town. And on top of all that, I even managed to get a little fishing in yesterday thanks to BW, and although I didn’t manage to get any fish in the boat, I’m happy that BW did.
I also happened to be passing my favorite photog spot, and even though I really needed to be making 12,000 copies and burning 100 DVDs, I decided to stop for a few minutes and see if my friends Mr. Osprey and Mr. Eagle might swing by to say hello. Although they didn’t stop by that day, they did swing by the boat yesterday for a very quick flyby.
Yes, that is an osprey and an eagle. Really, I swear. And this photo reminds me of a recent post I made about the importance of never, ever leaving home without my camera. Well, let’s just say that if you live in south Louisiana, you should never, ever leave home without your camera, but you should also make sure you’ve got the right lens locked in place cause you just never know. Oh well, better luck next time.
So, anyway, back to my quick stop at my favorite photog perch…while Mr. Eagle and Mr. Osprey didn’t stop by that day, another winged creature did. Don’t know much about these kind of winged creatures and originally thought this was a Monarch. But that’s not even close I’ve since learned. Near as I can tell this is actually a Gulf Fritally (agraulis vanillae), also known as the Passion Butterfly. Well, I think.
For more Gulf Fritillary Minute photos, click here.
To view the video I’ve been making copies of, click here.
And to check out the photos from my amazing and inspiring trip to the Lower 9th Ward, click here.
Next stop…the Windy City. Later gators!
The Art of Simplicity is a Puzzle of Complexity October 9, 2009
Posted by dianehuhn in Ramblings.7 comments
I know it’s a little early for a Christmas story, but just come with me on this trip down memory lane. Every Christmas, someone in my family would invariably get a puzzle. It was usually my brother. And after all the presents had been torn open, thank you’s exchanged, and the blizzard of wrapping paper collected and hauled out to the trash, the puzzle box would get opened and the pieces dumped on the dining room table.
And so the dance would begin. While Grandma worked away on preparing our holiday feast in the kitchen, three or four of us would start flipping all the pieces over trying to sort out, and set aside, the edge pieces. Hands would start bumping in to each other and apologies would be exchanged.
Sometimes you’d get lucky and two or three pieces would already be assembled having snuck through the box-shaking machine at the puzzle factory. But the rest of the 4982 pieces would just be strewn about the table taunting us.
Sometimes two or three people would sit at the table while munching on Grandma’s infamous sugar and molasses cookies trying to stave off the hunger pangs induced by the incredible smells emanating from the kitchen. Grandma would occasionally glance out of the kitchen at the puzzle put-er-togethers and then return to whipping up mashed potatoes and monitoring the progress of the turkey and ham in the oven.
Throughout the day, Grandma would continue her peeks out of the kitchen. Sometimes she’d see a group huddled over the puzzle as the pieces started to fall together. Sometimes she’d find just a lone soul, head shifting back and forth from the dwindling pile of pieces to the incomplete, but taking shape, scene. Sometimes the table would be abandoned momentarily while moans and groans at a missed field goal could be heard around the television.
And although we all knew in the back of our minds that the puzzle would not be completed in time for the table to be set for dinner, no one protested when the pieces had originally been dumped on the table. As Mom stared the usual “We need some help setting the table” routine, we’d started searching about for a nice suitable piece of cardboard and began the delicate process of transferring our “work in progress” to be set aside for later.
After the dessert dishes had been cleared, the puzzle, now resting on its cardboard perch would return to the table and the dedicated would continue on with our mission while the not-so-dedicated found a quiet corner from which to nap. But, as if sensing the approach of something big, various and sundry relatives would awake from their slumber and begin circling the table looking for an empty chair. Grandma’s peeks out of the kitchen became more frequent.
The suspense was incredible. Hands and arms began flailing about. More apologies at accidental bumps. And then, the group groan could be heard by the few faithful sports fans in the living room. How could it be?
And without fail, Grandma would stroll out of the kitchen, reach in to the front pocket of her flour and gravy-stained apron, and pop in that last piece of the puzzle proclaiming her victory and our defeat.
And that’s when I’d always remember that each piece of the puzzle is equally important. And I guess I learned a little something about life—something that I try to remind myself of every day. I am but one piece of the puzzle and I don’t mean a hill of white beans unless I’m connected to all the other pieces.
Are You Lucky? August 29, 2009
Posted by dianehuhn in Ramblings.1 comment so far
I am a very lucky person. Not much else to say for tonight.
Being in the Right Place At the Right Time August 22, 2009
Posted by dianehuhn in Bayou Life, Louisiana Wildlife, Photography, Ramblings.Tags: lightning, osprey, Photography, south Louisiana
6 comments
So yesterday as I was driving home, a fairly large storm system was headed our way. Now I just happened to be coming up on one of my favorite scenic panorama areas from which I take many photos so I decided to pull over at my usual spot. The sky was getting pretty electric and I wanted to see if I might be able to get at least one good shot of a lightning bolt. This is no small task I might add. I’ve tried a number of times before with no or very little success. In actuality, I’ve only managed two shots of lightning in my whole life–both on the same day and both not very good–and I’m fairly certain that I came close to risking my life for one of them which wasn’t too bright of me. But at least I had the pleasure of saying that I’ve got a couple of lightning shots in my portfolio.
So before the rain started flying I decided to crawl up in the bed of the pickup for a better vantage point. Now I do understand that that is probably not the best place to be when the lightning is flying, but the storm was still well off to the west and I didn’t feel that I was putting myself in any danger. So there I sat. Camera at the ready. Bolt. Click. Damn, too late. Another bolt. Click. Click. Shoot. Too late again. Wow. Huge burst of lightning. Click. Click. Click. Curses. This is impossible. Oh no. Do I feel sprinkles? Yep. Ok, well I’ll see if I can get anything from inside the truck.
Bolt. Bolt. Click. Click. Nothing! Ok, well, maybe I should just try to get some other interesting shots and make do with what I’ve got. Maybe every time I try taking pics during a storm it’s like I’m building up some reservoir of sub-conscious lightning knowledge. You know, like if I keep doing this enough, eventually I will just instinctively know where to point my camera for the next big strike. Yeah, I know that’s probably not possible. Lightning is unpredictable. I know that. But, maybe, just maybe. Some day when I’m old and gray. Oh wait, I am old and gray now aren’t I? Well, that’s not what I mean. You know what I mean.
Alright, time to get home. I’ll just work with what I have and chalk the rest up to a learning experience. I know I got some good shots earlier in the day of some cats in an old shed like this…
and this…
And I’m pretty sure I got an interesting pic of a water droplet on my window like this…
and I think I got a semi-decent shot of that bird. What is that? An osprey I think. I’m not positive though.
And then, there it was. In all it’s glory. Yeah, baby! Who said practice doesn’t pay off in the end?
What’s It All About? August 20, 2009
Posted by dianehuhn in Ramblings, Uncategorized.Tags: environment, meaning of life, philosophy
8 comments
So I’ve been feeling fairly philosophical lately. You know, just kind of thinking about life and what’s it all about. And since I’ve been kind of struggling with a case of writer’s block I was thinking that maybe the meaning of life would make a good blog posting. I’m not exactly sure what it is about this writer’s block thing. I mean it’s not as if I have felt completely uninspired or something. I’ve actually had a bunch of experiences lately that I wanted to share with you all, but every time I sit down at my computer to tell you about a marsh planting or a beach sweep or a trip to the state capitol or to let you know about the fun and exciting projects I’m working on like re-designing our volunteer program or hitting the road in my home on wheels for a nationwide environmental tour, my brain just shuts down on me and I find myself staring at a blank computer screen. And then my mind starts to wander and I end up someplace that I hadn’t expected to. Kind of like right now.
I mean, how did I get here? I sat down to write about the meaning of life and now I’m just rambling on and on about some inane dribble banging around in my head. I mean, I guess it’s better that I’m actually writing something. Right? Something is better than nothing, yes? Maybe not. Seriously, who wants to read a bunch of weird, stream of consciousness rants by someone like me. I guess it’d be different if I really had some interesting insights or something, but as you are sorely aware, I do not have anything close to some brillant words of wisdom to offer you. I mean, I thought I did. I had totally made the decision to sit here and write until I could share some wonderful revelation about the meaning of life with you and I haven’t really even said one thing about it.
I know I should just buckle down and stay focused on the task at hand. Maybe I need to make myself an outline. Yep, that’s probably the ticket. You can never go wrong with a good outline. Isn’t that what they always taught us in school? Think it threw before you write. You know, I’m always confused by the word “threw.” I mean, is it “think it through” or “think it threw” or “think it thru”. I’m pretty sure it’s not that last one. But I can never remember the difference between “threw” and “through”. Do you only use “threw” if it’s like “I threw the ball” or “a piece of debris came threw the windshield”? Reminder to self, I should go back and review my vocabulary notebook from middle school. Do I even have that anymore? I bet my mom has it somewhere squirreled away. Maybe I should call her. Geez, I haven’t call my mom in a while. I’m a bad daughter. Hold on a sec. I’ll be right back. I need to call my mom.
Ok, my mom says “hi!” to everyone.
Alright, where was I. Oh yes, the meaning of life. Here goes.
The Meaning of Life
by Diane Huhn
Ummmm…well…I guess, ahhhh…mmmm…
I think it’s a good idea to try to be nice to other people and try to do good things for others and always have a good topic sentence to work with.
The End.
Thank you for stopping by. Have a nice day! And remember…happiness is a warm sunny day at the beach. Hey do you remember those “Happiness is” posters they used to have in the 80s? They always seemed to have those pictures of kittens or puppies on them. They were just so adorable and you just wanted to eat them up. Well, not literally eat them up cause that would be really weird. And really gross. Shoot! I’m doing it again. Just say no to stream of consciousness writing. It’s never a good idea! And now I’m late for work. Well, not really late. But now I’ve only got like 15 minutes to get ready instead of 30. Darn it!
