Everyday In the Vines

Ca arrive.
Aujourd'hui c'etait le tour de la femme du vigneron.
11:55 CET.
Moi, je passait le après-midi dans le vigne seule.

:::::

It happens.
Today it was the vignerons wifes turn.
11:55 am CET.
I spent the afternoon in the vigne alone.

Round and Round We Go

It’s time for the taille.

I’m in the vines again snipping and stripping at migrant wages. Like the taxi, which I’ve left behind for nostalgia to consume, the vines have the endless, repetitive, back and forth that draws me in. I am drawn to constant motion that goes nowhere. It allows me look around, inside and out.

It can get scary, like boots caked with icy mud. Cold wind all day long making you beg for the end of the shift. Or it can get beautiful, like a thin sliver of moon starting to shine in a newly night blue sky as the workday ends. Often it’s a mix of the two and I’m free to choose which side I glance towards. That’s when the choice of regard becomes critical.

The souche and my thoughts.
There’s a digression that goes on. A weaning away of the wasted distractions that suck energy for wild and unproductive growth. That’s what we are doing in the vines, getting the growth into the position that leads to a healthy, productive direction.

What can I say, it’s taille time again. It’s all I do. Wake, work, sleep. And perhaps something in between that is saturated with the thought of waking, working and when I can get to sleep.

But I digress, I wanted to tell you what I saw the other morning. It’s one of those moments that doesn’t lead in a productive direction because it already is in itself perfect. It needs nothing. It leads nowhere. It just is. It is direct, without distraction.

I am doing the taille. Cutting the vines back. The vines are carried on 3 horizontal lines of metal wire that are strung along the 100 yard rows on 10 metal poles. We cut the growth back to the vine stump which runs along the lowest wire.

It is December 7th. 8:30 am. Latitude 43.6291. 1° centigrade. In other words, it is cold and the sun is just rising. I am standing in the mud and the myth of southern france. I am starting my day of work. It will end when this same sun sets at 5:15 pm. But that is the end and this is just the beginning.

At this moment (that moment now), all along the now empty wires of the rows we have cut yesterday are drops of water. Each in perfect suspension and lined up one against the other along the wires. Frozen solid in their ‘drop’ form, they are back lit by the just rising sun and are gleaming. Thousands of drops of frozen water lined up like gleaming jewels row upon row just to the horizon.

For a moment I think of nothing else. Stunned by the perfection of the cold muddy world I am in.

Recipe.

For a perfect day of autumn.

sleep.
wake.
quiet.
wave.
hug.
cry.
coffee.
smoke.
talk.
Wash the last traces of blood from the carpet which lied at the foot of the stairs. Your sisters final resting place. Or starting line.
food.
drink.

Family washing in on flowing waves of sadness.

Love.
Loss of losing
Love.

A perfect crescent moon falling.
behind the hill.

Chicago Time.

Subject: what else
Date: October 5, 2010 21:53:46 CEST
To: you
Confirmation # : AF7681 - Voyageur

Another last favor. i am coming into town (hence 'what else') in november.
i want to stay with you for a week.

Be in town, but moving around. one fashion or another.
clearly becoming imperative.
need shaking up. 50 years.

if the gig is dying, crazy to still be trying.
but gotta keep it moving.
couldn't not come, how can i let it stop.
soon we could be dead. perhaps there are other ways to keep it happening.
that's what i want to see.
i'll get the pictures, bring the projects
i am coming incognito - my papers will say 'cabdriver' - though i am coming simply as another bon homme.
i'd love to land with you.
jeff
nancy
joe
sheila
christine
magda
lora lu
sergio
chuck
alma
gma

maybe more...

time is shrinking.
i need you condensed.

nov 4-dec 7.

more...

love.

Hey look up!

As if the endless land-based cameras weren't enough... a 'breaking' story in todays news.

" An MQ-9 Predator B, [a.k.a. Reaper] an Unmaned Aircraft System, at a ceremony to celebrate the authorization from the FAA to use the aircraft to patrol the Texas-Mexico land border, Wednesday, Sept. 8, 2010, in Corpus Christi, Texas."

It seems to be news of a breaking nature, at least if you look at the date.

Missing from the headlines, or even the story -

The United States Homeland Security initially ordered one Reaper for border patrol duty, (referred to as MQ-9 CBP-101). It began operations 4 October 2005, but on 25 April 2006, this aircraft crashed in the Arizona desert.

A second Reaper, called "CBP-104", was delivered in September 2006, and commenced limited border protection operations on 18 October 2006.

There is no mention either of Project CHLOE - a research and development program of the Department of Homeland Security which (according to the DHS) has three objectives.

The third objective is to integrate unmanned planes into the air traffic control system and other law enforcement agencies for overall situational awareness. Security at any price you say?

price per plane: 10.5 million with sensors... or... four aircraft, four ground stations and five years of maintenance support, all valued at US$330 million.

But don't worry about spending your money just for someone to watch over others from above, there is sure to be one COMING SOON TO YOUR TOWN!

COMING SOON TO YOUR TOWN!

Patience (with a big stick) is a (profitable) Virtue.

The Exxon Valdez oil spill occurred in Prince William Sound, Alaska, on March 24, 1989. It is considered to be one of the most devastating human-caused environmental disasters ever to occur in history.












AFTER more than 20 years EXXON (now Exxon/Mobil) is still working the EXXON VALDEZ oil spill in Alaska. Not on the beaches (that's work for old mother nature) but in the Courtrooms - where the real profits are made.

In the [Exxon Valdez oil spill] case of Baker v. Exxon, an Anchorage jury awarded $287 million for actual damages and $5 billion for punitive damages. The punitive damages amount was equal to a single year's profit by Exxon at that time.

(Big headlines everywhere announced/cheered the decision against greedy big oil)

Exxon appealed the ruling, and the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ordered the original judge, Russel Holland, to reduce the punitive damages.
On December 6, 2002, the judge announced that he had reduced the damages to $4 billion.

(well that's still a lot of money)

Exxon appealed again
Judge Holland increased the punitive damages to $4.5 billion, plus interest.

(see justice works, it's fair)

After more appeals, and oral arguments heard by the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals on January 27, 2006, the damages award was cut to $2.5 billion on December 22, 2006.

(now justice is really working)

Exxon appealed again.
On May 23, 2007, the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals denied Exxon/Mobil's request for a third hearing and let stand its ruling that Exxon owes $2.5 billion in punitive damages.

(justice knows when it's got it right)

Exxon then appealed to the Supreme Court,
On February 27, 2008, the Supreme Court heard oral arguments for 90 minutes.
The Supreme Court vacated the $2.5 billion award remanding the case back to a lower court,

Exxon's actions were deemed "worse than negligent but less than malicious." The judgment limits punitive damages to the compensatory damages, which for this case were calculated as $507.5 million.

(Big justice takes time, and patience)

Exxon's official position is that punitive damages greater than $25 million are not justified because the spill resulted from an accident, and because Exxon spent an estimated $2 billion cleaning up the spill and a further $1 billion to settle related civil and criminal charges.


for a bit more of the devil in the (unheralded) details: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exxon_Valdez_oil_spill

Should I stay or Should I go. Now

Hank was on the edge and he saw nowhere to go. Just at his back, the grey clouds were hanging right on top of the mountain, on the other side of the hallow. One little change in pressure and they would be right over him. Already, standing in full hot sunshine, the wind would gust and bring rain. It came in fine, almost imperceptible mists. It brought back memories of a summer terrace in a five star hotel where he had never been.

Which way to go. There were endless rows that needed tending. He went along the rows, bent down and tore away the ‘gourmands’ that sucked the plants force and returned nothing but fatigue. Each souche seem to thank him but always there was the next demanding. His body was breaking. His back was tanned.

Hank was on the edge and he saw nowhere to go. He stood up, the water that had gathered with the sweat rolled down his back. He felt the mist blow in and it cooled his face and chest. He had nothing but the back of his hand to wipe his face. He wondered where Veronica was now.
He looked up and saw an arch in the sky. It was banded in intense color. It was an intimate little thing stretching from the side of one hill to the next. Hank could see the rainbow touching ground in a the woods on the far side of the colline. The trees were illuminated in bright colors. Encasing this spectacle was another, much grander, far reaching, and vaguer hued, rainbow that was must have been evident at great distances.

Hank felt the edge, and suddenly decided to stop looking for somewhere to go. It dawned on him that it would be best to just stay where he was. He took one more look at the trees that the rainbow had dressed in psychedelic color, took a deep breathe and bent back down into the rows.