Waterway Scenery
Compared to the days and weeks before Christmas and New Year’s, the second day of the year was pretty serene around here. There isn’t enough news to fill barely a minute of a Garrison Keillor Lake Wobegon-style monologue. If you’ve never heard one of those rambles from the great storyteller, GK, look it up.
I wonder how long it will be until no one recognizes what I am talking about when I reference the old Prairie Home Companion radio show.
The highlight of my day yesterday was capturing a couple of photographs on a walk with Asher in the waterway along the southern border of our property.
When it rained last week, there was enough runoff to create some flow in the waterway, as evidenced by pools that froze over in low spots. The water beneath has since dried up, leaving a beautifully decorated layer of ice about the thickness of a skinny pane of glass.
I also paused to take a picture of a wonderfully constructed nest in a young oak tree we’ve been nurturing since discovering it.
The birds didn’t winterize this structure, but maybe they’ll return in a few months to put their summer home to good use.
That’s the extent of excitement around here yesterday. Oh, I suppose I could add the jovial visit from our “This Old Horse” rep, Johanne, who dropped off bags of grain for the herd and picked up a few bales of the hay that our mares don’t like. She has horses and mules that’ll eat it.
I spent time reading a Pierce County book about historical log houses and a bunch more newspaper editions from the 1870s. I haven’t come across any new details about my ancestors who lived here at the time in my recent reading, but every day, my impression of what life was like in this area back then becomes better informed.
As in, the sights I found in the waterway are likely very similar to what my great (and great-great) grandparents were seeing on walks in their days. Although, back then, they probably would have seen these things in November instead of January.
That’s yesterday’s news from the ranch, where the horses are strong, the meals are good, and Asher’s intelligence is about average.
.
.
Relative Something 
It’s interesting that you mention Garrison Keillor. When I was a little girl, I regularly listened to his show on NPR and was a devoted fan of both his radio work and his writing for many years. His storytelling was a staple in my childhood, and his unique voice had a comforting familiarity that stayed with me into adulthood. However, my admiration was severely tested when Amelia and I bought his latest book, Cheerfulness, last year. About a third of the way through, he made a deeply troubling comparison, likening transgender people to flower pots. That moment hit hard. Amelia Desertsong, my wife, is a transgender woman, and to see someone I once respected reduce the dignity of people like her to such a dismissive metaphor felt like a betrayal. That was, for me, the last straw.
Of course, there had already been growing discomfort on my part regarding his legacy. For years, there were allegations about inappropriate behavior toward women involved in his show, and in more recent times, his comments seemed to fetishize autism. While I can still acknowledge the artistry and craft behind his work, I find it nearly impossible to separate the creator from the creation. It’s a tough balancing act—to respect the art while grappling with the flaws of the artist—and in this case, I’ve chosen to set it all aside.
Thomas Slatin 🏳️🌈
January 3, 2025 at 8:19 am
Thomas, your perception is understandable and justified. I think I’m able to compartmentalize the character flaw from the way I felt listening to the sound of his voice and how magically he took me to the places he described and the activities of those imaginary people who resembled so many aspects of real folks. For me, it is more about what was happening in my mind while he recited his monologue and less about the man practicing his craft. The poor man has no one to blame but himself for sullying our opinion of him.
johnwhays
January 3, 2025 at 10:22 am