LIKE MUSHROOMS in damp autumn woods, Bob Bowling's sheds are popping up all over South Whidbey Island. Small enough to squeeze into a garden corner or side yard, yet large enough to house chickens, hold a yoga mat or tools, the sheds are drop-dead charming.
Is it the peaked roofs, the cupolas and aged windowpanes that lend a sense of history to each tidy little footprint of a building? Perhaps it's that Bowling has mastered the perfect proportions and garnishes to appeal to our fantasies of a sweet little destination shed. Gardeners seem to share a universal gene for outbuildings, and Bowling has tapped right into that.
After his success at the past few Northwest Flower & Garden Shows, where he won "Best of Show" in the exhibitor category, Bowling is busy building custom designs.
Don't be tricked by the cute window boxes and clever cupolas. These sheds are practical. The windows hinge wide open, the roofs are sturdy galvanized metal with overhangs, and the chicken coops come with nesting boxes and windows low enough to give the birds a view out into the garden.
How did Bowling hit on the formula for irresistible sheds? "I never draw them, they just evolve," he explains. Kind of like how he got into building sheds in the first place.
After working as a flooring contractor in Riverside, Calif., Bowling moved to Whidbey with a now ex-girlfriend, and started crafting birdhouses and benches. He moved on to sheds after discovering the abundant supply of recycled materials on the island.
Now Bowling starts his days poking around the woodpile at the local construction dump and visiting Island Recycling. "I mill around and some days I hit gold," he says. He stockpiles old doors and windows, and buys bits and pieces on eBay, like the $5 metal spheres he uses as finials.
So what are the specific elements that make these rustic sheds so covetable? First, they're a manageable size. Most Bowling buildings are 5 by 5 or 4 by 4 feet. Yet they're tall and transparent enough that they don't feel dark or cramped. "I'm 6 foot 4 and I need to be able to walk in without hitting my head," says Bowling.
Despite windows, doors and siding old enough to make the buildings look weathered in place, new underlying framework assures they're structurally sound. "Nothing is going to blow them over," he says.
Because Bowling builds with materials on at least their second lifetimes, each shed is unique. If wood or metal doesn't look sufficiently vintage, Bowling adds patina with a vinegar wash. Old saws, axes and trowels are put to use as door handles and brackets. He constructs cupolas out of metal chicken feeders, funnels, stove pipes or pot lids — whatever ends up stacking in an eye-pleasing and sturdy way.
Bowling's sense of proportion and detail comes into play from roof to doorknobs. The former is usually steep and galvanized, the latter a worn tool or beveled glass. Dutch doors, weathervanes and window boxes large enough to hold a few herbs or pansies add yet more charm.
While Bowling usually sticks with his square little footprint and tried-and-true proportions, he is sometimes asked to come up with new shapes and sizes. He built an octagonal building he describes as "Gothic" to fit into a hillside garden in Burien. "The largest shed I ever built was 10 by 12, and we dry-walled and insulated it for a studio," he says.
His sheds have been used as outhouses, chapels, outdoor showers, playhouses and simply as garden focal points. So if you can imagine it, Bowling can build it.
2012年2月12日星期日
2012年1月16日星期一
Oatland vet tends wild bobcat
The first clue was the pile of five dead chickens.
Kenny Okorowski found them behind his Oatland Island house.
Looking further he discovered his sixth chicken buried nearby. His seventh backyard bird was just gone.
“I was walking my dog Saturday morning and when I came around to the backyard, the chicken coop was full of feathers but no chickens,” Okorowski said.
He dug up the buried bird and used it to bait a large animal trap he borrowed from nearby Oatland Island Wildlife Center. He knew the predator would be back for leftovers.
“I wasn’t sure whether it was a bobcat or a coon but I knew whatever it was needed to be caught,” he said.
The next morning the wire cage held a full-grown male bobcat.
“It wasn’t too angry,” said Okorowski, who’s lived on Oatland for more than two decades but who hadn’t seen a bobcat in years. “But if we went too close he’d stand up and look at us.”
Okorowski took the 20-pound cat to Oatland where veterinarian Lesley Mailler has since been doctoring what she believes is an approximately 10-year-old bobcat that probably tangled with a large dog about a month ago.
Its left shoulder blade was crunched apart and the floating pieces of bone had fostered a nasty infection that made it hard for it to hunt.
“I think the wound forced it to find easier prey,” Mailler said.
The bobcat might also be responsible for killing one of Oatland’s turkeys, Darryl, the week before. (Turkey lovers can take consolation in the fact that the other Darryl was unharmed.)
Mailler knocked the cat out and cleaned the wound, pulling chunks of loose bone out then closed it up again. Several days later she knocked him out again for phase two of the wound care. She didn’t have to remove the stitches; he’d already done that.
“Naughty boy,” she said to the drugged cat laying on his side, tongue out, anesthesia mask on.
Mailler removed two surgical drains, tubes of latex that channel pus and fluid out of the wound. Then she stitched him up again, finishing three layers of internal stitches with a surgical glue for good measure. The inch-long piece of bone she removed in the first surgery won’t affect the cat’s mobility, Mailler said.
Named for their short tails, bobcats are the most common wild feline in the U.S. with a total population estimated at more than a million. The males are solitary with overlapping territories estimated at about 10 square miles, according to the Georgia Department of Natural Resources. They are not threatened or endangered.
Mailler has had recent practice on this species because the center last year acquired three adolescent bobcats that had been discovered as babies in South Carolina and nursed by a house cat. Mailler had to neuter them before they were put into their permanent display.
“We’ve had a bobcat bonanza going on,” Mailler said.
But the wild patient won’t be staying at Oatland permanently. Bobcats can live well into their teens, so at 10, this one is middle aged. He’s thin, but the Oatland staff is fattening him up with frozen rats and the same meatballs their captive cats regularly dine on. Just two days after the last surgery he was already feistier, growling at his captor and swatting when they came close to his cage.
“He’s discovered he’s a bobcat again,” Mailler said. “He must be feeling better.”
Mailler plans to get the cat healthy and then relocate it to an as yet undetermined location away from traffic and the temptation of backyard chickens. She’s hopeful for his future.
“He’s a tough old guy,” she said.
Kenny Okorowski found them behind his Oatland Island house.
Looking further he discovered his sixth chicken buried nearby. His seventh backyard bird was just gone.
“I was walking my dog Saturday morning and when I came around to the backyard, the chicken coop was full of feathers but no chickens,” Okorowski said.
He dug up the buried bird and used it to bait a large animal trap he borrowed from nearby Oatland Island Wildlife Center. He knew the predator would be back for leftovers.
“I wasn’t sure whether it was a bobcat or a coon but I knew whatever it was needed to be caught,” he said.
The next morning the wire cage held a full-grown male bobcat.
“It wasn’t too angry,” said Okorowski, who’s lived on Oatland for more than two decades but who hadn’t seen a bobcat in years. “But if we went too close he’d stand up and look at us.”
Okorowski took the 20-pound cat to Oatland where veterinarian Lesley Mailler has since been doctoring what she believes is an approximately 10-year-old bobcat that probably tangled with a large dog about a month ago.
Its left shoulder blade was crunched apart and the floating pieces of bone had fostered a nasty infection that made it hard for it to hunt.
“I think the wound forced it to find easier prey,” Mailler said.
The bobcat might also be responsible for killing one of Oatland’s turkeys, Darryl, the week before. (Turkey lovers can take consolation in the fact that the other Darryl was unharmed.)
Mailler knocked the cat out and cleaned the wound, pulling chunks of loose bone out then closed it up again. Several days later she knocked him out again for phase two of the wound care. She didn’t have to remove the stitches; he’d already done that.
“Naughty boy,” she said to the drugged cat laying on his side, tongue out, anesthesia mask on.
Mailler removed two surgical drains, tubes of latex that channel pus and fluid out of the wound. Then she stitched him up again, finishing three layers of internal stitches with a surgical glue for good measure. The inch-long piece of bone she removed in the first surgery won’t affect the cat’s mobility, Mailler said.
Named for their short tails, bobcats are the most common wild feline in the U.S. with a total population estimated at more than a million. The males are solitary with overlapping territories estimated at about 10 square miles, according to the Georgia Department of Natural Resources. They are not threatened or endangered.
Mailler has had recent practice on this species because the center last year acquired three adolescent bobcats that had been discovered as babies in South Carolina and nursed by a house cat. Mailler had to neuter them before they were put into their permanent display.
“We’ve had a bobcat bonanza going on,” Mailler said.
But the wild patient won’t be staying at Oatland permanently. Bobcats can live well into their teens, so at 10, this one is middle aged. He’s thin, but the Oatland staff is fattening him up with frozen rats and the same meatballs their captive cats regularly dine on. Just two days after the last surgery he was already feistier, growling at his captor and swatting when they came close to his cage.
“He’s discovered he’s a bobcat again,” Mailler said. “He must be feeling better.”
Mailler plans to get the cat healthy and then relocate it to an as yet undetermined location away from traffic and the temptation of backyard chickens. She’s hopeful for his future.
“He’s a tough old guy,” she said.
2011年12月27日星期二
The Real Cost of Backyard Chickens
It sounded like a killer let loose in the chicken coop, so I jumped from the couch in hot pursuit. With my bare hands—and still nearly napping, though my feet were suddenly flying—I was apparently going to have to best a raccoon or a fox, though perhaps I’d get lucky and merely have to duel a vole. Point is, my wife loved those chickens and it was her birthday, for God’s sake. Gallantry was in order.
I had to outrun—then outfight—this demon.
For those new to this column, let me chronicle how I arrived at a surreal point when a nap was punctured by a flat-out sprint toward venal killers—and in my backyard, no less.
Earlier this year, Lori and I surprised friends, neighbors and probably even ourselves by deciding to raise chickens. Never mind that we already had 3 kids and 2 dogs and 2 cats. And forget that we hardly have a farm, barely even 1/5 of a suburban acre. Fact is, we’re not alone in feeling a pull toward chickens. Chickens were referred to in The New Yorker as the new “it” bird and Alice Walker just came out with a book called “Chicken Chronicles,” essays of her thoughts while gazing at her navel in her chicken coop. (Yes, I bought it for my wife. No, I won’t read it, even at gunpoint.)
But I digress. The point is that there was an apparent massacre in my midst—Helter Skelter meets hens--and, hold on, I’m getting there. But first let me just say that our decision to jump onto the feathery bandwagon was easier said than done. I suffer from a bad case of nonchalance about how hard new projects will be, but even Lori was taken aback about how much it cost to build a chicken run and small coop.
We stopped counting at $1,800. There goes the economic justification for raising your own livestock.
But life stretches beyond the ledger. And chickens are (and I apologize for this ahead of time) odd ducks. Their necks bob with comic regularity even as their habits—reliably going home to roost every night—add a certain gracious, timeless cycle to a suburban life, otherwise too far in the hold of school bus arrivals and departures, a violin lessons here, grocery shopping there.
Was it all over before it had barely started?
Luckily, no. Despite the battle cries emanating from the chicken run, my tussling services were not needed, nor were the skills of a forensic specialist. All the hens were totally fine. The only sight out of the ordinary was Loretta Sopressata, one of our five, who was simply activated like never before. Clucking loudly, something had given her a shot to the spirit. Inspecting the run and its perimeter, I found no trespasser, or even an attempt at a breach.
I went to their coop: also, all quiet. And that’s when I saw them: a pair of eggs. They were the first the hens had laid. That we had effectively paid $1,000 for each could be brushed aside, at least for the moment. These were our first eggs. They came a month ahead of schedule and right on my wife’s birthday.
I stared at the perfect pair of brown eggs, one elegantly spotted, for a few minutes, posed them for photographs and as soon as my wife came home, we called up the neighbors, who came over to gawk.
Both timeless and an idea of the moment, only chickens can turn the production of two simple eggs into a collective revelation.
I had to outrun—then outfight—this demon.
For those new to this column, let me chronicle how I arrived at a surreal point when a nap was punctured by a flat-out sprint toward venal killers—and in my backyard, no less.
Earlier this year, Lori and I surprised friends, neighbors and probably even ourselves by deciding to raise chickens. Never mind that we already had 3 kids and 2 dogs and 2 cats. And forget that we hardly have a farm, barely even 1/5 of a suburban acre. Fact is, we’re not alone in feeling a pull toward chickens. Chickens were referred to in The New Yorker as the new “it” bird and Alice Walker just came out with a book called “Chicken Chronicles,” essays of her thoughts while gazing at her navel in her chicken coop. (Yes, I bought it for my wife. No, I won’t read it, even at gunpoint.)
But I digress. The point is that there was an apparent massacre in my midst—Helter Skelter meets hens--and, hold on, I’m getting there. But first let me just say that our decision to jump onto the feathery bandwagon was easier said than done. I suffer from a bad case of nonchalance about how hard new projects will be, but even Lori was taken aback about how much it cost to build a chicken run and small coop.
We stopped counting at $1,800. There goes the economic justification for raising your own livestock.
But life stretches beyond the ledger. And chickens are (and I apologize for this ahead of time) odd ducks. Their necks bob with comic regularity even as their habits—reliably going home to roost every night—add a certain gracious, timeless cycle to a suburban life, otherwise too far in the hold of school bus arrivals and departures, a violin lessons here, grocery shopping there.
Was it all over before it had barely started?
Luckily, no. Despite the battle cries emanating from the chicken run, my tussling services were not needed, nor were the skills of a forensic specialist. All the hens were totally fine. The only sight out of the ordinary was Loretta Sopressata, one of our five, who was simply activated like never before. Clucking loudly, something had given her a shot to the spirit. Inspecting the run and its perimeter, I found no trespasser, or even an attempt at a breach.
I went to their coop: also, all quiet. And that’s when I saw them: a pair of eggs. They were the first the hens had laid. That we had effectively paid $1,000 for each could be brushed aside, at least for the moment. These were our first eggs. They came a month ahead of schedule and right on my wife’s birthday.
I stared at the perfect pair of brown eggs, one elegantly spotted, for a few minutes, posed them for photographs and as soon as my wife came home, we called up the neighbors, who came over to gawk.
Both timeless and an idea of the moment, only chickens can turn the production of two simple eggs into a collective revelation.
2011年12月21日星期三
A roost of one's own - now available in Muncie
Muncie might not be a major automaker anymore, but we've established a toehold in another key manufacturing domain.
Chicken coops.
Brook Linton, who runs Solid State LLC out of a cavernous 90-year-old warehouse on the city's near south side, recently explained what got him into it.
"Nobody around here was doing it," he said. "Nobody was making chicken coops. A lot of people are getting into chickens again."
Tall and lanky, Linton was bundled against the cold air flowing through his drafty building at 800 S. Liberty St. last week. As he talked, everywhere you looked in its western end were stacks of old doors, tumbled sinks and bath tubs, framed windows reclaimed from walls and felled porch posts waiting to rise again.
All this, he noted, was salvaged from old houses razed over the past couple years.
Can't find an eight-foot door? This is your place.
"All the components of the house, we resell them," Linton said. "A lot of people who can't find anything in the box stores come here."
It was at the far eastern end of the warehouse, though, where employee John Halsey was hard at work, building a new chicken coop from recycled wood.
"We have a pretty set pattern," Linton noted, of his coops' design.
The young businessman launched this part of his enterprise about eight months ago. Halsey was working on the seventh coop, and four have been sold. A couple of the others sat outside the warehouse, looking like big doll houses, their weathered blue and yellow paint schemes determined by the color of the reclaimed wood that went into their manufacture.
"We really don't paint them," Linton said. "Whatever reclaimed color the wood is, that's on the walls."
So, what will a chicken coop cost you?
If you'd like the large coop, one that as many as 25 chickens would be proud to call home, it will be about $1,000.
On the other hand, if you are more of a 10-chicken man (or woman), that will run you only about $550.
The smaller coop, by the way, was specially designed with ease of hauling in mind, Linton said, it being small enough to fit in the bed of a compact S-10 Chevy pickup truck.
Of course, if your chicken ambitions far exceed 10 or even 25 fowl, don't despair.
"We can make bigger coops," Linton said. "It's custom sized."
By the way, each coop contains a roost inside.
"That's because chickens like to sleep up off the ground," Linton explained, just that quickly doubling the scope of this reporter's chicken knowledge.
Who are the folks buying his chicken coops? It's probably too early to have accurately identified a market demographic yet, but he said one customer was a new retiree.
"He just wanted something to do," he said.
More power to folks like that, he continued, and their dreams of raising chickens.
"We're hoping that it catches on," Linton said.
Chicken coops.
Brook Linton, who runs Solid State LLC out of a cavernous 90-year-old warehouse on the city's near south side, recently explained what got him into it.
"Nobody around here was doing it," he said. "Nobody was making chicken coops. A lot of people are getting into chickens again."
Tall and lanky, Linton was bundled against the cold air flowing through his drafty building at 800 S. Liberty St. last week. As he talked, everywhere you looked in its western end were stacks of old doors, tumbled sinks and bath tubs, framed windows reclaimed from walls and felled porch posts waiting to rise again.
All this, he noted, was salvaged from old houses razed over the past couple years.
Can't find an eight-foot door? This is your place.
"All the components of the house, we resell them," Linton said. "A lot of people who can't find anything in the box stores come here."
It was at the far eastern end of the warehouse, though, where employee John Halsey was hard at work, building a new chicken coop from recycled wood.
"We have a pretty set pattern," Linton noted, of his coops' design.
The young businessman launched this part of his enterprise about eight months ago. Halsey was working on the seventh coop, and four have been sold. A couple of the others sat outside the warehouse, looking like big doll houses, their weathered blue and yellow paint schemes determined by the color of the reclaimed wood that went into their manufacture.
"We really don't paint them," Linton said. "Whatever reclaimed color the wood is, that's on the walls."
So, what will a chicken coop cost you?
If you'd like the large coop, one that as many as 25 chickens would be proud to call home, it will be about $1,000.
On the other hand, if you are more of a 10-chicken man (or woman), that will run you only about $550.
The smaller coop, by the way, was specially designed with ease of hauling in mind, Linton said, it being small enough to fit in the bed of a compact S-10 Chevy pickup truck.
Of course, if your chicken ambitions far exceed 10 or even 25 fowl, don't despair.
"We can make bigger coops," Linton said. "It's custom sized."
By the way, each coop contains a roost inside.
"That's because chickens like to sleep up off the ground," Linton explained, just that quickly doubling the scope of this reporter's chicken knowledge.
Who are the folks buying his chicken coops? It's probably too early to have accurately identified a market demographic yet, but he said one customer was a new retiree.
"He just wanted something to do," he said.
More power to folks like that, he continued, and their dreams of raising chickens.
"We're hoping that it catches on," Linton said.
2011年12月19日星期一
Attacks by radical settlers on Israeli army spark debate
Charred tires and boulders pushed to the sides of the road leading to Yitzhar, a West Bank Jewish community near Nablus, were among the signs that residents had made an effort to prevent Israeli soldiers and police from entering the settlement. Patches of grease stains -- remnants of the lubricants that had been poured on the narrow road to induce army jeeps, police sedans and backhoes to lose traction -- were others.
It seems that if not for the influence of the late Lubavitcher rebbe, there might have been more resistance, not just the blockades and grease on the road last Thursday night, according to an account of the events related by Avraham Binyamin, the settlement’s spokesman to JTA during a visit Sunday.
"It is not our way to stand by passively while such a brutal act is perpetrated," said Binyamin, a tall, bespectacled young man with a full beard, sidelocks and a large knitted yarmulke, pointing to the ruins of a home and a chicken coop destroyed under government orders for being built on land said to belong to Palestinians.
"But we honored the wishes of the man who owns the land here and did not attempt to resist the destruction," he added, "at least not in the vicinity of his property."
The man who Binyamin said owns the land is affiliated with a stream of Chabad Chasidism that believes the deceased Lubavitcher rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson, will return as messiah. In this milieu, it is customary to "ask" the rebbe for his advice by randomly placing a question written on a piece of paper inside a compendium of Schneerson's letters. In this case, according to Binyamin, the "answer" given by the rebbe via one of his old letters was, "Don't fight, concentrate on building."
The willingness of Yitzhar residents to respect a dead rabbi's command -- one they believe came from the grave -- but ignore an order by the government of Israel is instructive. So was Binyamin's caveat that there would be no violence "in the vicinity."
Just hours after the destruction of the house, located on a hilltop adjacent to Yitzhar known as Mitzpeh Yitzhar, arsonists torched a mosque in Burqa, a village about four miles east of Ramallah -- a half-hour drive from Yitzhar. The desecrators spray-painted the words "war" and "Mitzpeh Yitzhar" on the wall of the mosque.
It was just one in a chain of violent vigilante attacks. In the past few years, radical right-wing activists, representing a growing fringe, have pursued a campaign they call "price tag" to avenge perceived injustices meted out against them by the Israeli government, such as the demolition on Mitzpeh Yitzhar.
Mosques have been burned and desecrated with graffiti such as "Muhammad is a pig," Palestinian olive trees have been slashed and burned, and other Palestinian property has been damaged. Vandals also have targeted property belonging to Israeli security forces.
But a red line was crossed in recent days.
Shortly after midnight on Dec. 13, settler radicals -- often referred to as "hilltop youths" because they tend to be young and live on small, isolated outposts -- stormed into an Israeli base in the northern West Bank. They burned tires and vandalized army vehicles, throwing stones and paint at them.
Elsewhere in the northern West Bank, settlers also attacked and lightly wounded an Israeli army commander when they forced open the door of his jeep and hurled a brick at him.
These attacks on the Israel Defense Forces -- one of Israel’s most revered institutions and one to which Israeli families must entrust their sons and daughters -- appalled Israelis and sparked intense debate over how best to combat lawlessness in the West Bank.
Political leaders on the left and center argued that the current government's ideological affinity with the settler movement impaired its ability to crack down on the violence.
Tzipi Livni, Knesset opposition leader and head of the Kadima Party, said in a statement that “this government … is laying fertile ground for these tumors. When Netanyahu says that we are dealing with rioters and not ideological crime, it indicates one of two things -- either he doesn’t understand what is happening here, or he doesn’t want to deal with this extremist ideology because of his natural coalition partners."
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and other government coalition members have come out strongly and repeatedly against the vigilante violence. Netanyahu said it must be combated with "a heavy hand."
However, the Netanyahu government continues to support settlement growth; just last week, Israeli Defense Minister Ehud Barak approved a a new neighborhood in the Gush Etzion settlement bloc, near Bethlehem.
This week, the whips of all the political parties in the governing coalition except Barak’s Independence faction supported a bill to prevent the demolition of Jewish homes thought to be built on private Palestinian property, like the one destroyed in Mitzpeh Yitzhar.
It seems that if not for the influence of the late Lubavitcher rebbe, there might have been more resistance, not just the blockades and grease on the road last Thursday night, according to an account of the events related by Avraham Binyamin, the settlement’s spokesman to JTA during a visit Sunday.
"It is not our way to stand by passively while such a brutal act is perpetrated," said Binyamin, a tall, bespectacled young man with a full beard, sidelocks and a large knitted yarmulke, pointing to the ruins of a home and a chicken coop destroyed under government orders for being built on land said to belong to Palestinians.
"But we honored the wishes of the man who owns the land here and did not attempt to resist the destruction," he added, "at least not in the vicinity of his property."
The man who Binyamin said owns the land is affiliated with a stream of Chabad Chasidism that believes the deceased Lubavitcher rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson, will return as messiah. In this milieu, it is customary to "ask" the rebbe for his advice by randomly placing a question written on a piece of paper inside a compendium of Schneerson's letters. In this case, according to Binyamin, the "answer" given by the rebbe via one of his old letters was, "Don't fight, concentrate on building."
The willingness of Yitzhar residents to respect a dead rabbi's command -- one they believe came from the grave -- but ignore an order by the government of Israel is instructive. So was Binyamin's caveat that there would be no violence "in the vicinity."
Just hours after the destruction of the house, located on a hilltop adjacent to Yitzhar known as Mitzpeh Yitzhar, arsonists torched a mosque in Burqa, a village about four miles east of Ramallah -- a half-hour drive from Yitzhar. The desecrators spray-painted the words "war" and "Mitzpeh Yitzhar" on the wall of the mosque.
It was just one in a chain of violent vigilante attacks. In the past few years, radical right-wing activists, representing a growing fringe, have pursued a campaign they call "price tag" to avenge perceived injustices meted out against them by the Israeli government, such as the demolition on Mitzpeh Yitzhar.
Mosques have been burned and desecrated with graffiti such as "Muhammad is a pig," Palestinian olive trees have been slashed and burned, and other Palestinian property has been damaged. Vandals also have targeted property belonging to Israeli security forces.
But a red line was crossed in recent days.
Shortly after midnight on Dec. 13, settler radicals -- often referred to as "hilltop youths" because they tend to be young and live on small, isolated outposts -- stormed into an Israeli base in the northern West Bank. They burned tires and vandalized army vehicles, throwing stones and paint at them.
Elsewhere in the northern West Bank, settlers also attacked and lightly wounded an Israeli army commander when they forced open the door of his jeep and hurled a brick at him.
These attacks on the Israel Defense Forces -- one of Israel’s most revered institutions and one to which Israeli families must entrust their sons and daughters -- appalled Israelis and sparked intense debate over how best to combat lawlessness in the West Bank.
Political leaders on the left and center argued that the current government's ideological affinity with the settler movement impaired its ability to crack down on the violence.
Tzipi Livni, Knesset opposition leader and head of the Kadima Party, said in a statement that “this government … is laying fertile ground for these tumors. When Netanyahu says that we are dealing with rioters and not ideological crime, it indicates one of two things -- either he doesn’t understand what is happening here, or he doesn’t want to deal with this extremist ideology because of his natural coalition partners."
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and other government coalition members have come out strongly and repeatedly against the vigilante violence. Netanyahu said it must be combated with "a heavy hand."
However, the Netanyahu government continues to support settlement growth; just last week, Israeli Defense Minister Ehud Barak approved a a new neighborhood in the Gush Etzion settlement bloc, near Bethlehem.
This week, the whips of all the political parties in the governing coalition except Barak’s Independence faction supported a bill to prevent the demolition of Jewish homes thought to be built on private Palestinian property, like the one destroyed in Mitzpeh Yitzhar.
2011年11月29日星期二
Family hopes to raise chickens in Pasco
Amelia Larson hopes to use an empty chicken coop in her Pasco backyard to raise chickens with her four children.
The stay-at-home mom says it would be a chance for her kids to learn about raising their own food.
But whether the new coop's residents will be allowed depends on what the Pasco City Council decides about her request to allow chickens in residential zones.
Chickens are allowed only in residential suburban zones, but not residential zones, which have a smaller lot size. If Larson's request is approved, chickens and rabbits would be allowed in residential zones as well.
Families could then own up to three chickens in residential zones, with the total number of chickens, rabbits, dogs and cats capped at six for a single family home on a lot 5,000 square feet or larger, said Rick White, city community and economic development director.
Kennewick allows chickens in residential suburban zones but not other residential zones, unless the property was annexed into the city with the use grandfathered in and has continued to have chickens since annexation.
Richland allows chickens, except for roosters, and rabbits among permitted household pets, according to Richland municipal code. Each dwelling unit is limited to five household pets.
West Richland allows chickens and rabbits in residential zones. Homes are limited to two or five small animals, depending on density.
Larson said she and her husband, Jeff, never have owned chickens before, but she wanted to raise some of her family's food. At first, she thought chickens weren't possible in a residential neighborhood.
But her research found other cities did allow it.
So the stay-at-home mom sent a letter to the city asking officials to legalize small numbers of hens and rabbits in residential zones. And she included examples of ordinances from other cities like Seattle.
Larson said her family would likely try raising both, although they are most interested in chickens. Other families expressed interest in rabbits, prompting her to ask for both.
Chickens are among the easiest farm animals to care for and don't need much space, she said. And they don't make a lot of noise in comparison with other allowed pets, she said.
And Larson said they will eat almost any scraps and help fertilize gardens. That's a self-sufficiency she is looking for.
Her children, Gabriel, 12, Faith, 9, Asher, 6, and Elias, 3, are excited by the idea, and Gabriel spoke with Larson in support of the proposal before the Nov. 17 city planning commission, she said.
The city planning commission recommended that the council approve the change to city code.
Jason Caryl of Pasco asked the city council to support the measure. His family raised chickens when they lived in another area, and the joy his three children experienced and the things they learned from collecting eggs and cooking them was undeniable, he said.
But Glen Fry of Pasco said he doesn't like the idea of having a rickety old chicken coop near his home. If he wanted to live near livestock, he said he wouldn't have moved to Pasco.
Councilwoman Rebecca Francik said she thinks that if the city allows people to own large dogs, it's hard to say people can't have a couple of chickens.
"I find that dogs are much more annoying noise-wise than birds," she said.
Mayor Matt Watkins said he thinks using dog noise as a comparison isn't good because the city already has an issue with noise. Noise is the most common complaint he receives from city residents.
He said he would support chickens only if they were in or right next to the owner's bedroom.
But Francik said she grew up with chickens, and without roosters, they aren't that noisy. And they eat bugs in the garden and produce fresh eggs.
Councilman Al Yenney said he would support the measure but thinks that "hens" is too broad of a term. That could include guinea hens, he said.
The city council will continue to discuss the proposal at the Dec. 12 workshop meeting.
At first, Larson said she felt like she shouldn't bother. But the process has been relatively fast and city staff has worked with her, she said. She said she would encourage others who would like to see a change in city code to ask.
The stay-at-home mom says it would be a chance for her kids to learn about raising their own food.
But whether the new coop's residents will be allowed depends on what the Pasco City Council decides about her request to allow chickens in residential zones.
Chickens are allowed only in residential suburban zones, but not residential zones, which have a smaller lot size. If Larson's request is approved, chickens and rabbits would be allowed in residential zones as well.
Families could then own up to three chickens in residential zones, with the total number of chickens, rabbits, dogs and cats capped at six for a single family home on a lot 5,000 square feet or larger, said Rick White, city community and economic development director.
Kennewick allows chickens in residential suburban zones but not other residential zones, unless the property was annexed into the city with the use grandfathered in and has continued to have chickens since annexation.
Richland allows chickens, except for roosters, and rabbits among permitted household pets, according to Richland municipal code. Each dwelling unit is limited to five household pets.
West Richland allows chickens and rabbits in residential zones. Homes are limited to two or five small animals, depending on density.
Larson said she and her husband, Jeff, never have owned chickens before, but she wanted to raise some of her family's food. At first, she thought chickens weren't possible in a residential neighborhood.
But her research found other cities did allow it.
So the stay-at-home mom sent a letter to the city asking officials to legalize small numbers of hens and rabbits in residential zones. And she included examples of ordinances from other cities like Seattle.
Larson said her family would likely try raising both, although they are most interested in chickens. Other families expressed interest in rabbits, prompting her to ask for both.
Chickens are among the easiest farm animals to care for and don't need much space, she said. And they don't make a lot of noise in comparison with other allowed pets, she said.
And Larson said they will eat almost any scraps and help fertilize gardens. That's a self-sufficiency she is looking for.
Her children, Gabriel, 12, Faith, 9, Asher, 6, and Elias, 3, are excited by the idea, and Gabriel spoke with Larson in support of the proposal before the Nov. 17 city planning commission, she said.
The city planning commission recommended that the council approve the change to city code.
Jason Caryl of Pasco asked the city council to support the measure. His family raised chickens when they lived in another area, and the joy his three children experienced and the things they learned from collecting eggs and cooking them was undeniable, he said.
But Glen Fry of Pasco said he doesn't like the idea of having a rickety old chicken coop near his home. If he wanted to live near livestock, he said he wouldn't have moved to Pasco.
Councilwoman Rebecca Francik said she thinks that if the city allows people to own large dogs, it's hard to say people can't have a couple of chickens.
"I find that dogs are much more annoying noise-wise than birds," she said.
Mayor Matt Watkins said he thinks using dog noise as a comparison isn't good because the city already has an issue with noise. Noise is the most common complaint he receives from city residents.
He said he would support chickens only if they were in or right next to the owner's bedroom.
But Francik said she grew up with chickens, and without roosters, they aren't that noisy. And they eat bugs in the garden and produce fresh eggs.
Councilman Al Yenney said he would support the measure but thinks that "hens" is too broad of a term. That could include guinea hens, he said.
The city council will continue to discuss the proposal at the Dec. 12 workshop meeting.
At first, Larson said she felt like she shouldn't bother. But the process has been relatively fast and city staff has worked with her, she said. She said she would encourage others who would like to see a change in city code to ask.
2011年9月4日星期日
The power of a few well-chosen words
The moon vine in the backyard has entwined the empty chicken coop and is now launching an assault on the Mexican petunia next to it. The vine's large blooms are white and diaphanous, like tissues left on a make-up table in the dressing room of a Broadway star.
I'm only imaging this, though once I had occasion to go backstage before a Broadway play. It was a subterranean chaos, chattering people in various states of undress scurrying to and fro in a catacomb of small, low ceiling rooms. I've also stood outside the stage entrance after a performance watching fans and actors as they emerged from the theater. Moments earlier they had been elegant and dignified, full of purpose, the height of sophistication. In the light of the street, they were kids with backpacks, in T-shirts, jeans and Nikes.
In its own way, a flower garden, too, has all the magic of the theater. With its ever-changing cast of butterflies, hummingbirds and bees, a garden has all the elements that draw humans to Times Square: drama, beauty, sex. Though the action may be more discreet, it's all there for the patient and knowing observer.
Standing amid the color, beauty and movement, a flower garden can be a meditation, a gentle way to ease into a stressful day. Most mornings a perky hummingbird -- think Rodgers and Hammerstein -- is usually the first actor to take the stage. Clad in an iridescent green coat, he hovers in front of the Turk's cap, trumpet vine and the black and blue salvia. Most days he's all business -- pausing between each flower to take stock; occasionally he will linger for a second at eye-level an arm's length away, as if to say, "What are you doing here? Friend or foe?"
In the South, gardening is one of the many distractions we have to help us endure our crazy hot summers. There are plenty of others -- among them, watermelon, ice cream, fireflies and America singing "Ventura Highway."
I love to get emails with a quote at the bottom. Here's one that accompanied a recent message from Allison Barnette, a Caledonia 8th Grade Social Studies teacher:
"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people to collect wood, and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea."
-- Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1900-1944); aviator, writer
Amazing the power of a few well-chosen words strung together in the right order: "... the endless immensity of the sea." Makes you want to get on a sailboat and head for the south Pacific.
NPR's Scott Simon the other day offered a tribute to Jack Layton, a Canadian politician who recently died from cancer at the age of 61. This from Simon's report:
Layton joined the liberal New Democratic Party, and lost several elections -- for Parliament, and mayor of Toronto--before winning his first seat in the House of Commons in 2004.
He brought the New Democrats to their biggest victory in history in May. But by July, Jack Layton's cancer returned. Two days before he died, he wrote a letter that his family released this week. It is graceful, blunt and personal.
"Unfortunately my treatment has not worked out," he writes, but tells others afflicted with cancer, "please don't be discouraged that my own journey hasn't gone as well as I had hoped. You must not lose your own hope. Treatments and therapies have never been better. ... My only other advice is to cherish every moment with those you love at every stage of your journey, as I have done this summer."
And then, a man who gave his life to politics closes with what amounts to a personal credo:
"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we'll change the world.
"All my very best,
"Jack Layton."
Maybe I'll use Jack Layton's quote at the bottom of my e-mails: "Let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we'll change the world."
I'm only imaging this, though once I had occasion to go backstage before a Broadway play. It was a subterranean chaos, chattering people in various states of undress scurrying to and fro in a catacomb of small, low ceiling rooms. I've also stood outside the stage entrance after a performance watching fans and actors as they emerged from the theater. Moments earlier they had been elegant and dignified, full of purpose, the height of sophistication. In the light of the street, they were kids with backpacks, in T-shirts, jeans and Nikes.
In its own way, a flower garden, too, has all the magic of the theater. With its ever-changing cast of butterflies, hummingbirds and bees, a garden has all the elements that draw humans to Times Square: drama, beauty, sex. Though the action may be more discreet, it's all there for the patient and knowing observer.
Standing amid the color, beauty and movement, a flower garden can be a meditation, a gentle way to ease into a stressful day. Most mornings a perky hummingbird -- think Rodgers and Hammerstein -- is usually the first actor to take the stage. Clad in an iridescent green coat, he hovers in front of the Turk's cap, trumpet vine and the black and blue salvia. Most days he's all business -- pausing between each flower to take stock; occasionally he will linger for a second at eye-level an arm's length away, as if to say, "What are you doing here? Friend or foe?"
In the South, gardening is one of the many distractions we have to help us endure our crazy hot summers. There are plenty of others -- among them, watermelon, ice cream, fireflies and America singing "Ventura Highway."
I love to get emails with a quote at the bottom. Here's one that accompanied a recent message from Allison Barnette, a Caledonia 8th Grade Social Studies teacher:
"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people to collect wood, and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea."
-- Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1900-1944); aviator, writer
Amazing the power of a few well-chosen words strung together in the right order: "... the endless immensity of the sea." Makes you want to get on a sailboat and head for the south Pacific.
NPR's Scott Simon the other day offered a tribute to Jack Layton, a Canadian politician who recently died from cancer at the age of 61. This from Simon's report:
Layton joined the liberal New Democratic Party, and lost several elections -- for Parliament, and mayor of Toronto--before winning his first seat in the House of Commons in 2004.
He brought the New Democrats to their biggest victory in history in May. But by July, Jack Layton's cancer returned. Two days before he died, he wrote a letter that his family released this week. It is graceful, blunt and personal.
"Unfortunately my treatment has not worked out," he writes, but tells others afflicted with cancer, "please don't be discouraged that my own journey hasn't gone as well as I had hoped. You must not lose your own hope. Treatments and therapies have never been better. ... My only other advice is to cherish every moment with those you love at every stage of your journey, as I have done this summer."
And then, a man who gave his life to politics closes with what amounts to a personal credo:
"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we'll change the world.
"All my very best,
"Jack Layton."
Maybe I'll use Jack Layton's quote at the bottom of my e-mails: "Let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we'll change the world."
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