Air Water Earth Publications

Here is one of the January 13 videos....

It was one of the wildest nights we’ve experienced on the Southwest Coast of B.C. The rain swept across the windows in great swaths, the wind howled and huffed, and some unknown metal structure groaned. I thought of the misguided peacock who wanders our area, the songbirds, and the struggling homeless people who may or may not have found a dry bed. The lights flickered, so as everyone else slept I sought out flashlight and candles. I wondered if our newly checked roof would hold fast. The morning brought blue sky and great celebration in the avian community. It was a delight to watch flocks of tiny birds zipping in and out of the branches, jumping on the deck and flipping over the leaves. If you were too hard at work to see them, I will attach a bit of video to celebrate the blue sky on January 13, 2021.

Sea Fog Escape By Deborah Greaves November 2020 Two days after the first full moon in October 2020, my friend Lorie was ready for adventure. This was her first visit to our place in Gibsons since Covid19 turned our civilization upside down. Lorie is an avid outdoorswoman who loves the forest and the sea, and her visits are a joy. ...Continue reading

Hello everyone...thanks so much to those of you who have visited the Air Water Earth Publications page even though we’ve shared so rarely over the past year. AWE Publications is quiet lately, but still cherished. A short story is coming soon. Meanwhile, we’ll post a photo that carries a hint.

We had a handsome Alaskan Malamute/Siberian Husky who was certain he should have the same rights as human citizens: 'Do not force your affections on me; this is MY body and I will determine what is done with it and to it ; I will come to you when I decide to, if it seems reasonable to do so and if you make it sound like fun; I do not live to serve you, I'm here to be a friend because you too like to go for walks and explore; if you try to force me, I'll writhe and pull aw...ay but if you respect me and ask me kindly, I'll do it when I'm ready.' He did not mind being on the leash because he knew his own instincts and didn't even trust himself- as long as we were moving forward as a team, he was happy. When you examine the history of ancient sled dog and human hunting teams, it makes sense that our dog did not approve of salt water in liquid form- sled dogs in the arctic were likely about to drown if the ice broke down and sent the team into the sea. Our dog was a good swimmer and loved to wade in creeks and freshwater lakes during hot weather, but he was never keen on the ocean. The first time we brought an X-back harness to him, he practically put it on himself. He pulled happily but with no leadership discretion- he was all about investigation, and was barely aware of whatever he was pulling. He knew the Northern hunting tactic of cracking ice with stiff front legs. He could dispatch a rodent, bird or snake in the blink of an eye, and was excited about hunting moose, deer, horses, cattle, bears, coyotes, young livestock, small game and ..cats. He actually roared at bears, who turned and ran. He was a fabulous athlete. We got him out of ‘jail’ when he was turning three years old and he lived to 15 years and a week. After living with a sweet German Shepherd then a dynamic Belgian Shepherd, life with sled dog Solo was different and intriguing. We wouldn't have missed it for the world. See more

Hope someone can adopt this charming pair .

Listening to the water in the creek and the wind in the tall alder trees, I wonder again at the contempt with which many humans view so many species. It makes m...e sad that foresters, with government blessing, remove deciduous trees from cut blocks because those trees, beautiful as they may be, don't turn to cash during harvest. It turns out that those deciduous trees, with their moisture filled, broad leaves, are rather like nature's protective curtain, raising a green wall between wildfires and the dark conifers. Arbutus, alders, and so many other gorgeous trees are those that are often contemptuously referred to as 'dirty' or 'weed' trees because they curl their bark, shed their leaves or rise too high into the air. When we lived in the Okanagan, it was magnificent, specialized Ponderosa Pines that humans complained about. Rather than appreciate their regal beauty and resistance to fire, people whined about the dropped needles and cones, having no appreciation for the way these lovely trees are adapted to their locale. Here on the Coast, our tall alders are drinking water and holding the embankment near us together, while their leaves dance and rustle and the trees ask nothing in return. The arborist told us we should turn to other old friends for additional help - Oregon Grape, and salmonberry shrubs. Although so many humans long ago lost appreciation for the intricate natural web, some of us understand everything has value. Though people often fail to see how it all fits together, the truth is it does. Everything in the natural environment is there for a reason. We urge you to walk out there, relax, and carefully look. See more

How do you feel about very sad stories, about books loaded with tragedy?

If you have a funny feeling you're read this before, you're not going crazy. I posted it on my other page. Ignore this post if you have read the one accompanying the photo of the dog running with red packsacks on . However, if you have a dog you are not sure of- an unpredictable dog, a young dog, an untrained dog, a borrowed dog- you too might want to read this. It is well worth a few extra minutes to do things the safe way when you are not sure as guardian of a high-power...ed dog. If you can't be sure what the dog will do in various situations, you need to have your wits about you. While opening vehicles, gates or doors, secure the dog first. If you allow the dog off leash, avoid areas near hazards such as roadways with traffic or farmyards with guard dogs. Scan the horizon every few seconds for animals the dog may zoom after- people who own livestock are legally permitted to kill your dog if it is menacing their animals or birds. Dogs don't always make friends easily. Understand that dogs can wound and even kill one another. Ensure your leashes, harnesses and collars are of the best, no-break variety and collars cannot pop over your dog's head. When in doubt, leash the dog. Commit to a life of exercise- for you. Keep gates locked, fences high and your mind open. Signed, Someone Who Learned the Hard Way See more

Here is another little cutie.

I shared my poem 'In Honour of the poet Shane Koyczan- and my hero, our Blue Planet' with a lovely friend today. It's an assault on gentle souls, so it didn't feel good to share it with a person who is sensitive, thoughtful and kind. At my sister's urging, I've been making an effort to suppress negativity and my eco-anxiety, BUT over three decades living in three regions, I learned about and saw practices in fields and forests, streams and wetlands that broke my heart. So I compressed thirty years of disappointment, sorrow and outrage into one poem. Hugh Macauley has posted it on his website in both text and audio on www.coastindependent.com. If you click Read More, you will find the audio bar. If you listen, your hands will be free in the event you wish to hit something.

It Still Rains in Winter A Post Card Story for the Gibsons and District Public Library competition, August 2018 by Diana Earth ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Callum slumped in a dark chair in the study. He didn’t want to be in this weird town, without friends. Again, his mother had pulled a crazy. ... Being twelve sucked. You could be dragged all over Hell by your Parent. His mother didn’t seem ‘single’- she was a force. She’d managed to get the two of them onto a cargo ship. If only he could have saved at least one of his friends. Now he looked at this odd little woman he’d been told was his grandmother. Grammie was very short, had crazy white hair and wore thick glasses. He noticed her eyes weren’t blue, like Mum’s, but an odd pale brown. Her voice was surprising it didn’t sound old. ‘Things aren’t what they used to be,’ she said briskly. ‘People have said that forever, but now it’s deadly accurate. So we have to adapt.’ Callum looked out the window. He hadn’t seen trees since he was three. The wind was moving the were the green parts called leaves? They made a whispering sound. He wished he could tell his friend Dylan, but Dylan- ‘Why do you have trees here?’ he asked. ‘We were a little behind,’ said Grammie. ‘Small population of humans, more trees. People stopped pruning and let them go sky high for shade. We have animals just a few. More on land than in the water, of course. Sea here is thrashed like most places.’ ‘How do the people and animals get drinking water?’ Callum asked, wondering. No one at home had pets. No one he knew had seen a wild creature. ‘We catch the rain, and filter it,’ said Grammie. ‘There’s still rain in winter.’ ‘The roads sparkle, ’ observed Callum. ‘Yep- we stopped piling up jam jars and went back to grinding them,’ said Grammie, ‘but we didn’t make asphalt. Too hot. So we made the roads pale.’ Luckily, the gleaming silvery roads worked well with electric vehicles. They kept the heat down, too, and had a pacifying effect on people. Reminded the adults of streams. ‘Who’s Dylan?’ asked Grammie. ‘ A boy you know? Heard you say that name in your sleep. Stuff in the groundwater here, not many boys around.’ ‘He was my friend,’ Callum murmured. ‘Hey - why can’t people go on jets anymore?’ Grammie had her back to him now, but he thought her shoulders were shaking. ‘Well, they had to stop almost everything, to halt the Sixth Extinction.’ ‘Mum told me about the Extinction,’ said Callum. ‘ But what’s gone?’ ‘Gone and still going,’ said Grammie. Her voice was rough. He’d grown up in a huge city. He’d never seen fish, bears, deer or eagles. He hadn’t heard a frog or cricket, even a songbird. He’d never seen a river or walked in a forest. Here, there were trees. Grammie said there were a few insects; someone had seen a small bird. ‘Maybe we’ve stopped it,’ said Grammie. Her face softened. ‘And someday, Callum, you just might see a deer.’ - end- See more

Wow - both the celestial orbs pushed their way back into the skies today. After so much cloud and darkness on the South Coast, the sun bathed us all in its illuminating glow, painting the sky a vivid blue, pouring gold onto the branches of the trees and dropping diamonds onto the sea. Later, the sky turned mauve, and the glorious nearly-full moon powered her way up over the ridges of the North Shore mountains and Keats Island, smiling down on our little town. What a glorious world, bathing in the glow of local gifts from the heavens.

The Shoeless Horse has its official editor !

So many of us have been distraught about the seemingly constant assault on natural lands and assets. It's people of 'Boomer" age who both harvest and fret. The harvesters are directly and deeply involved, and the fretters ( aka mourners ) feel disregarded. I tried to make an active difference. I sat for years on volunteer committees and commissions, and the advice of our groups was generally disregarded. I've written letters and signed petitions. I used to write hundreds of published newspaper columns. What measurable results have I seen? what results have you seen?

Apparently, some therapists have arrived at a name for the increasing anxiety many people are feeling about the current state and coming fate of our world. I cannot recall the word for this anxiety, but I am among the many sufferers. Over the last fifty years, so-called Baby Boomers such as me, born in 1953, have somehow missed the heinous acts carried out on a regular basis against the planet. Somehow most Boomers have been looking the other way as members of our own demogr...Continue reading

Oh, oh. Here comes the big moon again- the magical orb that causes emotions to quicken, illuminates the night-world with a silvery glow and pokes its nosy rays into the depths of the forest. The does, awaiting new fawns, must dread the next full moons, the ones that will make it more difficult to hide their little ones at night. Swans have arrived nearby, their pale graceful necks heralding the rise of the pale round face that will grin down over us all, once that showy big Sun has departed for the day. The full moon over the sea is particularly enchanting...calling that it's time to resume night walks, mystically filled with strange and lovely shadows, glittering stars and that glowing, mischievous smile.

So pleased -- new marine conservation areas for the Howe Sound, and my book The Shoeless Horse is converted from a set of Episodes with both text and podcasts to an integrated single document . a few more episodes to come, which will be posted on coastindependent.com, and then wowza, the last few chapters blended in to a whole new project. Next, we get it edited while searching for publication possibilities. Then the screenplay. A whole new set of challenges for my little wild card project.

Outer Night Walking alone this winter night is slippery and uncertain; The coastal darkness envelopes all As I creep along through tree-shadowed depths, ... Disabled by uncertain feet and my lack of animal eyes. The air has a bite, just a little south of savage, Raking my cheeks with its velvet burn. And I see that tonight’s fresh chill has come with a gift: In celestial crystal patterns, a thousand stars glow above. The cold and dark remind me of my frailties, But I have on my warm coat, a good hat, and a lamp, While beside me walks an Arctic dog of ancient breed; Thickly protected, we are both grateful for the chill. The tree patterns play silently over the road shoulder. The sleek frost gleams, beautiful and treacherous underfoot, While the deer, and a Red-tailed Hawk who today displayed himself in a tree above this very path, have blended into the dark. The winter night, with its black pools and private calm Soaks me with humility and longing, with gratitude and awe; Another of the Naked Ones armed against elemental dangers, Swaddling our heavy heads and carrying our own light The night air murmurs gently, into my soul, sharing quiet messages as it continuously changes the sky- Rearranging the clouds, the wind, the water, the stars - Whispering its timeless chorus: ‘ Everything matters.’

Sometimes, in my daydreams, I am pacing up a slope in the forest to a grassy meadow, with fabulous animals beside me: a pale horse with a long, wavy mane, a Belgian Shepherd mix, and a stunning Northern dog. We move powerfully, all of us, because as a gift to me, a frail and ungainly biped, they have passed their wondrous strength. All our shared adventures, and those with other animals who helped shape my life, are understood. Somehow these magnificent creatures have forgiven me for the times I caused them to be bored, lonely or hurt, and even for taking their lives. We move through the trees and grasses, graceful and free.

If you missed my note on the Deborah Greaves page, you may not know that the handsome dog pictured at rest passed away on the very last day of January, 2019. Solo's last full day of life on Wednesday was a happy one. Russ and Deborah as well as Solo's dear friends Jeff and the Mexican dog Trotsky were around from morning until night. Together they enjoyed several walks in pleasant weather, and a multitude of treats. ... Our beloved dog had suffered a seizure on Tuesday while walking in the sunshine. He suffered two more seizures on Thursday morning and a third after the first medication . By 1 pm, our dog Solo was respectfully sent off by a team from The Landing Veterinary Clinic in our yard, just steps away from Solo's network of self-constructed dens. Five months after his initial seizure and first appointment to end his life, Solo enjoyed another wonderful Christmas with our daughters Dara and Tolmie and partners, and continued to enjoy himself until last week. Our Alaskan Malamute/ Siberian Husky was fifteen years and a week old when he passed on January 31. Russ and I can honestly say we enjoyed every day this intriguing sled dog was with us, even those days he shocked us with his sometimes wild and clever ways. Solo was living proof that sled dogs, working or not, CAN be adopted - as long as you do your research carefully to ensure you have time, a secure home and the reflexes for a high-energy dog who may be lightning fast and full of surprises. Our dog was close to three years old when we found him. Though we were told when we adopted him this dog had always been staked out in the yard, Solo had perfect house manners and was fine with houseguests both canine and human. He didn't mind relaxing time, as long as he got two to three walks every day... and of course, being a heavy-coated, antique type of Northern Dog, he always loved the cold. For several years in the Okanagan Valley and Calgary, Solo often wore his harness and pulled a sled. He took little children for rides and also pulled cargo on our snowshoe treks. He was so busy hunting while on the trail, he didn't seem to notice his cargo. The last two years were intermittently trying for all of us, as the dog often got us up at night as he went in and out of the house, restlessly pacing for hours every week. The seizures devastated Solo, leaving him shocked and horrified at becoming temporarily helpless. Solo has a beautiful grave with Rhonda's snowdrops growing around it, and we will never forget this athletic, intriguing and charming creature. We will NOT miss hours of vacuuming, always having our gates locked, fastening yellow ribbons onto his leash and needing to be eagle-eyed during walks. We are NOT getting another dog for a long, long time, and if we do, it will have to be an extraordinary creature - an animal every inch as special as our beautiful and spirited Northern Shadow of Apex.

Under the Rocks ------------------------ by Deborah Greaves My soul's outside ... under the rocks, the leaves, the snow, the rain. It lives in the furrows of the bark on the trees, in the dappled light on pools of water and among the waving grasses. It soars into the air in the moonlight, rests among the shadows and gleams on the water where my canoe paddle dips. My soul lingers in the print of a wild hoof and the scars of a feral paw. In the tiny blooms that spring from the earth and the delicate mosses that cling to fallen stems. My soul is out there, almost all the time, in the forest and the meadows. It comes inside only to share the glow of flickering candlelight, or the primal beauty of a fire. When the flames are silent and darkness falls, it slips out through the window casings and around the edges of the doors to be outside and free once again.

An interesting new experience, to be outside with our dog and suddenly stuck on an icy stretch of pavement, unable to go up or down, sliding helplessly while the weakest knee stretches and silently screams. Hobbling painfully for the next twenty dog walks, swearing to fetch knee braces, wraps, new boots.... but missing no walks. Yanking desperately at home on the twin banisters we installed on our steep interior stairs, so grateful for their help, marveling at the fact we i...nstalled them for the benefit of our mothers, humbled by my own need. Realizing how very lucky I have been, to arrive at age 65 with very few episodes of lameness all these many years of walking dogs for hours and hours every week. Gaining a new understanding of how much suffering those less fortunate have experienced with blown knees and hips, foot trouble. breathing struggles. Glad we have dogs around to keep us going outside in every kind of weather, to enjoy this beautiful part of the world and to work at keeping the bodies going, going. See more