Watsonville, May I Have a Word With You?

Image by Mulsanne via Flickr

**FYI, if this already seems a bit outdated it's because I wrote this a few days ago, when the Santa Cruz fire was barely contained and reeking havoc on everyone...mostly me.


I'm really trying not to come off looking like a whiny bellyacher here, but may I just share something? It doesn't take much to make me happy. For example, I would be happy to live the duration of my life on a strict diet of tacos and margaritas. And I usually don't hold grudges, even with people who drive with sheer stupidity, because ordinarily I just like to give them the benefit of the doubt. You know, like.....Wow. That crazy mean lady driving like a bat out of hell must just be in labor and needs to get to a hospital ASAP, or something. I'd like to think I try to see the good and the upside to almost everything.

Buuuuuut...

Today, I am not happy. This whole Santa Cruz fire fiasco which is responsible for ridiculous volumes of smoke, ash, haze, and bizarre day-time-darkness is beginning to take its toll on my body. I'm serious. I've never had such a strong and violent urge to scratch my eyes out and my poor little throat is so raw, it feels like I accidentally doused my coffee with a little bleach this morning instead of my daily dose of half-and-half. And every time my kids sneeze or their respiratory systems show even the slightest sign of irritation or fatigue, I feel compelled to profusely apologize for not providing clean air for their tee tiny lungs. Mama's sorry, kiddos. I can't fix this little pickle that we're in. BUT I CAN BLOG AND COMPLAIN ABOUT IT!

Speaking of complaints, not that I want to keep them coming or anything, but since we're already here......

So there's this little farm behind our backyard. As in, on the other side of our backyard fence, there are acres of crops growing. Which is awesome, because our view is gorgeous and we are surrounded by beautiful trees and greenery and peacefulness instead of houses and neighbors. However....with farming comes...manure. Naturally. And I'm not really sure how this all came to be, but on the one day, THE ONE DAY when the smoke and humidity and poor air quality came to a dreadful climactic peak, our neighbor, (we'll just call him Farmer Bob) decided that THIS would be the perfect day to spread yards of manure. All over his farm. Piles and piles of steamy, foul, repugnant potent manure, mixed in and pounded into the soil with his big noisy tractor. The same farm that BACKS RIGHT UP TO OUR YARD. I think you know where this is going. Muggy day + lots of fire smoke + fire ash + heat + a ton of manure = torture. And frankly, I'm a bit irritable. And I can't even utilize my clothesline because I'm afraid all that smoke ash and manure stench will permeate our clothes. And then people will point and stare at us when we walk by, and we'll become The Stinky Family.

Anyway, I know Farmer Bob is not alone here. I know my little town well enough to know that we are surrounded by farms, and I know they've all got deadlines to follow and crops to fertilize and produce to sell and a profit to make. But, here's a humble little piece of advice. ARE YOU LISTENING, FARMER BOB? Maybe next time there's a fire in our county, you could all consider throwing down the massive piles of cow dung AFTER the flames have settled down? Call me crazy, but I think your crops would be more receptive to ulterior methods of fertilization, too. Sooooo, maybe? Please? My family, my nose & my sanity would SO appreciate it. Thanks.

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