Saturday potpourri

I had a pretty epi bloom yesterday. 

A branch was given to me by my old friend Greg Boren several years ago, a man who has been terribly incapacitated with MS.

The epi is named Clown and was hybridized by another old friend at the Epi Society, the late George French from Ocean Beach.

Beautiful flower.

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I ran into Warren Bishop in Hillcrest the other day, met him at a friend of his's shop near his home. 

Always great to see Warren, lots of Fallbrook misses him and I do too.

He's hobbling around pretty good, still has a lot of energy, at least a hell of a lot more than I do at this point.

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I also received a call from my great buddy Bruce Taylor, who flew in from Alabama to see Fallbrook "one last time." Don't think he was here for long...

Great to see my pals.

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There is a gofundme page to cover the funeral expenses of a poor Fallbrook kid named Santiago Gaspar. Killed by a drunk driver.

Give what you can.

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I caught a snap through my window of this homeless patriot walking across Main the other day.

Amused me for some reason.

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I stopped off at Lindo Lake after my treatment yesterday and shot this picture of the black crowned night heron. 

Hadn't seen one in a while.

Last call

A Salty Dog

Originalism, strikes again. Wasn't a crime in 1791...

I have been spending too much time over at Reason sparring with the faux libertarians. I have never seen as much bigotry, misogyny and homophobia as the commenters at VC. White supremacist replacement theory and worse.

This comment the other day was probably the final straw for me. The Supreme Court is now going to take up the case of taking weapons away from felons whose wives have protective orders. The Volohkians think it is a major affront to their second amendment rights.

But this comment from one regular named Ed said it all:

I'm out.

Savoy Brown

These Days

The Death of Balder

This is an ink wash painting that I have owned for the last fifteen years or so. The beloved Norse god Balder has been slain and his wife is at the river Helayid begging for his return.

I really like it but it is far too dark for most people. Most people would not want something so saturnine in their home and I understand that. Oh well. Another one to throw in my coffin on my expiration day.

But I have had a lifelong interest in all sorts of mythologies and this Norse tale is terribly bittersweet. I have shown it to Norwegian friends for an exact translation and they say that the very old form of their language is honestly beyond them. 

I wrote about the piece in 2010 and will plagiarize myself if it is okay with you, I am having a very difficult day and it will help me to cut a corner or two.

If I had the time and wasn't flat on my back I would straighten it and show it in optimal form. But I don't. I always thought it evoked a Picasso like "Don Quixote" quality.

This inkwash was painted by the Norwegian artist Louis Moe (1859-1945) in 1929. The painting shows the god Balder at the River Helayid. Balder was the Norse god of love and happiness, son of Odin and Frigg, the most beloved god in the Norse pantheon. Balder had a prophetic dream of his own death. He grasped the verity of his dream because he is the god of truth. His mother had the same dream. The death of Balder was foretold to be the event that would portend the destruction of the gods.

Frigg was worried and had all living creatures promise not to hurt her son. Every creature made the vow except for the mistletoe, being thought unimportant and too young to swear an oath.

The trickster Loki, Balder's cousin, had an arrow made of mistletoe and went to the place where the gods were casting spears at Balder. He gave the arrow to the blind god Höðr who cast it at Balder and killed him.

Balder was ceremonially burnt upon his ship, Hringhorni, the largest of all ships. As he was carried to the ship, Odin whispered an unanswerable riddle in his ear. Balder's wife Namma threw herself into the funeral fire to await Ragnarok, when he would be raised from the dead and reconciled with Höðr.

This painting shows Balder and Namma alongside Hel at the river Helayid. Frigg begged Hel through the messenger Hermod to release her son. Hel promised to release Balder from the underworld if all beings alive and dead would weep for him. And all did, except a giantess, Þökk, who refused to mourn the slain god. It turns out that she is actually Loki in disguise.  

And so we await the end of the world.

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I  always wondered why Marvel chose to feature another testosterone addled Thunder god with a hammer when Balder had such a beautiful story but so it is.

Their arrows flew above his head...

From the Edda:

Annar sonur Óðins er Baldur, og er frá honum gott að segja. Hann er svá fagr álitum ok bjartr svá at lýsir af honum, ok eitt gras er svá hvítt at jafnat er til Baldrs brár. Þat er allra grasa hvítast, ok þar eptir máttu marka fegrð hans bæði á hár og á líki. Hann er vitrastr ása ok fegrst talaðr ok líknsamastr. En sú náttúra fylgir honum at engi má haldask dómr hans. Hann býr þar sem heita Breiðablik, þat er á himni. Í þeim stað má ekki vera óhreint.

The second son of Odin is Baldur, and good things are to be said of him. He is best, and all praise him; he is so fair of feature, and so bright, that light shines from him. A certain herb is so white that it is likened to Baldur's brow; of all grasses it is whitest, and by it thou mayest judge his fairness, both in hair and in body. He is the wisest of the Æsir, and the fairest-spoken and most gracious; and that quality attends him, that none may gainsay his judgments. He dwells in the place called Breidablik, which is in heaven; in that place may nothing unclean be.

Out of the gate

Henry Wolff & Nancy Hennings - Tibetan Bells

Hummin"

 

First people

 

Native Dancers, Pow wow - San Luis Rey

On this celebration of the founding of our country I ask that you think of the people that were here before us, the Native Americans. We have not been fair to these people, we have taken their land, exterminated them and abrogated our word to them repeatedly.

It is estimated that the United States has broken at least fifteen of the three hundred and seventy one treaties we have made with the original inhabitants since 1777. I guess they didn't have enough sharp lawyers.

Recently the Navajo lost a major water case in front of the United States Supreme Court. 

There are no Americans that use less water than the Navajos and Hopis, every drop is precious to them. Many Navajo households live on a small fraction of the water most Americans use per day. More than 30 percent of the reservation lacks running water. Water hauled from miles away costs multiple times more.

In court filings, the tribe contended that an 1868 treaty promised both land and water sufficient for the Navajos to return to a permanent home in their ancestral territory. But they lost, in a 5 to 4 decision in which Judge Neal Gorsuch wrote the principal dissent and Judge Kavanaugh wrote for the majority.

Kavanaugh wrote that the case was not whether the United States has interfered with water access for the tribe, but whether a treaty required the US to take concrete steps — such as potentially building pumps, wells or other water infrastructure to facilitate better access.

“In short, the 1868 treaty did not impose a duty on the United States to take affirmative steps to secure water for the Tribe – including the steps requested by the Navajos here, such as determining the water needs of the Tribe, providing an accounting, or developing a plan to secure the needed water,” Kavanaugh wrote.

The judgement is worth reading. 

The Navajos were forced onto the reservation in 1868. But in the view of Judge Kavanaugh, we gave them land but we did not necessarily grant them the water rights they need to survive. 

This is a horrid and cynical view but almost to expected at this point in time, from this particular court.

One would think that if you dispossess a people and force them to live in the most desolate and difficult of locales that they would at least have all the bare necessities of life granted to them, like access to ample water so that they could survive.

But one would be wrong. It is all in how you parse the fine print. By a five to four decision, the Indians get shtupped once again. 

Here is part of the text of the ruling:

To be sure, this Court’s precedents have stated that the UnitedStates maintains a general trust relationship with Indian tribes, including the Navajos. Jicarilla, 564 U. S., at 176. But unless Congress  has created a conventional trust relationship with a tribe as to a particular trust asset, this Court will not “apply common-law trust principles” to infer duties not found in the text of a treaty, statute, or regulation. Id., at 178. Here, nothing in the 1868 treaty establishes a conventional trust relationship with respect to water. And it is unsurprising that a treaty enacted in 1868 did not provide for all of the Navajos’ current water needs 155 years later. Under the Constitution,Congress and the President have the responsibility to update federal law as they see fit in light of the competing contemporary needs for water.

(b) Other arguments offered by the Navajo Tribe to support its
claims under the 1868 treaty are unpersuasive. First, that the 1868
treaty established the Navajo Reservation as a “permanent home” does
not mean that the United States agreed to take affirmative steps to
secure water for the Tribe. Second, the treaty’s express requirement
that the United States supply seeds and agricultural implements for a 
3-year period to the Tribe does not, as the Tribe contends, mean that
the United States has an additional duty to take affirmative steps to
secure water, but rather demonstrates that the United States and the
Navajos knew how to impose specific affirmative duties on the United
States under the treaty. Third, the Tribe asserts that the United
States’s purported control over the reserved water rights supports the
view that the United States owes trust duties to the Navajos. But the
“Federal Government’s liability” on a breach-of-trust claim “cannot be
premised on control alone.” United States v. Navajo Nation, 556 U. S.
287, 301. Finally, the text of the treaty and records of treaty negotiations do not support the claim that in 1868 the Navajos would have
understood the treaty to mean that the United States must take affirmative steps to secure water for the Tribe.
26 F. 4th 794, reversed. 

And so the poor natives get hosed. Is it any wonder why so many despise lawyers and judges? Once again we have failed in our sacred trust to the natives that we so royally screwed in this country. I guess they are on their own.

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“When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God. Leviticus 19-33-34

"And when you are a stranger in somebody else's land, treat him even better." God

Dos halcóns de mi valle.

 

People that live near Red Mountain and off Willow Glen Rd. are all familiar with the hawk that sits on the tall tree across from Tinker's Transient Headquarters. She sits on the tallest bough every morning and surveys her keep.

As I was driving in this morning to clean up the mess I made in my shop I noticed two birds together on the tree. I pulled off onto some anonymous neighbor's driveway and decided to grab a shot. 

It was so far away I had no idea what they were actually doing but had the 400mm on the seat and took this shot from great distance. 

Luckily I did not interfere with any romantic interlude.

I have been all around this land and have never seen a higher concentration of hawks than my own Santa Margarita River Valley and its environs. 

And it had to be this way since the beginning of time or the Spanish would not have named the mountain I live under Gavilan, which translates to small raptor in Spanish.

Happy Fourth of July!

 

© Robert Sommers 2023

Gurdjieff Ensemble at Karahunj

Hummingbird in Palo Verde

 

I had a very short list of things to accomplish today. Haven't been able to work in five days, wanted to ease into it.  I wanted to unpack three boxes of totes, photograph a piece of silver and send a picture of a wonderful Maidu Native American basket to a good client in San Francisco.

And then, if I had time I would process some photographs. Unfortunately I fell down the rabbit hole, looked at the photos first and lost the morning. Oh well...

After lunch I tried to contact my client Barry. He is a scientific researcher on cancer genetics. Sold him a maidu basket last spring. Wonderful guy, he was very pleased with what he bought and he was excellent to do business with.

I emailed his company and the email bounced back. Odd. I tried an alternate email, same result and went to his linked in page. Looked like he still worked for Exact Sciences, in fact he is their Medical Director. I called the phone number. Dead, no answer. 

I looked up the company web page. He was not listed. Looked for news about the company and their might have been a mass layoff, damn. Bummer. Did my client lose his job recently? Probably not in the mood to buy...

I googled his name and found a man's obituary in North Carolina with the same name. Died in Asheville in December. I thought it was an odd coincidence until I recognized his phone number. I guess I won't be selling him a basket. 69 years old.

Life is a fleeting and temporary proposition my friends, make it count.

*

postscript - tired and dizzy on my way to emptying only my second box, I stepped through a painting, broken glass everywhere, no gloves, no energy. I assessed the situation, quietly turned around, shut the light off, locked the door and officially pronounced myself done for the day.

July is for the birds

As I mentioned, I had a pretty intense reaction to the latest cancer treatment. 

It is prophylactic and will probably save my life somewhere down the line so I just need to deal with it. 

Three more treatments to go.

I stayed home the last three days, set the tripod up Sunday and shot hummingbirds the last two days, coming in for a cold shower every once in a while to escape the searing heat.

I shot 1576 shots all told, can't even sort through them all yet, let alone process. 

Got some decent shots but still not absolutely what I had hoped for.  

Couldn't quite nail it.

Never as good as you hope.  Funniest shot of the weekend I never actually snapped. 

Saw the California thrasher cleaning my garage gutters with his long bill from the bathroom window. 

They are very comical to me, love them.

The usual suspects at the feeder.

I have Costa's hummers and Allen's right now, maybe a couple Annas. 

And the Allen's are just so small, so fast, so nimble, so hard to shoot. 

You will get a shot if they want you to have a shot.

I will keep trying, with time and persistence all things are possible.

I did grab some other shots that were cool.

A mockingbird mobbing the red tailed hawk female on top of my redwood.

I got a shot of an acorn woodpecker flying off the old telephone pole that SDGE was nice enough to leave when they stuck the metal one up so they would have a place to hang.

A California Towhee awaiting its bath.

A male hooded oriole in the strelitzia.

And its mate on an old agave spike.

Or is this the mate? 

They don't let me get that personal.

That will have to do for now. 

Oh, wait one more, I saw one of the young red tailed hawk children on the way to work in the misty darkness this morning. Will keep processing and shooting but that is what I have today. Birds give me peace and hope.

A bunch from Mel, Ralph and others

Jazz Sabbath

Lester Flatt and The Nashville Grass

14 year old Marty Stuart

Getting better

I could wail and beat my breast. But I won't. This has been a tough two days. The second immunotherapy treatment kicked my ass and it should only get stronger and worse as my body absorbs the cumulative dose the next three weeks. 

This is powerful stuff and it reverberates throughout my body.

Nothing too serious, nausea, minor pain, constant urination, but this infusion has certainly been no walk in the park. It is intense but worth it.

The reality is that BCG has caused my stage 4 cancer to revert to a low level cancer on three occasions now in the last 38 years. I was a goner.

Honestly, it is a lifesaver and I probably wouldn't be here living with you on this planet without it.

You have to keep things in perspective. I got a call today from an estate liquidator. She needs to move a collection fast. I looked at the pictures and couldn't help wonder, how could a man sell an exquisite collection of fine glass, that took a lifetime to collect, in a week? what possessed him? It is highly unusual.

There was a long pause on the phone. The collector has cancer, no more than six months to live. His brother is picking him up next week and moving him back to Ohio to take care of him during his last days. 

I suspected as much, made an appointment to see him before my next treatment. Collectors don't sell off their lifelong treasures so easily unless there is a real good or bad reason like this. 

And it makes me doubly grateful that I have a path to better health. As discomforting as it is, my stage 4 is in remission and I just need to hit my body with this atomic bomb of immune stimulant from time to time and I should be okay. I was lucky enough to have a way out of my ill fated disease. Many are not so lucky or they waited too long for diagnosis and treatment.

Get regular mammograms and colonoscopies and pay attention to what is going on with your body. Maybe we all can stick around a little longer.

Thank you Albert Hoffman!