Life STYLE?

Several people have told me in the last week, via emails and phones and such, that they admire my "life style." I guess they admire that I have the guts to dump a theoretically acceptable life in San Francisco to move to a small farm in fly-over country and try to align myself with .... what? Nature? The Great Mystery? Truth? "The Land?" Spirit?

News Flash: it's called "going for broke." And "broke" isn't a euphemism.

And as for "style" - if I could only find my camera cables you'd understand that I haven't any. At all. Unless, of course, one considers large, random piles of empty boxes an expression of something more than a trip hazard.

The pretext - and it's "real" - is that I moved to this particular location for family reasons. It's true. But it isn't as if I'm entering a womb here! Everyone has a full life - I knew that, cautioned myself about it before I left - and the net net is, I'm still on the fringes on the traditional days, wondering what in blazes to do with myself. When I lived in SF I had the good sense - and the easy access - to take a quick trip to Esalen or some such retreat for holidays. Volunteering was also an easy choice... there were always places that needed help cooking/serving for those with no dinner of their own. Now it's not so easy. No close-by escapes, and those places that do serve the hungry.... seem to be closed on Thanksgiving. Harumph. Closed????? What are they thinking?

ah, balderdash. today was difficult. Tomorrow... or the next... will be better.

Grab-Bag

What does:
tent poles
sweatshirt
vase
foot-long long sticks of cinnamon
lipstick holder
vodka glass (carefully wrapped)
leather gloves
decorative pillow
stuffed animal

all have in common?







the movers put them all in the same box. ??????????

Moderation on Older Posts

Have I mentioned that I have a bit of the Luddite in my soul?

Actually, what I detest most is fritzing around with things and changing them just for the sake of change, which is what seems to happen most with program "features." Things that you once could do easily - vanish.

And that's what seems to have happened to the handy garbage can that used to decorate each comment when I was signed in. Only.... now it doesn't show me as signed in unless I hit the button for "sign in" and then it notices that I already am and takes me directly to the dashboard. No, it doesn't then allow me to go back, view a comment and delete it. Instead, it again shows me as just some random perp trying to mess with this blog and hides the garbage can.

So deleting the souls that troll for bogus links to their own pathetic lives is no longer simple.

I've noticed that this new wave of spam is targeted at older posts, so I've enabled "moderator" on those older than 14 days; establishing, as it were, a "gated community." For most of you, that won't matter at all. For the few that look at older posts and comment... I apologize, your comment will no longer be displayed with the others until I've had a chance to read it and wave it past the new gates.

Too Big to Fail? Maybe NOT...

The House is proposing new legislation that would enable the government to take over and dismantle financial institutions that become precarious, regardless of size.

The republicans are getting their panties in a twist over this, saying it's "unconstitutional" to take private property, and that's what this amounts to. Obama's administration is also cool to the idea. They apparently want to be able to *manage* failing banks, but not take them apart.

What amuses me in this argument is that the entire issue of *Corporate Rights* is so new. Really. It's only since the 1970's that corporations were accorded more rights under law than people (yes, chillen, they have more protections than you do, and that's because various constitutional civil rights have been awarded to businesses. Under law, Corporations are people with extra rights.) A mere 100 years ago the idea that a business would have the level of legal protections they do now was considered preposterous.

At the writing of the constitution there was much worry over the role of business, and the threat they pose to human societies if they get too large.

In those days, a business needed to renew it's charter - it's license to exist - annually. And they could be refused, and were. POOF. Charter denied, business gone. Clearly that led to abuses, and bribes, and all manner of corruption, and so businesses were afforded protection under law in order to clean up corruption in government.

Now the pendulum has swung so far in the other direction, that it's necessary for the government to pass new legislation to deny a business the right to continue, no matter what the consequences of their business decisions, and no matter what their impact on the economy. And on your retirement plan.

I offer you exhibit A: AIG

There may well have been corporate negligence there, but if there was malfeasance, the finger of fate should point to Bear Sterns, who consistantly rated the junk that AIG insured as "triple A." Regardless, despite the utterly preposterous stupidity of their business model, we-the-citizens bailed them out because it seemed better than allowing everyone to be pulled down with them as they imploded.

Wouldn't it have been better to take them apart, excise the cancer, and let the healthy parts of the business continue while burying the stinking mess of the rest like the cancerous waste it was/is? That option wasn't on the table, because there was no legal basis for it, and because, in the general panic, it simply didn't occur to anyone to pass that law. Nor was there an opportunity to examine them coolly, calmly, and come up with a best case scenario.

This law seeks to remedy this lack.

No company needs to puts themselves at such risk that they might be taken over by the government. It is an active choice by the CEO and Board to decide what levels of risk to take on. Should they make the decision to roll the dice and lose, the public has an available remedy that goes beyond the mandate that stupid, risk-prone companies will be propped up no matter how damn foolish they are.

They've had the comfort of being "too big to fail" for far too long. Let them understand that they are accountable for their actions.

Breakfast for Two..

I haven't been able to reestablish a full-on, cooking-for-Jake agenda as I have in the past, because I'm still struggling to find sources for affordable, pasture-raised meat to share with him.

The compromise is simple... I give him high quality, free-choice kibble, and one cooked meal a day, typically in the morning. If I'm feeding meat I typically "stretch" it with an equal portion of beans, which he likes and seems to digest well. This morning we were both delighted by our breakfast, which was identical except for proportions and some extra fat, brewers yeast and calcium in his. We each had a "fried" (really steamed) egg, with 2 side dishes for me, and things dumped together for him.

I bought some sample bulk sausage from Crane Dance Farm at the Fulton Street farmers market last weekend, and decided to try the breakfast sausage. One of the hubbard squashes I've stored was scarred and started to "go." So I trimmed away the bad bits, cut half of it into dice, and dumped it on top of 1/3 pound of browned sausage crumbles. To that I added a diced apple, some cider to steam it all, and drizzled a little honey over the top. Greens were also from the farmers market... a gorgous bag full of collards, mustard and turnip greens. I dropped a small leaf while cutting them up; Jake grabbed it and made off like a bandit to the living room, where he ate it in peace. The party line is that dogs can't digest uncooked greens, but all dogs are drawn to them. If I had to guess, there are enzymes in the leaves they sometimes crave, but that's speculation. In general, I trust his judgement: if it's food and he seems to crave it, it's ok with me. (Disclaimer: with the usual exceptions of chocolate, raisons, etc. etc.)

The greens were cooked for about 10 minutes in a little olive oil and then steamed.

Both of us cleaned our plates - but I noticed that he was especially fond of the squash/apple/sausage combination!

Odd

When I let Jake out this morning I discovered that the two chairs on the front porch were no longer flanking the front window, but pushed into a disheveled clump in front of the front door.

My rubbermade garbage can, however, stands tall and lonely at the end of the drive where I forgot it last night. If there was wind, it would surely have tumbled over.

The downside of a well-built house is that I don't hear anything outside unless a window is open, and when it's cold (as it was last night) they're shut.

Making Excuses

So easy to make excuses for a lack of discipline!

.... as soon as this is done... in a minute... well I really must eat first... I'm too sleepy now, after a nap I will... oh, but there's less than an hour before I must leave the house, so no time now... let me just finish this first and I will....

This must change.

There is a difference between the reason one makes large changes and the things one does to support those changes. I am here first and specifically because I was guided here. I know that it is here - if I engage properly - that my destiny will unfold. Getting caught up in the swirl of surrounding details is NOT "engaging."

We create our surroundings, we draw people and entities to us based on what we see and believe is there. Some believe we dance our world into existence.

Can any thinking person really doubt that a thousand worlds exist side-by-side, and our entry to any one of them is determined by our own habitual thought/behavior patterns? In other words, by our expectations? What will I find here? At a mundane level, culture, environmentalists, religious reactionarys, monsanto farmers and folks staring at American Idol in a beer-soaked haze are all here. Just as in this tangible world I must find my way into the community of my preference, I must also find my way into the caring presence of the compassionate spirits. But in order to do so I must spend as much effort courting them and learning their ways as I do navigating the network threads of the more mundane world. Relationship is key in all worlds. And that is precisely what I have not been doing.

Today I start dancing.

Cinnamon and Cider Oatmeal!

Yep. Made my oatmeal with cider instead of water today, and mixed in 1/4 t of cinnamon.

Major yumm, especially with a dollup of yogurt and some raw honey drizzled on top.

I probably should take this to it's logical extension and make oatmeal cookies this way... and throw in some grated apple.

New Blog

I expected that with this new life I was going to want to open a new blog, and I am. I will continue this one for now, but will be opening a new one specifically to focus on my experiences with what Joel Salatin calls "Beyond Organic" farming, and on the food that comes from mine and my neighbor's efforts. I will also post an interview once a month or once a week or on some regular schedule - with a SW Michigan farmer who is walking the talk.

It's probably a month or so away - right now I'm struggling to find a good name.

Any suggestions? The name of my farm is "Handful of Seeds Farm."

On this blog I'll return to my original intentions to look at the more lyrical, interior side of life...

If anyone has a suggestion, I'd love to hear it!

Hot Mocha Sunday

OK, it isn't really terribly cold out. So it isn't quite about snuggling up against old man winter. Instead, I woke at my usual 6:30-ish, did some chores, and at 10:00 found myself outside, laying cardboard on the ground. I have a lot of cardboard right now, having saved my packing boxes, and worms adore cardboard.

I didn't really know how much it would take... so I estimated, laying out a long rectangle in a weedy, festering bit of the yard, and another squat fat rectangle nearby, where the grass is most lush.

Soon my neighbor was here, with the 40 strawbales I'd bought from him. On the long rectangle we laid out an outer wall of straw two bales high and two wide. On the squat rectangle we simply covered as much of it as we could with the leftovers in a single row.

The long rectangle is now officially 3 compost bins, to be filled and then closed off from the next, one at a time. Straw bales are staged at the appropriate places along the wall, ready to be pulled down and set in place. The squat rectangle will be part of next years' winter garden, and the purpose of the cardboard and straw is to kill off the sod whilst I'm ignoring it.

While it's true that the two men who brought the straw toted 2 bales each to my 1, it's also a fact that this aging city girl dove in and toted bales too. Now, looking out the window at the cosy collection of bales I lift a silent, smiling, hot mocha toast to them... this marked the first active step towards working this farm.

Compost is key in my book, and takes a couple of years to make well. So getting a running start on this project is essential. To that end I've talked with some restaurants and coffee houses who've said they'll save their compost-ables for me. I figure if I establish a regular route this winter and just keep layering it up, by spring thaw I'll have a couple of piles ready to start cooking.

Laughing-

This morning found myself singing a nonsense song....


"There's a light at the end of the tunnel, and a tunnel at the end of the light..."


Then I listened to myself and burst out laughing. Not nonsense at all...

Morning Frost

Today the ground is again white with frost. It looks like our last flirtation with summer is at an end.

In preparation for a house guest later this week, I got my "meditation room" cleaned out and made comfortable. (Hope I find my camera cables soon!) Because the sofa bed is in this room, it automatically doubles as the guest room. Art graces the walls, the feather mattress is folded inside the sofa bed ready to welcome a guest. One bookcase, containing mostly my shamanic and spiritual books, is set up, along with small lamps, a bedside table and a chair.

It's still pretty improvisational: a corner "table" is simply a box (too heavy for me to move on my own) covered with a pretty blue shawl. Another "table" under the window is a very large, bright red suitcase topped by a tray.

Jake likes this room now, and so do I. He chose to lead me in here this morning so he could curl up on a red wool blanket on the sofa.

Bit by bit this house is beginning to look like a home.

Spinning Straw into Gold...

Checked out Craig's list and found straw bales nearby for $2.00/each. Perfect. I want straw bales to form the walls of compost bins. Sent a note asking if they'd deliver them if I bought 30 or 40. Note back... yes, if you buy 40.

Just off the phone, and the straw bale guy did chickens on pasture this last year and will sell me some. He used a local mobile processor and they were processed right there on the farm - and the processor complimented him on them "looking good." Better, this was his first year doing chickens, his second on the farm, and it's his first farm. Like me, he was first captured by Joel Salatin's book, then spent a year researching. This is great for me... really nice to meet another local that's a newbie and learning. While it would be great to meet someone that's been doing it for years, sometimes its easier to compare notes with someone who is at about the same level. Plus he's always going to need help (he works full time and has 3 kids under 8) and is nearby... helping is a wonderful way for me to learn stuff, and being two steps behind, there's probably plenty to learn. Anyway, given any two people, skills/talents - and the research we've done - are bound to lie in different directions, so exchanging info is a real opportunity.

In our short conversation he also offered to include my chickens for next year in his order so we get a better bulk discount ---- and ---- he's making new chicken tractors this winter. I'm going to offer to help so I can learn how... building a chicken tractor this winter is high on my to-do list.

What a fabulous find! When I told him why I need the straw bales he was enthusiastic... I've been asking around at coffee houses and small restaurants, and have found several who would be happy to save their veggie scraps/coffee grounds for compost. I figure that if I get some bins, label them with my name and set up a regular route I may be able to have a couple of big piles all ready to start heating up when spring hits.

Steve Solomon (the entrepreneur who started Territorial Seeds) writes that coffee grounds are almost as good as manure. I may not be able to find manure this year, but I KNOW I can find coffee grounds.

I didn't expect to be able to get anything moving this year, but it looks like I underestimated things!

Frost is on the ground this morning, and holding past first light. The patterns where it has melted near the east side of the barn and house demonstrate the heat difference between flat/sunken ground, and the slightly raised ground that the buildings are on.

It occurred to me yesterday that the sunken/boggy area in back might be a good opportunity to put in some small beds of cranberries. With that notion I did some research... I'll buy a few plants in the spring and see if I can make them happy. I adore cranberries, and organic cranberries are both hard to find and expensive. Seems that there has been a lot of research at the state level in an attempt to encourage conventional cranberry production; in general, they should grow well here. This year and last there were several articles locally pushing cultivation. The big issue is that there is a substantial investment in infrastructure if raised traditionally.... primarily in irrigation and creating shallow dikes. Seems to me that the earth architecture that Nadir Khalili said was effective for building retaining walls to prevent flooding might well work here. The requirement is shallow enough that a row or two of bags might do the trick... which means I can probably handle it. Traditionally the cranberry blogs are flooded to protect them from freezing. This requires a lot of management if your area is prone to warming spells. But flooding can be replaced by heavy mulching for frost protection, and that returns winter to a time of rest.

Turns out I might be able to do a half acre of cranberries without huge investment: I figure 4-6 years to production. 1-2 years to plant a few to test frost protection, with building the "real" bed happening summer year 2, and planting 1-year plants in year 3. They're 3 years to mature, and a well-kept bed lasts 75 - 200 years. It could be a small but steady cash crop through my retirement if it works well. It's worth exploring.

The Joys of Soup

I forget, sometimes, how much I love soup. When I caught cold last week the truth that there was no chicken stock in my freezer added to my grumpiness. Then I remembered, with a flash of anticipation like a shiver, the unexpected pleasure of Provencal garlic soup. For mothers in the south of France, Garlic Soup is the same cure all as the more familiar chicken soup. Despite the large quantities of garlic used (4 large cloves per quart) the slow, 20-40 minute cooking mellows it until there is no bite, just a wonderful glowing flavor.

Then I remembered I had no garlic.

A house with neither chicken stock nor garlic is surely not a home.

Yesterday I chased down a local health food grocer, and bought organic garlic and celery. This morning was chilly - rather delightfully chilly, for it gave me an excuse to wear the lovely black/white/red plaid shirt I received yesterday from my friend in Paris (thank you, L!) And once my belly became a bit empty after my oatmeal breakfast, my mind started in again, whispering "SOUP! Garlic soup!

So.... that's the way it started. It didn't really end that way of course, since I'm congenitally incapable of following a recipe. So after the garlic, and the fresh sprigs of rosemary, thyme and parsley went into the water, I tossed in a handful of lentils, some chopped celery, some diced winter squash and crumbled in the leftover polenta.

YUMMMMMM........

LEDs as Growlights...

Has anyone used them? Want to share your experience? I have an area in my mud room that I can use to grow some salad greens on a 3-shelf unit 48" long. There isn't enough light (I think) to really pull it off, so I need to use a Grow Light for a few hours a day to supplement it.

Any thoughts?

Holes in the Food Chain

I was repeatedly asked, in the months leading up to my move, what I was going to raise on my new farm.

Each time I shrugged "Don't know yet."

The issue, as I saw it, was layered.

#1: I (still) don't know what crops my land will best grow

#2: I don't know what the market opportunities are.

I'm beginning to understand #2 from the perspective of late fall, and one probable answer is a loud "FRESH GREENS!"

As Eliot Coleman has publicly (and commercially) demonstrated in his Maine garden, lots of greens can be harvested throughout most of the winter with a shift to traditional European winter crops and unheated greenhouses with row covers inside. I had suspected that this might be an open market nitch here, and I see that it definitely IS.

Another obvious crop that appears to be missing are the gourmet mushrooms... particularly oyster, shiitake and maitake. (Reishi are missing too, but that market is more medicinal than gourmet.)

The raw milk venture I've bought a "share" in allows customers to cross-market their products at the pickup spots, and they deliver in 4 places around the area weekly. That rarified group of folks willing to step outside of "normal" in order to find raw milk may well be good potential customers of fresh local salad greens and gourmet mushrooms. It's an interesting way to make a small start and test the opportunities.

In SF a local grower supplied markets with gorgeous watercress grown hydroponically and delivered to the produce cases in little plastic trays of water cups... customers literally pull the watercress from the water and place it in their bag. VERY fresh!! And irresistibly gorgeous. Something similar might work well here at a more advanced stage of my market experiments, and allow me to make a bi-weekly delivery to the only two health-food groceries I've found locally.

I hadn't intended to focus on this question so soon, but my own needs for fresh food have accelerated the process.

Right now I'm struggling to put together compost bins/piles before the winter sets in. I need a way to contain the materials to prevent them from blowing away, being dug up by critters, having the nutrients leech away. The best way I've seen to do this is with straw bales. Set in a three-sided square/rectangle and covered with a tarp, they protect the content and contain the nutrients. The bales themselves are added to the compost as they break down and carbon is needed.

I'm at a disadvantage: right now there's no way I can heft a straw bale, much less several. Am looking for a nearby source that is willing to deliver. Wish me luck!

Having asked around at the restaurants I frequented whilst waiting to accumulate a complement of kitchen appliances, I've found several that are willing to give me veggie scraps and spent coffee grounds, and have found a local vermiculture source (worms! red wigglers!). I kept my "worm farm" (emptied for the move) and have a place to put it in my mud room where the temp should stay acceptable through the winter. Worst case, with the worm setup I'll have a way to compost my own veggie clippings and harvest a few handfuls of excellent compost by spring.

But I'm gonna' try for both. The straw bale set up will supply me with compost in late 2010, and in 2011, while the worm farm will give me small amounts of high-quality product by spring.

Warm, sunny day...

Having opened the windows to exorcise the stuffy smells of cooking and a closed house, I'm now sitting on the porch with my laptop, Jake curled beneath my chair, enjoying the sunshine and cool breeze. Next door I follow the steady progress of a green machine harvesting the corn. This kind of corn, I'm told, waits for the farmer. It can even be harvested from a snowy field. But today that farmer is probably enjoying the weather as much as I am, and taking advantage of it to make a day's work more pleasant.

Further to the north, beyond the corn field, sits a long fringe of woods. Repeated, measured gunshots sound from there - too measured to be hunters, must be target practice. It makes me vaguely uncomfortable, and glad I don't have to over-rule Jake's wishes to get him to sit here quietly with me.

I've unpacked part of my office and arranged it, sorted out the plastic garbage from the wood in a dump spot behind the barn, and chosen a spot there for my compost pile. Hopefully I'll find someone willing to deliver a few bails of straw to enclose the edges of the pile. I've found a few local restaurants willing to save some compostable veggies for me, so I can accumulate a decent amount of materials through the winter - if I can set up a proper "bin". I've no interest in a dissheveled pile of soft materials that don't have enough carbon to mix with them, and no way harvesting any carbon materials myself. I'm too late in the season. Even the leaves have been carted away...

Red Mornings

Unlike the sunrises in the sailor's warning, red mornings here seem to denote calm. The last few days have been heralded by deep, brilliant red lashings of clouds, and the weather has remained calm. Cold, but calm.

Today is warmer. It got up into the low 50's yesterday, and this morning (8:00 AM) it's only 48, with a prediction of it heading up to the mid 60's. Shirt sleeve weather for this Californian!

Yesterday was momentous, despite my sniffles and sneezes. My BIL stopped over with two, remachined hand-made bolts that belong to my dining room table. With the legs bolted tightly in place it no longer needed to lie on it's back like a disabled beetle: we were able to turn it over, tuck chairs around it, and voila! I have a functioning kitchen! We'd barely finished before I glanced out the window and saw my Honda Hybrid rolling merrily down the drive, with the carrier parked out on the road. The coup de grace was - garbage. Here, providing garbage service is an entrepreneurial affair. In SF we obediently used the service provider that contracted with the city: rules were followed and enforced by the city, rates set in contact with the city. End of story. Here, there are competing providers who have (apparently) no office staff, and return calls at the end of their hauling day. So I finally connected with Magic, which provides service to my BIL, and as of next Tues. I'll be on their route. Garbage cans, however, are separate... so another trip to the hardware store and I got a big can on wheels that will do the trick. And the garbage guy said he knew the BIL's family, so I explained that I'm the kid's mother's sister, not the sister of the BIL's current wife, and low and behold, he remembers my sister, though she's now passed for 20 years....

Finally, a trip into town and to the regional Wal-Mart wanna' be, Meijers, and I scored some basic veggies - though neither local nor organic. Collards, kale, spinach, more cilantro (you can never have too much cilantro, even off-season!). So this morning I have collards simmering on the stove with a couple of rashers of diced bacon. Soon it will accompany reheated black beans and polenta, and an egg, for this mornings version of a hearty breakfast.

Poor Jake has been getting food as dull as mine lately: he's ended up on kibble. Despite the brand and the clean contents, kibble is ultra-processed and, like cereal or crackers, doesn't have the nutritional content in it's finished form that you would calculate from the ingredients. I consider it a poor second to feeding him "real" food. Yesterday as I fixed my breakfast he was drooling as he sat at my feet and gently whined. So, yeah, when I'd finished my breakfast I broke an egg into the skillet, added some beans, cilantro and tomato, and cooked it up for him. He likes a hot breakfast as much as I do, and I'm sure it makes his tummy as happy as it does mine. He sure seemed contented when he'd finished polishing his bowl!

Home Means Comfort Food, Right?

The most difficult part of the move for this foodie was the lack of simple, healthy, tasty food. Excellent food doesn't need to be complicated, but it must start with excellent ingredients. Excellent ingredients don't have to be expensive, but they must be well grown, and not have the various metallic and chemical overtone flavors that are all too common in our food supply.

Veggies were - and still are - very difficult to find. They aren't common on menus in this region, unless you go to more expensive restaurants. In grocery stores I'm shocked to see that they are still mostly shipped in, and not very fresh. Organic? Please! There are hardly any...

So among the heaps and heaps of apples I find only a few with the coveted organic label, and those, alas, are shipped in. If I didn't already know that MSU has done excellent work with local organic apples I would despair.

At the stove - which is where the rubber hits the road for me - I am slowly making the foods that matter to me. Yesterday I cooked a pot of black beans, freezing some. This morning I'm fixing a batch of polenta, which will re-heat through several meals. I found some cilantro, a few hot peppers and tomatillos, an avocado. Together they'll make a nice salad to garnish beans, polenta and an egg.

I've bought just a dozen eggs so far, organic, pastured, and shipped in from Indiana. They are amazing. The darkest orange yolks imaginable, large and with the full flavor characteristic of "real" eggs.

I'm using the lazy approach to the polenta... it's in the oven with an "excessive" amount of water, cooking very slowly. (water more than 4 to 1) It will only need stirring 2-3 times, and will be ready in about 2 hours. I'm looking forward to this hearty breakfast of mine, and when it's ready I will be too!

Apple Pie and Hot Plate Rice...

Neighbors came to visit last night, bringing me a homemade apple pie and a big bag of winter squash from their garden. I was delighted - and a little amazed.

Toto, we're not in (Kansas) San Francisco any more..... (why don't I have a doo-dad on my dashboard that allows me to do cross-outs?)

Apple pie for breakfast, yummmm!!!

Cooked some chicken on my induction hot plate last night. Most of it ended up in the fridge when the neighbors arrived, so today decided to make some rice on the hot plate and broccoli in the microwave. Hot plate rice didn't work so well, first I didn't have it set high enough and then left it too long and it browned on bottom. Still, with the reheated chicken it was a real meal, and delightful for just that reason!!

Freezer will be delivered shortly... it's big enough to hold a body! I suppose that's good, considering the size of cows and pigs etc. Will be nice to begin stocking it. Stove... a used Maytag Gemini (electric) will be delivered in the AM.

Have found a source for raw milk and dutifully purchased a share of a cow, entitling me to further pay for it's "upkeep" monthly, which will in turn entitle me to receive a gallon of milk weekly from "my share of the cow." I pick up my first gallon tomorrow, then switch to a different pickup location on Mondays. It's an absurd work-around for ridiculous laws designed to protect big ag - NOT the consumer. My first tiny step in becoming a clean food militant was to also order a bumper sticker from them advocating raw milk. Seems so silly. I'm not a bumper sticker sort of person at all. But hopefully it will spur an occasional conversation.

grey mornings...

I sleep soundest in a cool room, and towards morning my metabolism begins to rev and heat so I wake up too warm... yet reluctant to bounce out of bed and shiver through the necessary steps of turning up the heat, dressing, hurrying towards an equilibrium between the nip in the air and my layers of clothing. Jake rolls over onto his back and luxuriates in his early morning belly rub, then we descend the stairs to the main floor. He hesitates as I open the door at the bottom of the stairs, stretching his nose to sniff cautiously. Stiff legged, nose extended, he carefully explores to be sure we haven't been invaded during the night.

I'm focused on different invaders. I flip on the outside lights and strain against the darkness in the restless check for critters. Not just any critters either, coyotes. And as carefully as I stare into the shadows, I know I'm unlikely to see them even if they are there.

So Jake's leash is attached to his collar, I stumble about to find my shoes and coat, and I accompany him out into the front yard to do his morning business.

I've only heard them twice - in one night, the second night we slept here. The wild chorus rang jubilant in the night, coming both times from the woods to the north east, about a mile away. A mile is devoured in a matter of minutes by the effortless trot of a coyote. My neighbor to the SE tells me there are two dens in his woods around the corner... and I know there are two dens in my woods, just 6 miles away.

In San Francisco, urban coyotes were tagged and tracked moving effortlessly through the city for nearly 20 miles over the course of a day, starting in Golden Gate park and ending up 2o miles to the south, near the ocean. I won't underestimate the ability of these rural coyotes to cover distance quickly, nor will I underestimate Jake's vulnerability.

Jake is getting used to this new rule that mandates a leash from the grey light of dusk through the first light of dawn.

Without it, I told him his new name would be Snack.

prioritizing..

Doing things in the most efficient/effective order is key to production in any system, and it's no different for this move.

My challenge is trying to figure out the critical path issues that might interrupt progress between now and next spring.

My mudroom is an excellent place to start seeds... possibly even grow some salad veggies if I plan properly and use grow lights to supplement the light from the south and west facing windows.

All local garden stores are closed for the winter here, so that mandates ordering everything online. I don't have anything... no compost, no potting soil, so expense means that I won't be doing much this winter - but want to do some.

I schlepped hardy bamboo with me on my cross-country car trip... but need to move them from 5 to 15 gallon pots to insure that they're in good shape to plant next spring. (They're hardy to 30 below, but need a chance to get their roots settled first, and a good 5 inches of mulch - neither of which there is time to provide this fall.) I've found 'grow bags' at Peaceful Valley Farm Supply - they're light, fold up and so are easy to ship. Maybe I can find a bale of straw to pack around the outside of their current root structure, and use that to line the grow bag and protect them....

There is a perfect corner for my worm farm in the corner of my mudroom, and I have lots of newsprint from packing that I can shred for bedding. I can find ample veggie scraps from local restaurants to give them (I've been asking). I'm thinking that if I can keep the worms warm enough, they'll produce at least some compost... and hopefully lots of eggs... by spring.

The best ground - evaluating by the beautiful green grass - is right in front of the side doors of my barn. Looks like a good place to start my chicken tractor next spring...and maybe a good place to put my greenhouse next fall. If there's a way to attach it right to the barn it would be really convenient to access it/manage it.

I'm thinking getting the worms ordered and set up, and finding a bale of straw are high priority right now. Sure wish I'd had time to start some compost cooking this year.

Connecting

Spent too much time online yesterday, much of it shopping consumer reports and other sites to figure out what kind of electric range and freezer to buy, and checking local spots to see if they carry my preferred brands. It eats up an enormous amount of time.... but less than driving to and fro, and permits a more considered choice of brands without the influence of an individual store.

But.... amongst all of that....

I searched for and found several local farms selling pastured meats. and sent them emails asking for info.

I searched for and found a local drumming circle (and asked for and received an invitation to participate). (Actually, I found a second circle this AM and have sent a request to them as well.)

I located a local group that possibly has similar land-based spiritual values, and marked my calendar for their next orientation. I'm not interested in living in their community, but hope to find like-minded friends.

It was heart-lifting to find connections - even if only on line right now - that are right here in this community and that share my interests.

Rain, lots of rain....

The hot water leak was mended this morning and I'm waiting for the tank to fill - is it possible? Will I actually be able to wash kitchen shelves, dishes today? And myself, too... a real shower without having to go and visit a relative to get one. And yesterday, at last, I got propane for heat!

At last the basics are beginning to fall together, and it doesn't feel quite so much like camping.

Contentedly, I'm eating an apple with toast and peanut butter.

Contentedly because this is the first "sort-of" meal I've been able to eat in my new home, and I'm really sick of restaurants and pizzas! I even have some eggs.... nice, pasture-raised eggs, filled with good cholesterol, protein and other nutritional goodies. They don't need the refrigerator that hasn't been delivered yet...

I'd thought peanut butter would be easy - but it took multiple grocery stops before I made the trek to the health food co-op and scored a jar that didn't have sugar or other things added. Peanuts and salt, why is that so difficult? The first loaf of bread molded in it's packaging before I found anything to eat it with. Tuna was a no-go since I still haven't found my can opener.

The house is good, Jake is happy here and runs in happy circles around the house, tongue lolling, panting smiles - "look, mom - I can run all the way around! No fences!"

I've met a few neighbors (the guy that filled my propane tank lives around the corner, the woman who works at the front desk at the telephone company lives "next door.")

Mired in the endless number of details and shopping (fridge, washer/dryer, stove, freezer, weird bits of hardware, propane/monoxide detectors, etc etc. etc.) I'm running hard and end most days exhausted. It's hard to sit still when there is a box sitting nearby that could be unpacked... and there always is.

I WANT TO PAINT! But first I want to feel like these other details are smoothed away, and things that must be ordered, are. Everything has a time-line, the painting will be done as soon as it's done, it doesn't require lead time like most stuff does. So I put it off, day by day, but do see order emerging from chaos. Haven't found my cables yet, so can't upload photos.

Soon.

Last Leg

It's been a long haul, and exhausting. Mostly, of course, because of choices I made or forgot to make. Still... it's nearly over. Only a half day of driving ahead of us before we arrive at my new home. The moving truck is a few days behind... which is the way I wanted it. We moved across the country fast enough without worrying that they'd beat us there and I'd be subject to substantial fees for not being "available."

The trip was a lesson, as all days in life can be. I left a number of outworn attitudes behind me along the way and - very importantly - shed many of my tendencies to believe in others' worries. I started this process in full confidence that the cross country trip was the least of my worries. Little by little I let others instill their worries in me. Fears that I was somehow underestimating the trip and the kayaks would be a problem in the wind was a big one that others threw at me. I was shaken enough that I delayed leaving to give time to go to an old favorite "haunt" (and one of the best canoe and kayak shops ANYWHERE) - California Canoe and Kayak (CCK) - to ask advice. I was told that the boats on tight, not going anywhere..... I bought a cockpit cover for my Looksha IV - because others had worries it would be a problem when we ran into a storm. (And uhmm... kayaks are made for water, you know? But did I want to defend that attitude while struggling to bring one down from the top of the car and dump it? NO.... of course ....The weather was clear.)

It was a lovely excuse to stop, though. The owners, Keith and Tami, were both there. Also working that day was JT, another boater who taught me a lot, and another friend.... It was great to get goodbye hugs, wish everyone well and invite them to visit.

No, the wind going through the mountains wasn't any big deal. The wind on the plains was worse, but still not particularly troublesome.

I've traveled... mostly alone... since I was 20. I don't know why I allowed myself to get weirded out this trip, but I did. Everything went completely smoothly....

and a new adventure awaits.

Waiving your life away...

On route (yep, from SF to the farm at last) and detoured to see the Grand Canyon from the rim. It was dark when we arrived, found the pet-friendly hotel that was ok w/ Jake, checked in.

I've never seen so many waivers - completely absurd. If I hadn't already paid, I'd have gone to pet-friendly Holiday Express next door.

It wasn't just that I am liable for damage Jake causes.... I know that, no problem. And it wasn't just that they promise to throw us out if he barks, cautions us that it is against rules to leave him alone in the room.... all of that is standard. But to throw in that I'm liable for financial damages from other guests who may be disturbed? Who is liable for the car horn outside my door that went off twice during the night? Who is liable for an all-night party that keeps us from sleeping?

You can bet it isn't the Red Feather Inn. After all, I even had to sign a waiver that said if one of their maintenance or cleaning staff left the door open while I had stuff inside and it was stolen... that it isn't their fault.

Highly Recommended? Absolutely.... I highly recommend that if you are at Grand Canyon Village you stay elsewhere. Slightly shabby, no extras, no reason to be there at all.

Sheesh.

Masked adventure

Last weekend attended a mask-making workshop given by Kaleo and Elise Ching. (Check out the gallery, it's wonderful.)

AMAZING FUN.

"I am the Seeker Who Looks Within"

From age 7 to 24, I did theater; I've worked with masks but never made one. The workshop taught us to construct plaster-cast masks using gauze plaster strips. Not difficult, as it turned out, but a tad claustrophobic.

We donned our grubbies and covered ourselves with plastic bags, smeared oil of olay on our faces and vaselined our eyes and mouths to become mask givers. The young mask maker working on me was - tentative. And there was something about having someone constantly moving inside my energy field while barely touching me that drove me over the edge. When she used both hands to form the nostrils... (which felt like they could be covered/plugged at any moment) I wound up. Then she put the gauze over my mouth and just the idea that my eyes would soon be covered did it for me.... I called for the mask to come off, and it was quickly pulled away. Later I had an opportunity to work with someone who worked gently but firmly, smoothing the gauze in place with a massaging motion, and I stayed calm. So now I have a second, more "traditional" shell to work with as well.

But secretly I think that it happened so I could have this glorious, twisted, half-formed shell to work with. There is a lot more work on it I plan to do, but the race to move is finally on. I expect to be out sometime the week of the 12th, and there's a lot to do.

I can finish this mask, and do the other one, when I settle in at my new home.

The substance of Things Not Seen

Want to see what's happening in seeing sound?

Evan Grant - Cymatics - Ted Talks -

AMAZING FUN.

I'm following weblinks right and left this morning, charmed by Alison Lewis and the many links she shares.

You see, I've always been kind'a "crafty." But what I want to do is have walls* of moving images and sounds, and I never had a clue how to get there.

Now I do.

*And faux walls. Light on gauze is one of the oldest stage tricks for creating a wall. Why can't I do that with windows so I get privacy and fun at the same time? Just maybe I can.

The Soul of a Tree

With chagrin I remember my impatience when reading posts where the soul was mentioned. Not having a clue about my own or any other, it sent me into paroxysms of frustration and a digging for definitions.... something Vincent will probably remember well.

On this path I've now listened to the small voices of many others, some of those "others" housed in an architecture that would have many humans tearing their hair out in frustration at my definitions.

So balance is restored; for each of those I once shrugged off, there are now many who will shrug me off.

One of the things that has surprised me is the wisdom of plants. No, not their ability to *blindly* pick a spot and transform minerals into usable nutrients. When I use the word wisdom here, I mean precisely those sorts of grandmotherly advice that we think of as the exclusive province of humans. And I mean advice as a clear voice, not a vague hunch.

Some will purse their lips and wonder what meds I'm on, or should be on. Others will wish their imagination were as overactive.

To all I have a single suggestion: before you declare me insane, try it. The steps are easy, though the first relationship is the one that takes the most effort. When deciding if it is you or the tree talking, I have a simple test for you that will work well before you learn to feel it's energy. (Yes, and see it's aura, too!) Look for surprise.

First: Let go of any sense of false superiority you may hold. That is the hardest for folks in western cultures. If you want to learn, you can't address the tree with the arrogance of a king looking down at the 'little people.' Meet it as your equal, for it is.

Second: Find a plant that attracts you, and sit with it. Look at it carefully, find genuine reasons to admire it, and let your inner voice dwell on your admiration. Spend some time here. Would you chat with the first crank that sits beside you on a park bench, before you have some time to figure out if you trust them? No? Don't expect anything different.

Third: Say hello and introduce yourself. Go ahead, no human needs to know what you're doing. You don't need a voice for this, just let the words fill your mind.

Fourth: Ask a question. Thousands of years ago this was the standard routine for consulting the oracle, and it still works. It was later that the great oracles were enclosed with walls of stone and surrounded by priestesses and priests... in the beginning it was a just the voice of a stream in a glade, or a great tree in the forest.

Fifth: Quiet your mind, and listen. Be willing to meditate lightly on your question while holding yourself open to a response. If you start composing grocery lists, start over. Be patient. Allow yourself 15 or 20 minutes of time before you stomp away in defeat, but don't be checking your watch impatiently. Sit. Focus. Listen.

Sixth: If it doesn't work the first time, be prepared to try again at a time when your mind is quiet and your spirit open. If the same plant still attracts you, go there again. Take time to build the relationship.

Seventh: Show gratitude. The spirits owe you nothing, and if you look around you'll see how accustomed they must be to dealing with arrogance and lack of gratitude. Trees create the air we breathe and make water possible - plants create the life that cradles us. So - if you've received a teaching that you appreciate, don't be afraid to show your appreciation in return. In my arid climate, a gift of water is often well regarded. Traditionally - on this continent - cornmeal and tobacco smoke are often given. Water spirits like things as shiny and reflective as they are, this is the quiet truth behind the tradition of the wishing well spangled with coins. If you aren't sure what to do, ask! Ask how you may honor them...

There are many traditions that go to the water spirits (streams, wells, pools etc.), or rocks, or trees. Water spirits are a bit tricky, I'm told, so aren't the easiest place to start. I can't say. While I'm deeply drawn to water, I'm also deeply drawn to trees and have often found comfort in their presence. Right now, at this moment in my life, trees are more available to me and so it is to Tree Spirit that I've most often turned for learning. From trees I've received comfort, but also wisdom and surprise. As a beginner, I like surprise, because it is in surprise that I become most clear that it is not my own mind talking.

And that is my final advice to those who would try this. Don't discount advice that you already know - you may know it without wishing to heed it, and this doesn't prevent the tree from telling you what you already know. But because you are unsure, look for answers that surprise you, that catch you off-guard. Being surprised helps you fight the doubt that keeps you from hearing the voices around you.

drunk by the river Lethe...

First, a shy smile of thanks to those who missed me, and a shout-out to Vincent, whose shout snapped my reverie and reminded me to check the dates and note - yes, it's been a long time.
Also - I seem to have lost my camera. These 2 photos were taken the first week of August - they are the best I can share right now of the work on my house.

There was no intent to take a break from blogging. Having plunked away at the bloggers conceits since 2004, I am not accustomed to straying, staying away. And yet, and yet...

I'm also not accustomed to whiling away hours in mystical pursuits, but - life, and people, change. A nod to the muses that have captivated my attention.

Lethe promises not only forgetfulness, but also death. Death-as-forgetfulness is sweet; I soaked my feet in chill waters and my mind wandered. There are many deaths. There are the brutal physical deaths that rip our clinging fingers from the shroud - I'm old enough to have known too many of those.

The mystic says that there is another death, the death that inevitably accompanies transformation. Often we fix our hearts on change but aren't willing to undergo the real pattern deaths, the loss of the familiar, that this requires. We become stuck in limbo: our hearts calling for change yet clinging to the memory of the past, never again setting foot on either path, becoming bitter at the *impossibility* of transformation.

Yet transformation is not impossible, only difficult. And difficult tasks are the province of becoming, they are the path of challenge. Becoming adult, becoming wise, becoming new, becoming dead. Becoming requires that one relinquish, give up, give away, abandon that which is being replaced. Vanished with the loss of the known, with all that is familiar, is that which familiarity cloaks in the illusion of "safe." Since nothing really IS permanent, and therefore nothing is safe, this action resembles clinging to a leaking life raft rather than attempting a difficult swim.

To become fully oneself means letting go of the illusion of rescuers coming to change things comfortably, easily: it means owning the battle of change, of learning to swim through the storm.

But successful storm swimmers don't suddenly leap from the boat at the approach of thunder! Instead they practice in protected waters, perfecting their strokes, learning to grok the storm and climb inside of it, learn to understand it's inner emotions and - literally - learn to know which way the wind will blow.

And so, setting aside my usual habits, I've been learning to be a storm swimmer. Personal routines - such as a once loved ritual of a drink or three sometime after 7:00 PM each night - have fallen away. I've even lost a few pounds somewhere: hard to see, on my ample frame, but sliding into a smaller pair of jeans tells the story. Sometime each day I can be found in comfortable communion with my trees, at another time I am listening to the drums or chants that entrain the left and right hemisphere of the brain and make them work as one - while opening perceptions of worlds-not-usual. The mystic's realm.

So... in this long hiatus.... I've driven a leisurely 5 days up to Cortez Island in British Columbia, attended a 5 day workshop with Jill Purce that seems to have changed the very fiber of my being... and then another 5 days home; that second drive encompassing visits, learnings, and another powerful healing. I arrived home with hives over the upper half of my body - "DETOXING!" - one of my healers said with a snorting laugh - and a deep body-dizziness that left me sleeping and integrating my healings for another 10 days.

Today I began a 6-week, once a week workshop that promises to alter the very structure of my body at Esther Gokhale's Wellness Center in Palo Alto - the content of it can be seen in her book "8 steps to a Healthy Back." (Here is a great interview with her on youtube.) A friend who is a bit ahead of me is raving about the changes she's seen in her own, 65 year old body in the last three weeks - which puts her in the chorus of local doctors and physical therapists etc. that are raving about Gokhale. At the core is the conceit that we in the developed world are getting posture very wrong. Looking at the stats of back /foot/hip/knee problems worldwide, pain seems centered in the developed world. Gokhale's thesis is anthropological - we hurt because we're standing/walking/sitting and working wrong. Proper use of the body builds muscle naturally - thus changing our form to something a bit, well - primitive. One will understand by studying greek and roman statuary, photos of people from Indonesia, Burko Fasino. The vertebrae are stacked one on top of the other, the "S" curve spine is replaced by a much straighter one with a curve right at the very base... resulting in a bottom that is, well, behind us. Instead of tail tucked under. And a long, graceful neck.

I'm taking the class because my pending move will require me to move/walk/lift/work properly if I am to succeed. Also because my 30 year history of foot problems just may find some relief through her methods... the relief that I haven't gotten from repeated surgeries.

And so my transformation continues: spirit and body both enlisted, working towards change and to fit myself for the challenges I am embracing.

Some days...

Some days are just better than others...

Picture this...

One of my new, $40.00 chairs, with Jake kindly demonstrating how comfie it is.


This small herb garden (almost done) is right outside my back door, which is conveniently located at the pantry. This used to be the ugliest corner in the world. The white pipe at the top and side is for irrigation. When we're done my gardener will install a spray up at the top for the whole hill. Everyone here doesn't need much water. Except, of course, for the water plant in the calabash. Dirty water. Must change it when it's time to water.


same herb garden, but the photo taken through the window inside the living room. Yep, the bird bath is catty-wonkers. But there's more work to do here, so it'll be fixed later.

Thanks to the book, Gaia's Garden, for the idea to do a herb garden as a hill with a spiral of stones: vertical space is more interesting, plus you can fit in more plants. The stones, I learned as I put this together, are functional. They help stabilize the hill and the plants, and interrupt the water running down the sides. Once the roots take hold they'll stabilize the hill, the foliage will break the spray and slow the run-off from the sprinkler. Until that happens, the rocks help hold it all together. I also poked holes with the handle of my trowel on the uphill side of each plant. It brings the water down to the roots. Later the holes can be filled (if they don't collapse first) but in the meantime, it helps get everyone established.

a closeup of the Mother at the top of Herb Hill.


woo-hoo, I no longer have to keep my shade drawn to avoid seeing the World's Ugliest Corner!

Painter?

HIRED.

highly recommended, starts 7/29, expects it to take about a week and a half.

I'll have him start on the front: as soon as the front is done I can have the gardeners put in the bamboo foundation plantings.

I think I'd better go pick out some paint!

Ask and ye shall receive...

A couple of weeks ago, as my gardener was clearing away the invasion of weeds and returning my yard to nearly bare-bones status, I thought about the pair of redwood chairs I bought my first summer here, 12 years ago. Two women in a pickup pulled over while I was gardening, the younger one pointed to the load of redwood chairs in the back and asked if I wanted to buy one. Reflexively, I said no - then - "how much?" - then "ok, 2 and an end table." The chairs were $25.00/each, the table (as an add-on the the chairs) was another $10.00. Even 12 years ago that was amazingly cheap. At the time I couldn't really afford it, but reasoned that I couldn't afford not to, since much cheaper chairs would cost at least 2X as much.

Mom stayed in the drivers seat while she explained that she and her mom made them themselves. Fast and business-like, she unloaded almost at a run, while I went inside for money. The chairs were rough and unsanded but pleasing: sturdy despite being nailed together instead of being screwed, and until now they've been pretty solid. I noticed when I was moving them that they are no longer so sound, though still useful. Not bad for 12 years in sun and rain. I'd never seen her again, and occasionally, while balancing my iced tea on the broad arm, I wondered if she really did make them in her shed up there in Humboldt County, as she said, or if they were stolen. They were, after all, so very inexpensive.

Last week, working in the yard I wished that I could buy new ones, but I had no idea who she was, or where she lived. Anyway, after 12 years, what was the likelihood that she was still making them?

Today I heard feet on my front stairs, and nearly ignored the doorbell, expecting an evangelist and rehearsing mentally which excuse I'd use to close the door again, quickly but politely.

Instead, there was a still-young woman on my porch, asking if I wanted some redwood furniture that she'd made herself. Again, I said no and closed the door, but then went to window to look. Yep. A different pickup, and mom no longer at the wheel, but the same carefully interlaced stacks of chairs. I called out the window "How much?" then asked for 2.

I asked.... "have you done this for years? I bought chairs 12 years ago, when I bought this house: and now I'm leaving - new ones will make the yard look nicer for the sale. "

She smiled, nodded. "This house faces two streets, right? I remember. Last time I came to the back. My mom and I make them ourselves."

"You've changed the style. I like it." And at $40.00 /chair, I love the price.

Everything in it's own time...

Since my job ended I've been trying to let intuition (another word for spirit) guide me. I was already on the path of shamanic learning with scheduled classes and relieved that my learning wouldn't be interrupted by a too-quick return to work. I further amplified that with additional study because -- it seemed important to delve deeply in this work right now. I rationalized that I will never be so conveniently located again, within driving distance of so much, and so it makes sense to take advantage of my location while it lasted.

Anxiety periodically raised it's head, however, and whined that I am BEHIND SCHEDULE for my move, and really shouldn't dilly-dally longer. I watched the market continue to drop to new lows in May (the month I originally hoped to put mine on the market.) I worried about how low it might go, and how much margin I have before I'm really in trouble here!

With no fixed numbers for anything, it's hard to remain calm.

Finally this month I began to take hold and get the things done that must be in order to place the house on the market.

And finally yesterday I saw new hope in the housing market... both the number of sales and the value was up sharply in June. It is possible that the bottom is behind us.

Perhaps that is the hidden message in my sudden upswing in energy.... it is now time.

Mourning

There are losses we never get past. The death (cancer) of my older sister was one of those for me. It's 20 years this year, and I'm only really beginning to mourn her now.

It was a *bad* year for me: I miscarried, never to conceive again - and my mother was dying of cancer. Sandwiched in the middle of those two, shattering-and-could-not-allow-myself-to-let-go moments, my sister died.

Today, thinking of my impending move back to MI and realizing how it might have been for us to recover the closeness we had as children, I am finally lost in grief.

Time to Breathe

Report Card for the last 10 days.

1) Yard:
Completely cleaned out (10 pickup truck loads to the dump)
Planting plan designed for 5 areas. (Three to figure out)
Two car-loads of plants purchased
East side soaked for some initial planting (tonight)
Front soaked for additional planting (tonight)
New quick release thingys for hoses purchased

2) House:
Several attempts at matching/recreating the faux paint job in the dining room. Solution found
Wood putty for holes purchased.

3) Contractor for front porch selected, hired. He starts Monday.

Personal:
1) Added a 1 to 1 & 1/12 hour walk per day

Right or wrong, I made the decision that lots more people like the idea of having a garden than are brave enough to tackle creating one. So I stopped worrying about planting in a manner that is "not to the taste of the new owners" and made a full commitment to simply choosing wisely to make it look good and to be efficient in the spots chosen. And I'm really excited to see it taking shape!

I'm even planting a veggie garden for them. No, I'm not doing "exactly" the way I would have done it for myself, but I'm getting it established for them. Whoever "they" are.

This yard is too big, the slopes are too difficult; it's daunting to those who aren't gardeners. I suspect even many good gardeners would prefer to take on changing a garden than creating one from scratch. I wasn't afraid to tackle it (and the big projects to establish the "bones" were successful - a 12 foot long bay laurel hedge offering privacy, 5 large well-placed bushes, a short wall to terrace the front hill) but it's so difficult that I am very slow. And while slow was fine while I was living here, it's not so fine if I want to leave.

I found a great landscaper with a strong back at a good price, and the problems I struggled with are melting away. This weekend I realized again that no, I'm not strong/stable enough to dig even small holes while standing on the downward side of a steep slope without sliding and falling. So I skittered around on it, used a hoe to make a spot flat enough into the hill to balance a pot, and placed - but didn't plant - a dozen each Yarrow (mostly in shades of yellow and gold), Powis Castle Artemisia, and sage (in reds), all in 1-gallon pots. I've another dozen Powis Castle on order.... that will extend the row behind the roses in a second "scallop" around the small wall that wraps the hill.

But boy. I sure am glad that my farm is flat. I can dig a hole in flat ground. Sigh. I have to acknowledge that, now that I'm closer to 60 than to 50, hard work is ok -but risking a fall or hurting my back is not. Judicious caution will keep me in the game for the long haul.

And now? I have a long afternoon to relax, meditate, do some spiritual work. This evening I'll put in some more plants.

Dreams of secret gardens

I daydream about growing forts of sunflowers for my nieces' kids to play in; I dream of planting willow twigs fastened together in the form of chairs and benches, and think of the time to come when I will be able to sit in them.

In the meantime, instead of having my landscaper limb the "weed" tree up, as he suggested, we cut a secret path through the cascading limbs and blanketing leaves. There is room, on the far side, to create another garden room if someone has the energy and interest. My contribution will be only the path.

Too much is "cleaned out" and on open display; yards need room for the hidden and secret, where our hearts can learn to bloom freely.

Let the new owners limb it up if they choose: but I leave them the promise of secrets if they choose to indulge.