Some rivers you want to dry.
Like the river of Internet chatter – the sooner into the season that turns to dirt, the better.
I’m writing by the light of two candles in cut wine glasses with sand in the bottoms, holding the wax beacons firmly in place, while the torches flicker by the cool breeze of ajar windows and a poor moth meets his unglamorous end, as I suppose all moths do. Oops! There goes another.
Twice now I’ve been to Africa, and I can probably count all the mosquitoes encountered on one hand. I understand that in the rainy season they are like tiny hyenas that force you to run for cover. Now, I can’t even summon them if I try. I mean, really, two lit candles with a an open window and not even a buzzzz, just a few moths. But, then, that tells you something about the seasons. Life lives in abundance during the rains and then quite quickly dissipates. The rainy season lasts three to four months and even that, by the way, is intermittent. It’s not like it rains every day. During the height, it might rain three times a week. So, twice now I’ve missed the mosquitoes and twice now I’ve missed rains. Last time I left just before rains started, and this time I arrived just after they ended. I tell myself I want to see the rainy season, but my record is 0-2. I need to practice my swing.
Life goes on, however, below the surface. That’s where deep roots reach moisture in healthy soil, and that’s what this is all about, of course, carbon rich, water holding soil, kept that way by perennial grass that is properly grazed. That this is a mystery to people in the climate movement is a mystery to me, but then, the universe is full of surprises, and breakthroughs are a glorious thing.