Apples, Dogs and Politics

While reading the New York Times at a local coffee shop this morning I discovered a noteworthy line in an article called Puff the Magic Preservative: Lasting Crunch, but Less Scent. The article reported on growers gassing apples to preserve them – not to put too fine a point here. The process retards ripening and also the production of the gases which give apples their wonderful aroma. The reporter noted "The cost to growers is about a penny for every pound of apples, and the treatment is most likely harmless to humans, according to pesticide experts." (my emphasis.) Sometimes this world seems to get weirder and weirder. I can only assume even the objective reporter couldn't refrain from a little editorializing.

Maybe a $1.80 toke of this stuff (cost for me at a penny a pound) would assure a better old age and lessen the amount of gas I pass.

Dogs

I took Lila walking this morning. During our last few walks by the river, Lila hung close when I let her run. So I gave a reward and freed her to explore some really interesting brushy tangles. Half way through the walk I lost her (or she lost me.) First, her absence annoyed me. Then I pondered of all sorts of punishments as scolding which I know are useless with dogs. You must scold a dog immediately for bad behavior or forget it.

By now I had starting walking the parameter of the local golf course. The course has the nice granite benches which at 31 degrees are terribly cold on the back side even with long underwear. I sat down to wait and jot a few notes.

I worried. No dogs had barked which meant Lila wasn't trying to get acquainted with other dogs tied out in yards. I hadn't heard a shot. Especially this time of year some hunters figure any dog in the woods is a bad dog. Silence. Maybe she found something dead and rotten and feasted on cuisine that would never receive honorable mention on the NPR's "Splendid Table". Or had she found some poisoned bait? People do that too. I hadn't heard a sound from the gaggle of Canada geese resting and pooping beside the pond to the east.  Lila loves to worry Canada geese and the Canada geese love to shout back at her. I should have seen Lila if she ran to the West.

So I went home. Lila would never miss a meal. If suppertime arrived and Lila did not, then I would worry – big time.

There she sat, as I approached the basement door waiting – worrying? I interpreted the look on her face as worry. What has happened to Ken? Where did he go?

Politics

I'm building by Gather Profile bit by bit over time. What do I want out of Gather? It seems like I should have something weightier than "I like to have people read what I write." While pondering, I realized a few days back, mainly women had responded to my articles and pictures. 'Do men Gather?' I wondered. Had I wandered into a ladies room here?

When I wrote an article on politics, I found the men. Now, where do I find less strident voices and better senses of humor? (senses of humor?, sense-of-humors? – where is your English teacher when you need her?) – nuts – more playful spirits?

(Or maybe it wasn't politics but the word 'sex' I used as a teaser in the first sentence …..) 

Ken