Wednesday, April 1, 2009

I've moved!

Hey out there! I've moved 4000 Volts to wordpress now, a shwanky new hosting site. So long blogger, and thanks for all the fish!

New Address:

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

4000 Volts is Moving!

Hello devoted readers,

I've decided to move the blog from blogspot to wordpress. It seems that wordpress has many more style options to choose from, allowing greater creativity and stylistic options. And I'm all about style. I'll probably keep this blog for a few months, but then I might shut it down. I'll post the new address here as soon as I have it.

Saturday, March 14, 2009


A beaver swims through the bog with a branch in his teeth. His eyes are bright black with the sheen of the sunrise. His tail goes to work on the house that is never finished, making the usual clapping noise heard here every morning at dawn. Tall snow-capped mountains cast shadows on either side.

The sky of red turns to a sea of gold, and on the adjacent shimmering trout can be seen jumping at the insects that come out to eat in the mornings. They look dark on one side because of the still steep angle from the rising orb in the sky.

A shadowy figure can be seen in a boat on the lake. He wears a green fisherman's hat with the vest to match, sipping his rich coffee from an old stainless steel mug. He flicks a line or two with a practiced hand out to the trout, fixing to catch dinner for this particular evening of the vacation.

Ripples edge outwards from the far opposite bank. A madam moose has come for breakfast by the water's edge, and the local wildlife serves her up fine cuisine. She munches quietly with her deep black eyes always looking calmly for any sign of disturbance. A picture of contentedness, one feels relaxed just watching her.

The lake flows slowly and lazily out the east end to a river, carrying with it the last dried leaves left over from autumn, and some of the new spring ones too. Maple, pine, spruce, and oak watch from the riverbanks, sheltering the river, soaking up it's clear nectar, basking in the sun that turns the sky from orange to blue. Canadian geese fly overhead in formation, returning home now that winter's grip has thawed.

The river winds lazily along, growing it's speed and power as it's depth diminishes. White water bubbles with furious glee over granite, shale, and limestone, glittering with sunshine and slippery scales with the slowly rising sun. A shaggy brown grizzly bear stares with a calm focus at the rapids, ankle-deep and hoping to catch some breakfast of its own. A single paw flashes again and again, and success is slow to arrive. But the bear knows it's patience will be rewarded.

Streams and creeks add their bounties to the rapids, and the river becomes strong and mighty as it chisels its way towards the sea. Flashes of white, grey and brown from either side either bank accompany the silent roar of the water as packs of wolves hunt deer, elk and moose. A howl pierces the night, electrifying the soul with the success of the kill, catching of the scent, the thrill of the chase.

The river makes a sudden drop, roaring down into a moss-covered rock pool. Cedar trees grow tall here, while squirrels, cougars and rabbits take shelter under the cool rain forest canopy. The silence is deafening, yet comforting in a lost sort of way. Only the whisper of the wind can be heard here, and individual things tangible and intangible are lost under the ferns.

Slowly the slippery silky water slides silently down the gentle rock bed to the ocean's edge. Vast, deep and blue it gently roars its supremacy while the whitecaps roll in the dying sun. The sky orb glitters while seagulls continue their incessant search for food. Eagles swoop in and gracefully pluck silver salmon from the sea's surface. The sandy beach is dotted with slabs of rock, while the bay streches in barely a curve for kilometers in each direction. And in the distance, a majestic Orca breaches the surface and crashes back with white fireworks.

Back on the lake the sun is setting. The beaver throws in the towel for the day. The fisherman is back, he's out for the second catch of trout. A pair of loons solidify the peace with a calming call over the bronze surfaced lake in the mountains.

Then a maple leaf, red on its tree, waves then drifts down to brush the water's surface before settling on a white patch of unmelted snow. The fisherman replaces his hat, running his fingers over the Union Jack that adorns the left side. In the dark silence of the forest, a white lily stands out against the saffron pool of churning water at the base of the waterfall. Over the ocean, an eagle feather drifts down from the sky and drifts to shore.

The leaf, flag, lily, and feather are illuminated in pale moonshine when Luna comes to chase the stars. When the day comes again, maybe the stars will be brighter.