Western
Oregon has been enjoying our
most amazing of falls: cool sunny days, cold nights, and slow motion wardrobe
changes by trees and bushes. Our summer stressed lawns perk up, preparing to remain
green all winter. We are running short on rainfall this season, with a dry warm winter predicted. These have become more common. As a full blown Oregonian
(born and deep soaked here) I love our wet winters. For me, water is life. I
could happily return to earth as an Oregon
coast bog plant. Be assured I am aware that life requires insolation (sun
beating down on my head) but I relax in and feel cared for by cool dampness.
I spent about 6 years on
the front range of the Rockies in Colorado.
There the best of seasons (spring and autumn) were fleeting, while the cold and
hot extremes were interminable. But most missed (perhaps only by me) was the
comforting sound of tires swishing on rainy pavement. On the few occasions when
this occurred I was gripped by a physical pang of yearning.
I submit this
contradiction in my choices: while preferring to live in the most clement of
locations (according to my preferences), I am irresistibly drawn to Earth’s
least clement location: Antarctica. I have
been twice to this otherworldly continent, once approaching from the tip of
South America in an ice strengthened ship, and then from Tasmania on an ice breaker. The first
expedition included South Georgia Island and the Falklands, and visited the archipelago
of Antarctica which arcs toward Terra del
Fuego. This trip afforded amazing icebergs and encounters with seven penguin
species. The ice breaker was needed to
approach the Ross
Sea to encounter
Emperors. This took us through ice pack, near
glaciers and ice sheets.
I cannot possible
articulate the wonder of this place. But I can explain my fascination with life
in the coldest, driest, windiest place on earth: What was evolution up to? As a
possible location to set up house, this continent seems to lack basic survivability.
But nature is quirky that way. There is
bacteria that lives on methane and sulfur in scalding water vented at the
bottom of the ocean. So in comparison, huddling with a crowd of fellow Emperors
in the long dark winter at the bottom of the world waiting for your mate to
return from a long journey to get fat, so that you can take your turn seems fairly
doable.
Not for me mind you. I’m a
complete comfort junkie.
Western
Oregon has been enjoying our
most amazing of falls: cool sunny days, cold nights, and slow motion wardrobe
changes by trees and bushes. Our summer stressed lawns perk up, preparing to remain
green all winter. We are running short on rainfall this season, with a dry warm winter predicted. These have become more common. As a full blown Oregonian
(born and deep soaked here) I love our wet winters. For me, water is life. I
could happily return to earth as an Oregon
coast bog plant. Be assured I am aware that life requires insolation (sun
beating down on my head) but I relax in and feel cared for by cool dampness.
I submit this
contradiction in my choices: while preferring to live in the most clement of
locations (according to my preferences), I am irresistibly drawn to Earth’s
least clement location: Antarctica. I have
been twice to this otherworldly continent, once approaching from the tip of
South America in an ice strengthened ship, and then from Tasmania on an ice breaker. The first
expedition included South Georgia Island and the Falklands, and visited the archipelago
of Antarctica which arcs toward Terra del
Fuego. This trip afforded amazing icebergs and encounters with seven penguin
species. The ice breaker was needed to
approach the Ross
Sea to encounter
Emperors. This took us through ice pack, near
glaciers and ice sheets.
