I have now sufficiently recovered from the excitement a couple of months ago when I had a MAJOR EVENT happen at Possum Valley. I am now back to the usual beat of reporting insignificant trivia. I like insignificant trivia, because major reportable events are mostly bad. Just look at the news. Some news outlets struggle to find the last 20 second ‘good news’ story. Some don’t bother. So my deduction is that news is nearly all bad, especially when it happens to you. So be careful when you ask for some excitement in your life, you might just get it. The Chinese had philosophy worked out before the Greeks even invented the word, hence the well known Chinese curse “May you live in interesting times”. The Rohingya are living in interesting times, Puerto Ricans have had a surfeit of excitement. So pardon me while I settle back into the comforting arms of the boring, the mundane and the inconsequential.
So the headline news is that I am sad to report that the white female duck died in my arms a few days ago. A boy from Blackbean Cottage came to see me saying the white duck was rather sick. I went down to the cottage to find the white duck gently wrapped in a towel lying on the veranda. It was completely floppy and didn’t respond to the insults of being molested. The only sign of life was blinking of the eyes. Oh dear, this duck was way beyond ‘rather sick’. I said some serious, but I hope consoling words to the boy about how maybe I could give some food to the duck. A total lie, but not all lies are bad. I think the duck died before I got her to the homestead. I laid her in the workshop for some time still wrapped in the towel in case of divine intervention. There was none, so I tossed the corpse off into the rainforest.
The next night I heard the usual clatter in the kitchen of a possum raid, but managed to ignore it for some time. When I belatedly decided to exert my authority, I discovered a possum scampering for the exit, and a dead possum in the middle of the kitchen floor. Ah, a changing of the guard. Senior possum dies and a new generation literally steps over the corpse to pursue the high value food source that is my vegie scraps bin. The expired possum had no signs of attack. I have not a single night of respite before another raider steps up to the mark. The dead possum joined the duck.
Other notes on the changing seasons is the new blush of leaves on the hairy-leaved bolly gum, also known as brown salwood to forestry, also known as black wattle to the woodies, also known as litsea dealbata to taxonomists, but hey, even they can’t agree and I think it may be neolitsea dealbata now. Or perhaps the other way around. Also the sasparillas are at peak flowering and the hum of bees fills the air. March flies are about and also swarms of flying termites this afternoon so I had to vigourously shake the sheets on the line before folding to exclude these insects. I am sure future guests will have no idea the lengths I go to to ensure their comfort.
Another seasonal adjustment occurred this morning when I went to change the nozzle on the hydro turbine for a smaller one. The creek is diminished and so the power delivered is reduced. Rather early in the year for this to happen. Very little rain over the last few months. Very warm also. Seems like summer has occurred in spring. Perhaps we should forget spring. So many temperature records being broken, I think global warming is accelerating at an alarming rate. Most models of a few years ago are behind the current data. Mass extinction events typically happen every couple of hundred million years. I think you would have to say it was amazingly bad luck that I am living through one of them. I am an optimist so think humans have the ingenuity to survive the crisis. However, I think would be a pity to have only scrubby bushes and slime molds for company.
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