A Warrior for the Chaos of the Wild • Rags Edward

àite còmhnaidh (Dwelling Place)

I am from paper, ink, words, images and spidery handwriting, from Canon, Nideggen, burnt sienna and red ochre, coptic and codex. I am from lands of green, with dark, worked soil, from the adoration of constellations and the heavy scent of woodsmoke in the autumn air.

I am from the eagle tree and coyote fire-song, hay meadows full of wild roses and rooms pressed into the grasses, from a hiding place in the dark thicket of laurel branches, and the cool pocket by the lake.

I am from deer and dog, coyote and wolf, knight and Indian, books and stories. I am from home baked bread, handmade ice cream, banks strewn with Virginia Bluebells and restful sensitive spirits, from hateful battles full of terror and fright, from the ancient stillness of Simon, Mable, Alice and Fanny and the agonies of Jeanne and Ken. I am from homespun cloth of linen and the simplicity of field and pasture, from the bogey man in the basement who will stand you on your head, deep dreams of bears in dens and the legends of Jesus and King Arthur.

I am from worship of the earth and the hypocrisy of tongues - the comfort of the trees and the punishment of the Rock of Ages, from early devotion to Artemis, Diana, Luna. I’m from Lancaster and York, the lands of Merlin, from Donegal and the cities of red and white roses, from garden snapped peas, blackberries with beetles bitten in half, summer-cut roses and strawberry shortcake.

From the wicked aunt who stole identities and thieved the past and three gentle women who cradled my spirit as I grew, from long country walks on Sunday and the green walled cemeteries of Donegal. I am from paper, ink, words, images and the lovely hand of graceful fate.

From Rags: This is a poetry exercise that I wrote with guidance from a poem by George Ella Lyon called "Where I'm From." The exercise is great fun, and well worth a try! I’d love to see your results if you try it! Details for how to do it can be found here at Fred First's website.

Rags Edward:
hand bookbinder.
poet.
aspiring banjo player.
painter.
photographer.
warrior/advocate
for the chaos of
the wild!

The United States Postal Service Squares off with a Squirrel, and Loses Hard.

BY BRETT RAWSON

On January 20th, a mailman tried to deliver a piece of mail to an ordinary home. It was the XFINITY envelope you see above. Urgent, we can only imagine. But when the mailman reached the property, he approached a problem: the house was guarded by squirrels. How many, we'll never know, but there were enough. That much is clear. The mailman left the premises promptly, likely by sprint, and much later, he penned the reason for, and date of, undelivery: Squirrels, 1/20. Days later, the mailman returned, the squirrels were gone, and the bill was delivered.

The story could end there, but thankfully, it doesn't. The envelope was addressed to Glenn Tachiyama, an (ultra marathon) trail runner and (adventure) photographer. Glenn's images combine these passions with symmetry, capturing bodies in motion. But he also takes tons of pictures of squirrels.

It's a hobby of his: snapping photos of these shadow-seeking, nut-lovers. We've liked every single one we've seen on Instagram: those little concrete-colored cuties frolicking through meadows, the quasi-confused fuzzy rats nibbling on round shards of asphalt, and the small puff-balls plumping up before winter. You could be thinking that all of this was just some freak accident: that a mailman who just happened to be afraid of small furry things arrived to a residence with more than a normal amount of them. But plot-twist: January 21st just so happened to be Squirrel Appreciation Day. So now, like The Usual Suspects, your mind is going back through the clues.

It was all there: the day the mail was delivered, hundreds of squirrels darting around the lawn, unable to contain their appreciation for each other, gathered together for the annual celebration around none other than the home of Glenn Tachiyama, famous photographer and lover, or should we say leader, of squirrels. Is it that far-fetched to wonder whether the squirrels were just prepping for the photo-shoot of their lifetime? 

Obviously, we here at Handwritten lost our marbles. We reached out to Glenn. "Glenn, that squirrel picture is hilarious," we wrote. "What if," we said cutting to the chase, "you sent us 4 - 5 of your fave squirrel images, and we put that in the context of this story?" Glenn replied. "As long as I don't have to write much," he wrote. "Not at all," we responded, "it'll be a visual story."

And so, with permission to use Glenn's images, but without his permission to tell a completely fictional tale, we present to you, on this pseudo-gloomy Monday, the untrue story of the mailman and the squirrel, handwritten by us, of course.

THE HANGRY SQUIRREL
handwritten by Handwritten
illustrations by Glenn Tachiyama 

Ch 1: The Snapped Twig Heard Around the World

A lanky, pale man wearing tube socks steps onto a twig, snapping it in half, which would otherwise be no big deal, except, off in the distance, a hangry squirrel spins in his direction. The hangry squirrel acquires visual of the yummy-looking xfinity envelope the mailman is holding onto. "I must have that envelope," the squirrel says, "and his calf."

Ch. 2: Some Call is a Coincidence, Others Call it a Calling

An amazing photographer just happened to be lying on his tummy in the grass, camera in hand, when all of this occurred. And, one snap later, he catches a shot of the hangry squirrel on its hind legs, as it readies to launch toward its lunch. "Target acquired," the hangry squirrel thinks.

Ch 3: The Pursuit of Hangriness

From the point of view of the mailman's calf, which wished it could speak and tell the rest of his body, or brain, that a squirrel was yards away from his skin. If the calf could talk, it would also ask the mailman to stop wearing tube socks. But now is no times for "I wishes," and the calf watches as the furry face of fear gallops over fallen leaves...

Ch 4: Plan B: An Aerial Attack

The hangry squirrel notices it has been spotted by the calf, and even though that doesn't matter, the hangry squirrel, mid-sprint, switches from the grass route to an aerial attack. Hanging by the feet just above the mailman, and next to a caged moldy sponge, the hangry squirrel puts his paws silently together, and thanks the Master of Nuts for bringing him such a rare treat. The hangry squirrel, in dangling yoga pose, realized he hasn't had mailman for over a decade.

Ch 5: Everyone Wins

But just as the hangry squirrel was about to drop himself on the balding head of the mailman, a gust of wind told the mailman to duck immediately! Instead, he looked up, saw the hangry squirrels inches above the bridge of his nose, screams, which scares everyone, drops a bag of cheetos, and runs away, xfinity bill in hand. The hangry squirrel uses a nearby vine to lower himself to the ground, and throws the cheetos in the air...

Ch 5 (con't): Everyone Wins

...like confetti. 

THE END

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