Global Warming Isn't Real

I've deer hunted in a mid-Missouri location nearly every year since 1980 - almost thirty years. The season always falls within the second and third week of November. My hunting stand is on the same plot of land year after year. So I've built up a lot of climate observation at a specific locale and time of year. Here's what I've seen on opening day of the season over the years:

-from 1980 thru 1986, mornings were cold. There was always hard frost on the winter wheat and on the treebark. Precipitation was rare. I had to dress in thermals, sweats, and an insulated hunting suit. My feet froze even with large boots in an insulated bag. I wore two stocking caps and a hood.

-from the mid 80's thru 1991 it was almost as cold, but occasionally rainy.

-in 1991 the weather moderated. That year I swapped the hunting suit for fatigues and thermals, and laid in the warm 65f sun one day.

-throughout the 90's the mornings were consistently above 30f with a moderate frost on the winter wheat, and none on treebark.

-from 2000 or so to the present, mornings have been consistently above 45f with little to no frost, lots of erratic rainstorms and sunny days in the 70f-80f range. So far this year, opening morning at 6AM was 56f and clear, with a major thunderstorm front following the next day for four days.

I'll be talking with my relatives to get anecdotes from the 30's thru the 70's in that region. But from what I've heard from my departed grandparents, 20" snowfalls late in the fall were not unheard of.

...it's definitely getting warmer around here.

Volunteers of America

I've been watching things change lately... saw a nicely dressed gentleman dumping his household garbage at a service station yesterday. Went on a weekday hike to get away and was plagued with hordes of bored and unemployed once-middle-class folks. I saw a couple trying to figure out how to open a dumpster behind a grocery store (secured, of course, to keep vermin out and lazy countrymen from getting something for free, even if it's garbage).

Almost a year ago, these images were sparse. People were secretive about dumping or scrounging, and a little embarassed. But they've started to get brazen and vocal. I propose they (we) need a voice for now. That voice has been playing inside my head for days - Paul Kantner's "We Can Be Together." You remember the song, right? Can you imagine Middle America singing these lyrics? Many of us imagined it, exactly forty years ago.

We are all outlaws in the eyes of America.
In order to survive, we steal,
Cheat, lie, forge, fuck, hide and deal.
We are obscene, lawless, hideous, dangerous, dirty, violent… and [middle class].

So, what happens when the well-educated and highly disillusioned American middle-class wakes up from the sleep that begets monsters and realizes the true gravity of the situation? Lots of whining. Loss of self-worth. Bouts of self-pity. And then some anger. It's my sense that we're somewhere between the self-pity and anger stage, with anger starting to take hold. And it's about fucking time. Like the song says,

We should be together.
We should be together, my friends.
We can be together,
We will be.

Do it with anger. And do it with love. Choose your sides, target your enemies. Band together and "family-up."

Up against the wall, motherfucker! Scream it now! Feels damned good again, doesn't it?

http://www.archives.gov/research/american-revolution/pictures/index.html

Blowdown in Dark Hollow

Blowdown!
Throughout the Lower Rock Creek area there are 3' caliper and larger trees blown down by what locals considered a tornado. The damage appears to have taken place in the spring. But there is also evidence of another blowdown maybe a year before.

The place is a mess, and every ten feet down the trail actually takes 30 or more feet circling around, crawling through and climbing over an ocean of downed trees. The going uphill is even more challenging.

The trail into Lower Rock Creek canyon area is tolerable but inconvenient. The trail to Trekler Mountain is sheer madness. I counted over a hundred full-sized oak and pine trees fallen neatly across the old roadbed, spread out over two miles.

Google map