Posts Tagged With: Bonfire


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Is there such a thing as City Mentality?  As in complete disregard for common sense? Probably not, but you can’t remove the stupid from some people. Yesterday, wind storm warnings on the radio, television and on-line for the Mother Lode, as predicted, began about 4:00 p.m. The winds came on with a vengeance and continued on through a power failure that lasted until 10:30. Winds continued on past midnight. The wooded five acres next to me was recently purchased by someone and they are in the process of preparing the property for building.

They speed on our one-way road with complete disregard to walkers or people on horseback.  They target practice at night. They run ATV’s on the property sending up clouds of dust so thick I couldn’t discern my neighbor’s driveway from my car. I’ve had to close windows against the drifting dust. I’ve never had a chance to speak to anyone. Other neighbors have called the police numerous times over the target practice. Last night, around 6 p.m. they started a gigantic twelve feet wide bonfire. It rained the previous day and it is legally a burn day. I don’t know about a burn night. All I know, is people from up the hill came down to see, worried about a forest fire. There is only one road out.  My renters are talking about moving. Their once quiet household has been repeatedly disturbed by imbecilic actions like starting a bonfire in the middle of gale force winds and constant shooting.

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I can only imagine what they think living in the country is like? They seem to think their five acres is a vacuum and doesn’t affect anyone else, nor do they seem to care. Now I understand why people live in communities with Homeowners Associations and rules to make sure one party doesn’t disregard the comfort and peace of another. Okay, I’ve had my personal rant. I will write a polite letter today, but I don’t have much hope for change given the issues of such inconsiderate disregard for others. Jim always says, one good thing about living in a motor home, when you don’t like your neighbors, you can easily move.

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Yesterday, I found a beautiful condo complex, buildings surrounding a lovely lake with an island in the center. The day was beautiful, the lake with trout and koi swimming about, gorgeous pond lilies in bloom, the requisite ducks, and frogs; the price was right, but the town was not. Everett is an industrial kind of town with a strong rental market and downtown re-gentrification for anyone interested in this area. In the end, the crush of traffic between Everett and Seattle, and a few wrinkles with the unit as a rental,  changed my mind, temporarily, anyway.  If you are job hunting, this is the place to come.

We moved about 30 miles south to Monroe and spent the night at an Eagles Park. Jim and I sometimes look out our dining room window and comment how nice it is to enjoy a different view from place to place. Of course, not always this pretty. Looking out on a beautiful green meadow, a river rushes by, a flower garden, horse shoe pits, swings for the kids and a huge bonfire sized fire-pit.  It’s only open to Eagles member.

This “bouquet” surrounds the flag pole.

The river is clean and clear, with a gravel and sand bed;  a wading river. If the day had been hot, I’d have had my toes in it immediately. I’m thoroughly enjoying Washington State, despite the cold weather and rain.



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All of us would undo the damage past generations have done to the environment if we could. Greg Guirard, teacher, writer, speaker, fisherman, woodsman, historian, activist skips the “if” and is doing something about it, one tree at a time. That is, 40,000 of them in his own sphere of control. He planted them himself, over a 30 year span, converting cane fields to trees.

He was working on this crawfish trap when we drove up to his house. Its made from plastic coated chicken wire. “Not good this year,” he said. He is working with the Atchafalaya BASINKEEPER, an organization dedicated to saving the River Of Trees, and saving a way of swamp life for man, fish and birds. They have a website:

While  building a new house out of  reclaimed cypress wood, he remembered seeing some old discarded cypress full of holes from a fungus. Replaned, it made a beauiful cover for this wall. His cupboards, walls, ceilings and some furniture are made of cypress. Only the floors are oak.

Next to an art piece of cypress framing stained glass, stands a broom, unsupported by the wall. It stands by itself. Greg is hoping to reach a record time. This one has been maintaining its upright balance in the corner for five months now. (Its a natural phenomena in various places in nature.)
Cypress forests were completely logged off years ago. Luckily, cypress deteriorates slowly. During logging operations, some logs sunk into the muddy waters. When the water gets low, woodworkers remove the “sinkers”, replane them and find new uses for this beautiful wood. A form of recycling and preservation.
Greg not only preserves wood, he has preserved the stories of old time Cajun Fishermen and women in his books, Cajun Families of the Atchafalaya.   Psycho Therapy For Cajuns ,  a humorous take on Cajun Culture surviving in a crazy world. He wrote the fiction story, taken from real life, much of it his own, The Land of Dead Giants. His newest book, in conjunction with C.Ray Brassieur is a broader look at the past and future of the Atchafalaya Basin, and the folklife of the people who lived there, entitled Inherit The Atchafalaya. It provides a unique view, of a way of living,  fading into obscurity and which few could write about with the insight and clarity as the Cajun, Greg Guirard.
Meet Wilmer Blanchard who typifies Cajun fishermen: “I have eleven children, three boys. I would take my boys in the woods as soon as they could walk enough…”
Women fished to, and when Yolande Bonin had a stroke, her husband, Cezaire, carried her into the boat each day. Her contribution to fishing was limited to opening the right can as she saw a gar, a catfish, or whatever come out of the net. Cezaire says, “When I raise them nets, you ought to see her smile when they got fish in ’em.”
Myrtle Bigler claimed, “All kind of work gets me tired. But I’m not sick…” This when she was in her eighties. She and her husband, Harold,  lived off the swamp all their married lives. He died at age 90, and she died at 95. The lessons of simplicity are there for all of us to learn from, as are Greg’s books.
To contact Greg Guirard: or phone him at 337-394-4631. ATT is supposed to fix his website which is not currently working at

A sure sign of a real Cajun is this outboard motor hanging from an oak tree in Greg’s driveway. He gave a slide show for Elder Hostel and his photographs of the basin and people are superb and available on cards.

We spent the rest of the day with Michele, our erstwhile “guide.”  She took us to see the legendary wedding bower of the pre-Civil War sugar plantation Durand. Durand imported spiders into a young planting of pine, magnolia and oak trees lining his quarter mile driveway. The day of  his daughter’s wedding, the spider webs were sprinkled with the glitter of gold and silver dust. The bower is now know as Pine Alley and is all that remains of the once successful plantation.

Evening closed with friends and family “hanging out” around the bonfire and eating Michele’s great jambalaya washed down with good beer. Life is good.

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