People Have to Live Somewhere

As near as I can tell from information I gathered on the internet, Montana leads all other states in nation in the number of acres under conservation easements.  At present, some 2,553,692 acres of Montana landscape are under such easements.  By comparison, Idaho has 293,860 acres under easement.  Alaska has 201,586 acres. Far away Maine holds 2,490,769 acres in easements.

In basic terms, these easements are voluntary legal agreements between landowners and either a government agency or a land trust that permanently limits land use and preserves the land for its conservation value.  Perhaps, more than anything, these easement provide tax incentives for landowners.   In Montana, most of the land has been protected from either becoming a part of own version of urban sprawl or to protect habitat for wildlife.

Montana started seeing substantial growth in both population and the number of land subdivisions for homes in the early 1990s.  In the first half of that decade, land trust agreements in the state also increased by over 60 percent.

Some Montanans resent this sort of thing.  Personally, I’m happy when a ranch somewhere near me is preserved as a ranch.  Ranches define Montana.  I’d rather drive past a ranch than a subdivision any day of the week.  And for those compelled to argue that “people have to live somewhere,” I can only rebut with, “yes, but they don’t have to live everywhere.”

-- Mitchell Hegman

Take This and Run

—If you want to be beautiful, then go ahead and be beautiful.   You are the only person capable of stopping yourself from being so.

—A trip to your kitchen faucet can quickly end the glass half-empty or glass half-full debate.

—Bad driving is still getting you somewhere.

-- Mitchell Hegman

Dreams Come True

A few weeks ago—I don’t know why—I dreamed I was girl-cleaning my house.  For those of you not in the know, girl-cleaning is when you really clean.  You lift stuff up and wipe underneath.

Boy-cleaning, contrarily, is when you wipe around stuff. 

Weirdly enough, a few days later, the dream came true and I found myself girl-cleaning my bathroom.

Not very long after that, I had a dream where I needed to fix something or other at the house.  For the life of me, I could not find a single tool.  Not so much as a screwdriver in my junk drawer.  Not a tool of any kind in my garage.  Where had they gone?  In the dream, I had to drive to town and buy all new tools.

So here it is.  Not long after that, my truck’s battery fell on its face and refused to get up and start the engine.  I had tools here, but they were not exactly what I needed.  When I went into town to pick up a battery, I also purchased a toolkit with a variety of wrenches and an extensive socket set.

After last night, I’m a little worried.

In my latest dream, I found myself driving a narrow street.  Parked cars lined both sides of the street.  Just as I was thinking I needed to watch for children running out from between parked cars, out popped Keith Richards directly in front of me.  He stood there, holding an electric guitar. 

Before I could even begin to wonder where the rest of the Rolling Stones were, I mowed down Keith Richards with my truck.

-- Mitchell Hegman

Gravity and Friction

I am a pretty big fan of gravity.  I appreciate how gravity holds me to the ground so I don’t float off hopelessly only to get smacked by the next passing airplane.  I have had a few minor incidents with gravity.  That time I fell face-first from my stingray bicycle comes to mind immediately.  And (I don’t know if I can hold gravity wholly responsible) there is also the song, “Gravity” by John Mayer, which greatly annoys me for some reason.  But, as a whole, gravity is pretty useful.  

So far as friction is concerned, I have mixed feelings.  Friction is pretty handy when striking a match to start a fire.  It’s great for skidding to a stop, too.  But I seem fighting against friction half the time.  Friction is always holding something back.

Yesterday, friction crossed a line with me.

After digging through the drawer of the antique hutch in my dining room to find an old cellphone charger, I tried to slide the door shut again.  The door didn’t wholly jam, but was pretty difficult to push due to the friction of wood on wood.  I opted to kneel down for better alignment and jiggle the drawer a little as I pushed on it.

Bad idea, that kneeling. 

Jiggling, too.

For a couple years now, gravity has been holding one of that girl’s large pottery pieces on top of the hutch.  My jiggling tipped it over.  Gravity took over entirely from there.

After you finish reading this, you can examine the photograph of the shattered pottery I posted below.  I have also included a photo of the entire hutch (taken after I cleaned up the mess) so you can establish some idea of scale.

As a point of fact, the pottery piece didn’t break upon landing on the hutch.  It shattered when it dropped directly onto my head.

Yep, that one hurt.

-- Mitchell Hegman

Something Ray Bradbury Said

—You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.

—It's not going to do any good to land on Mars if we're stupid.

—It's lack that gives us inspiration. It's not fullness.

Visions

Yesterday, on a trip into Helena, I saw two really weird things.

My first “vision” occurred as I pulled into the parking lot of a downtown building where I had a meeting with my financial advisor.

Wait a minute.  That’s interesting.  I have a financial advisor?

Yes!  Yes, I do!

Anyhow, as I pulled into the lot, a raven flew above my pickup clutching a fuzzy bunny rabbit nearly as big as the bird itself.

Did I really see that?

I think so.  But I was pretty busy not running into nearby Hondas, Subarus, and other Ford trucks. I captured but a fleeting glance.

After leaving my meeting, I crossed an overpass midway through town.  While crossing over the structure, I thought I saw an oddly shaped plane flying low above the valley in front of me.  Some kind of experimental craft, I thought.

I averted my eyes for a moment to avoid drifting into a van in another lane.  When I directed my eyes toward the sky again, I discovered that my experimental plane was actually a streetlight just standing there on the far end of the overpass.

Nice work, Mitch.

That was—as a plumber buddy of mine often suggested—“one of them optical conclusions.”

Did I mention that I have a financial advisor?

-- Mitchell Hegman

Tables and Chairs (the Big Dipper has been upended)

Overnight, the Big Dipper upended itself.  Early this morning, I found it balancing on its handle atop a pine tree outside my back door.

I’m not worried.

The Dipper will slip down from the tree and repeat.

Here is a real thing.  There exists a fine line between taking an aspirin to cure a headache and drilling a hole in your head to let the demons out.

Just to be safe, I hide my drills.  Sometimes, I have trouble finding them when I need a hole in a board.

I’ve always wondered about some of the more famous philosophers.  Friedrich Nietzsche, who said, “He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.  And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”   Kierkegaard, who is quoted as professing, “My depression is the most faithful mistress I have known.”

Philosophers have always danced along the thinnest edge.

I have learned not to drill holes in my head.  I use power tools to literally “work” my way through troubles.  I choose blueprints over long blue nights. 

I build a house.  A cabin.  Sometimes, a crooked table, which I immediately dismantle and burn so I might begin again.

Imagine if Kierkegaard took up a skill saw instead of existentialism.

Today, we might have Kierkegaard chairs instead of thoughtful abstractions.

-- Mitchell Hegman