Spring!

And we're getting beds--camas--ready for planting. Soon, we're going to plant hundreds of sunflowers--girasols--for biodiesel.

As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean

Not to
Not to
Not to murder a bird.

That photo is of Ken, "Don Ken", whose boat brings people (including me) and supplies over into this corner of the world.

There's a radio in the kitchen here, and it brings a funny mix of gossip, business, and noise. You can hear people looking for the border police, in order to enter Chile from Argentina, you can hear neighbors talking to each other, and sometimes somebody plays a little snippet of music. The border police whistle in code.

buy me some candy

girasol madrugada arco iris vela manzana viento
lombrisa alamo regadera invernaderno bosque
raiz hoja madera fresa frambuesa semilla suelo
arcilla drenaje planta cama huerta

Silence is the only Voice of our God.

"I wanted to speak to Saint-Loup, but he was so full of his indignation with the dancer that it clung to the very surface of his eyeballs; like a subcutaneous integument it distended his cheeks, so that his inner agitation expressing itself externally in total immobility, he had not even the elasticity, the 'play' necessary to take in a word from me and answer it."
--The Guermantes Way

There are three people with whom I spend my days and they are Brazilian. They speak Spanish some and English less. So, I am learning a strange Spanish and learning how not to understand the people around me.




Spanish:
rojo
verde
azul
amarillo

Portuguese:
vermelho
verde
azul
amarelo

Lago Inferior

Salta salta salta

I saw the famous Ricky Maravilla sing with La Bomba de Tiempo in Buenos Aires and then I met the daughter of the writer of the famous song, "Salta salta salta pequeña langosta."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3kZb5a93C8

But the water got so cold

And you do lose what you don't hold.

Buscado

El Bolson

Lago Puelo

Lago Puelo

The place where I am is all lake and stone peaks. It's an hour boat ride outside of El Bolson, the nearest town, on a little motor boat through two lakes that are connected by rapids that have killed, they say, more than fifty people. I'm invincible! For now.

If you're looking to feel at home in Argentina, El Bolson is the right kind of nest. It's small and scruffy and a sort of Humboldt County or Boulder with a lot of dirty, soccer playing kids and rusty bicycles.

The person who runs this farm wants to build a little paradise.

Hey, little bird, thank you for not

letting go of me when I let go of you.




Bus bus bus. I'm a pair of eyes.

There are so many wanderers in the world. And so many people with ideas.