While gathering yesterday to brand this morning, another oak tree at 2,400 feet snags a mylar balloon from some Valley celebration. Offensive, blasphemous, the Sierra foothills are littered with them. There ought to be a law, but then again, our landscape is littered with too many of those as well. Miles from the asphalt, they decompose eventually, it just takes time. Happy 2014!
drycrikjournal 
How bizarre and quite true; what a blot on the landscape I’ll bet 😦
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Yep. Every one I see is good for a profane rant. We used to see the old helium balloons brought in on an easterly air flow to tangle in branches, but now we have even shinier reminders of thoughtless people. What can I say other than ‘thanks for checkin’-in, Spike’.
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A few weeks ago, when we plucked one of these from the hillside we imagined we’d removed the hidden source… the bur festering in the landscapes hide…
Little by little we reclaim our balance, and become more intimate with our healing might…a more flexible and pleasurable force… Luminated with a bit more sight…
(While writing this, Will Oldham sings,
“Weather is not judgement and money is not love…”)
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Sad is that this may not be the end of the story. How will the future read for those balloons? Will the ribbons attached be the end of a turkey that went to roost? A redtail that lands to snack on a mouse? Perhaps a coopers hawk dodging through the branches in pursuit of a small bird? If a victim falls to the ground what ground dweller might become ensnared? What future generations may abruptly not come to be? A blood line ended.
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Thanks, Richard, but if this photograph slows the sale of just a few mylar balloons, if folks look for a more sensible alternative, we’re making progress. Most people think they’re setting something free, watch it disappear without a thought of where it ends up.
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