A Fable

If I produce another post about the weather, I'm sure that I will lose both of my readers, so let me tell a little story:

Then they said to one another, "Come, let us make bricks and bake them thoroughly." They had brick for stone, and they had asphalt for mortar. And they said, "Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower whose top is in the heavens; let us make a name for ourselves."

But the Lord came down to see the city and the tower which the sons of men had built. And the Lord said, "Indeed the people are one and they have one language, and this is what they begin to do; now nothing that they propose to do will be withheld from them. Come, let us go down there and drop another six inches of snow, that they may not understand." So, the Lord came with lows in the mid-20s and another winter storm at the end of April, and they ceased to build the city.

Grey Water

For the past couple of years we have done a little grey water harvesting. Mostly that means bath water, although shower, kitchen sink, and washing machine are all open to investigation. The process has involved scooping from a small bucket to a large bucket and then carrying the large bucket to the orchard or the garden. This has been very labor intensive. Well, for 2010, Rural Ways is automating the grey water harvest. First, a sump pump goes in the tub, next a hose runs out the door, and, finally, a 50 gallon rain barrel is employed. Plug in the pump, toss it into the bath tub, and, voila, grey water flows to the rain barrel. The spigot on the rain barrel can be used to fill watering cans or can be hooked directly to a hose out in the yard. Actually, the sump works so well that we could probably skip the rain barrel and just use it to water the orchard directly during the hotter summer months.

Short Growing Season

I was looking for leaves in the orchard yesterday; today I was looking at four inches of snow. When I got Ellen out of bed, she said that it looked like it was going to be a cold autumn, with winter on the way. My brother-in-law marks his seasons by counting "fire free" days—by which he means days on which he doesn't have to start the wood stove. When I talked to him last week he'd already recorded three or four "fire free" days on the east coast. I guess snowmaggedon is over out there. Not here, we've not been "fire free" since the end of September.

No Shooting in Town

I saw a No Shooting Within Town Limits sign the other day as I was driving into Paragonah, a small town in southern Utah. At first I thought that this was a sign that might belong in the category of things that don’t need a sign. I mean, do we need to tell the random visitor to keep his Uzi to himself? The next day, however, I noticed that the City of Parowan, where I live, had “Shooting Within the City Limits” on the City Council’s meeting agenda. Twice in one week seemed like more than a coincidence, so I began to wonder about it.

I first wondered about shooting deer. There would be something to that. In the early morning, with the .30-.30 on my lap as the herd came through to eat my garden? In many states, the local Department of Natural Resources offers “depredation tags” to farmers or ranchers. Why not gardeners? I live within the city limits, but that does not exempt me from depredation; should I be exempted from the DNR’s dispensation? And it is not just deer. I remember once using a garden shovel on a raccoon on the back porch. It had gotten into a friend’s box of peaches during the night and I sent it packing with a bad headache. I could have just as easily used the .22.

Next I wondered about the pet. We have a cat—a scaredy cat to be exact. Mostly the cat sleeps on the sofa, but every once in a while she likes to go out and sit in the yard. I have, on occasion, needed to help her fight off a feral cat that has spotted her out there. I have done that by shooting it. Granted, it is just the pellet gun for that. But it requires shooting within the city limits.

Finally, there is the family. And I’m not talking about crime. I live in a rural village in southern Utah and I’ve often joked that I could leave a bag of cash lying on my front yard and no one would touch it—unless they were picking it up to put it on my porch for me. But, everyone has a horror story about a dog bite. And loose dogs are not uncommon in rural areas. If one bit my daughter, I would be furious. I would be, in fact, in a shooting mood—and, in town, no less. So, I can see this being a good reason for shooting within the city limits.

In Parowan, actually, shooting vicious dogs may be legal. There is a city ordinance (Title 1, Chapter 5, Section 1-5-6(4)) that allows me to kill an attacking dog. Aside from that ordinance, however, there does seem to be a prohibition against the use of firearms (Title 16, Chapter 2, Section 16-2-1) although the language contains some ambiguity. If I am allowed to kill an attacking dog, but not allowed to discharge a firearm, how am I going to kill the dog?

The other day I noticed that there is to be No Shooting Within the City Limits of Paragonah. I also noticed a similar topic on Parowan’s City Council agenda. I wondered whether such a sign was really necessary, but I also wondered whether there might be good reasons for shooting within the city limits. Indeed, I might be tempted to shoot to protect my garden, my pet, or my kid. I am allowed to protect these things; if I can’t shoot, how am I going to do it?

April Fools

This year the joke is on all of us who thought the long, cold winter of 2009/2010 was winding down. Nope. Another eight inches and counting this morning, with the thermometer settled at 22F. We've been ordering seeds, pruning the orchard, and looking for buds on the elm trees. It looks like we've jumped the gun; winter ain't over yet. Actually, according to my notes, we started burning during the first week of October. October! It is now April and the stove is going full blast. This is month seven. I don't think I've ever had to burn for seven months before. Especially foolish are those who thought this would be a good time for an arts festival.