ETA: Diarist should have high tolerance for typos.
ETA: Diarist should have high tolerance for typos.
I'll be heading out soon. I suspect it's still a bit wet (and too early) to mow, but i will be lopping down Autumn Olive (until the end of my days). I don't have documentary proof, but the evidence of stripped soil suggests to me that much of this area was farmed to an extreme. I don't expect i'd find native plants like pawpaw or persimmon on the property because i think any source plants would be too far away for seeds to have been carried here by critters since the farming ended. Bird carried plants abound. Dogwood and poison ivy would be natives (sigh), the autumn olive and honeysuckle are not. So if i could use the forestry service's seedling program to get persimmons and crab apples going, develop my own paw paw plan, bring in chinquapins and hazelnuts, perhaps critters could then begin to plant and seed those and replace the autumn olive.
We drove through a nearby outrageous subdivision last night, brick and wrought iron entrance gates, massive houses.... I realized that the other houses near us are also rather large. Our modest place is indeed a cottage in comparison. I wonder about twenty years from now: will these acres be a natural oasis? Will the family that holds the land to our east for hunting keep it (and all their cursed autumn olive)?
--== ∞ ==--
I am close enough to Charlotte that i could be there. Other Quakers i know have stood in accompaniment in other protests about race: too far for me, i excuse myself. Now i'm not. I keep listening, dreading a bit the time i'd have to spend if i was called to go there. I still think i am called to this place and to the work i'll be doing outside today and time with family later today.
--== ∞ ==--
I did win a blue ribbon for my photography at the county fair -- it's kind of an odd feeling though, given the absence of competition. Two rows of shelves contained all the fair items. I think the greatest competition was in okra: six entries there. There were a lot of canning jars but they all seemed to be holding different things (and many ribbons) so i don't think there was much competition there either. I'll hope that i can enter pawpaws and persimmons, apples and figs some day.
I'm not sure whether to encourage my sister and her kids to come this year and compete next year.
The best thing that happened was watching the camel (named Cash, there to give rides) make eye contact with Christine and come give her a kiss. Christine, who always has a warm heart for critters, met the long lashed deep brown eyes of that camel and made a connection. I didn't fumble my camera up for a photo in time to catch an image -- i had sticky fingers from my cotton candy.
This effusion brought on by my doctor's advice that i take an anti-inflammatory for two weeks to deal with my plantar fasciitis. Just waking yesterday after taking one in the evening before was better (and amusing: because i had forgotten i had done something to improve the discomfort on waking and noticed how much better i felt). And then yesterday i felt like i was thriving. I wasn't noticeably hungry.
Just one data point and probably not enough of one to really conclude anything, but it was delightful. How did this energy get used? Breakfast out -- and a cup of coffee, which is also a possible explanation for vitality -- and some morning errands (which were unfortunately visited by elephants). Christine corralled them, and then we went to see my nephew W in his first soccer game of the season.
My sister and my niece were already off on the scout camping trip that W had passed over for the game so that his team would not forfeit. The sun came out and it was a bit warm. W was intense and fierce on the field compared to what i have seen of him in other context. I was shooting with my new camera set at 1/4000 a second (and not the most optimum focus mode), with a 18-200mm lens. I got to see more of his facial expressions than one would just from the sideline, and what an adult face. I think of him with a winsome smile, and here he was all concentration and focus and determination.
Home, where i promptly spent some hours in the yard burning vines collected over the past months. We still have piles and piles of brushy trees, but those we are saving for the chipper. This is the stuff that seems problematic for such a device, although the two inch diameter grape vines might not be that troublesome. Still, those are often connected to a bundle of messy vines and all went up in flames. I have a tangle of stuff that still sits back in the glade to begin my next fire pile.
I came in with enough time to cool off and join my dad out on the boat, but he called saying he was tired out from yard work. Christine was watching a documentary on Blue Note records and, after cleaning up, i relaxed with her and ate a late and light lunch.
The late afternoon and evening were spent processing the 500+ photos from the soccer game and studying plants available from http://www.usefulplants.org/. I am very very tempted to order some thornless upright blackberries. I also read up on the history of blueberries in North Carolina, trying to untangle what native berries are about compared to the many improved varieties. It seems that the truly native species Vaccinium pallidum would be reasonably suited for this gently sloping site, but i'm convinced that the "improved" types will not be an unreasonable choice for naturalization, either. I'm assuming the "rabbit eye" and "southern highbush" are genetically very close to the swamp and bog species that are native here, but have been selected for more flexibility in siting as well as berry size, etc.
All of this i hold off on until next fall. We still have a good bit to clear, and while i believe in a more dense siting of plants (and find the permiculture folks also have the same theory), i should like to be a bit more intentional. "The sooner we plant, the sooner there's fruit," cries out my inner six year old. Not if it's simply deer candy, though, so i need a plan.
What strikes me is a sensation in my mind that is hard to succinctly describe. Perhaps some of you remember learning spherical coordinates after solidly getting Cartesian coordinates? Here are two different ways of describing exactly the same thing, yet the one you choose can make certain relationships far more clear than the other. I remember the grind, the tearing and then the sudden insight learning this change in perspective.
Not unlike, perhaps, one's first trip to Faierie.
I am aware of the mental twist that occurs with changing frames: the frame change i find easy but hardest to articulate is the one of choice and agency when transitioning between justice and grace. (EG "It's your choice whether to be happy or not." "What, you're saying Jews in camps who weren't happy
failed to choose to be happy?"
Feeling inadequate to literary criticism and comparative lit this morning, i reflect on how both urban and rural places can be magically delightful or dreadful. How the millennia long transition from an agrarian-rural to urban species has tipped (2014: 54% of worlds population lived in cities). How stories of the rural to the urban and the urban to the rural entertain us.
That sensation of shifting frames tickles in my mind leaving me with the immortal words of Buckaroo Banzai says, "No matter where you go, there you are."
--== ∞ ==--
Speaking of going and being, i had a remarkable attack of what i call shyness yesterday. Remarkable enough to make me wonder if there's a more appropriate phobia label. Or not.
First visit with the new doctor. I'd come highly prepared with a printed list of concerns, medications, needs for various interventions and the status of others. Lovely doctor, pleasant chat, but by the time the appointment was closing i had an urgency to GET OUT. And i rushed out the door, back to the receptionist, the nurse calling after me "what about the immunizations?" As i impatiently waited for the receptionist to bill me, the grown up in my head started questioning the "Get out" -- "What about the recommendation for [this] and [that]?" "Gotta go." "What about -" "Gotta GO." I sat with this awareness of the inexplicable urgency to get home during the short drive to the house, and recognized it as very similar to my bolting from the social mingling at the end of Meeting for the past decade. When i told Christine about it when i got home, she asked, "Do you need to go back?" The answer to that was a grimace and a glare.
I've always called this my shyness, because i am not aware of general discussions about introversion touching on this sense of compulsion. (Revulsion, yes, compulsion, no.) On the other hand, all the shyness materials seem to assume some sort of lack of self confidence. I can easily imagine trying to justify the compulsion with excuses that imply a lack of self confidence, but that is not what's going on for me. It's almost like a timer goes of and my brain says, "DONE." And we are outta there.
Normally, this sense of DONE doesn't override other responsibilities or needs, so the remarkable thing about the bolt from the doctor's office was that i left things behind. (In particular, the immunizations...)
I wonder if working at home is lowering my tolerance.
--== ∞ ==--
Yesterday four wild turkeys in the yard around 3 pm, and a doe with two fawns around 5 pm. I actually took photos in the evening, albeit not very intentional ones.(Mainly using the 200mm end of the zoom for birds.)
Right now she seems to avoid the bedroom as it is Edward's kingdom (in which Luigi often intrudes). Greycie seems to rule the living room, and Luigi also hangs out in here. Poor Luigi, i wish he had a kingdom, but he's not much for territoriality. (I suppose being the third to join the family, and only just a year ago, he's still negotiating.) Luigi does visit me in the front room during the workday far more often than the others. The bed in there is covered with random linens as i sort out how to store them. You'd think a cat would be loving that, but no. None of the cats ever get on that bed of their own free will: Luigi is sleeping under it on a fold-up yoga mat.
--== ∞ ==--
Yesterday we followed through on our original plans to take my mother out to eat to celebrate her birthday, just my sister L and i. We went to a local farm-to-fork white table cloth restaurant. In keeping with the old mill stylings, the tables were actually reclaimed wood with no cloth. L & Mom had no idea that the place was there. We made gentle fun of my father's dining preference performance ("Oh, do you just have a bowl of rice and beans with onion on the side?") as we indulged in an very indulgent cheese plate, and then delighted through our entrees. Desert was an extra bergamot Earl Grey creme brulee shared amongst us, brought with a candle. Mom was overcome by the whole thing as we plied her with prosecco and pottery.
Mom has this slight edge of bewilderment about her that sorrows me, but she also delighted in seeing sister L and I together: her two adult daughters. We must do more of this.
I took Mom home (Dad had driven off in her car for some reason, and she hasn't gotten comfortable with the other car) and listened to her stream of consciousness worry. I wish i knew how to introduce her to some sort of inner peace.
--== ∞ ==--
It turns out the county may pay for 3/4 for a rain garden and water barrels, if the water barrels are over 250 gal. I made a rough estimate of how much water our roof collects in an average year: multiple 250 gal collectors wouldn't be silly. Given how much processing our well water requires, and a deep instilled instinct for self sufficiency, i am attracted to collecting the rain even sans drought conditions. We are planning a turf lawn for the "back yard" -- a fenced area behind the garage and to the west of the house. Hearing how frequently one should water to get turf established is an inspiration in finding alternative water sources.
Monday's holiday and low humidity allowed for delightful working in the yard. I found a downy rattlesnake plantain (a native terrestrial orchid) much closer to the house as i worked in the mess that is right off the deck. Mess? Yes. It seems the sellers must have had someone come do something quick about honeysuckle and jungle right next to the deck. There are some tall trees cut down leading away from the deck, and stilt grass now grows in the area cleared by the fallen crown. An area about 20 x 20 foot is mostly cleared with a few stunted and twisted saplings -- evidence of honeysuckle infestation.
On the ground are long abandoned items of cloth, busted whirligigs and other plastic decor, dog toys, children's toys, plastic plant labels, and so on. They are hidden by a carpet of weed whacked weeds which include honeysuckle coming back.
My biggest issue is knowing how much shade this area, historically very shaded, will continue to have as we clear up the mess to the west. I am transplanting the native plants of which i approve (ferns, violets) into an area with a very sad redbud. There's not much of the tree that was sandwiched between autumn olive and honeysuckle.
Just getting a little work done back there, though, has made a world of difference.
Tuesday - blur.
Wednesday night i was cranky after work and the humidity had returned, so we went to see Star Trek Beyond: it was surprisingly delightful in entertaining me. Admittedly, the bar was low, so there's that.
Yesterday was disordered by the failure of an upgrade to my work laptop. So midday we ran into Carrboro to overnight the machine to the home office, and followed with errands and a very nice lunch out. We didn't go outside to work, and we watched the second episode of Julian Fellow's Dr Thorne.
Tonight we are going up to Wake Forest (which is not where the university is: hmph) to see a friend's crochet creations on display.
Late now for work! And feeding the cat, says Luigi.
Hunting season may have started, and i worry about how gun shots will play on Christine's nerves knowing the deer that visit us and that hunting lands are directly to our east. I should go buy purple paint to mark our boundary.
Last Sunday was moderately pleasant, too, and instead of yard work i took off into our woods. I crossed into the hunting lands and back a couple times -- there's a bag with three propane cans and something else i should go collect for the trash that i found. I assume they are empty, and i assume they were left by hunters and not the litterbug previous owners.
I started out near our eastern boundary and cut west, finding a massive sweetgum (liquidamber) and the large rock that had tickled my father. There's no loam in places - the clay shows through a bit. I saw a fairly common orchid and some wintergreen. The southwest corner is well marked with a pipe. Cutting back east i found thickets of autumn olive and the ground covered with stilt grass. I was waving my walking stick in the air ahead of me to clear the orb weaver webs and then whacking the grass, to alert any snakes. Despite looking at my location on my phone I got turned around more than once. It's Mirkwood, i tell you, Mirkwood back there. If there are Hobbit capturing spiders i will not be surprised.
It was a bit depressing, and i stalled on yard work this week. Today i will get back in the groove. In good news, there's no honeysuckle back there. I did see a place where one of the giant vines of poison ivy had apparently collapsed under it's own weight right at the edge of our clearing. I've no idea what to do with that: "nothing" sounds like the right plan.
--== ∞ ==--
Another thing that happened last Sunday: I attended my first Meeting for Business at the FUM meeting. Of two remarkable things, one was that they discerned about a slight change in wording in their minute to repeal HB2 (the "Bathroom" bill). An out transwoman in their community had concerns about how the wording made it sound as if the meeting did not reject the bathroom provision but all the others. No one was defensive (although there may have been a long email thread to which i was not party), there was compassionate discussion -- including for those who have been stirred up to fear -- and the minute was adjusted promptly.
The other remarkable thing was the informality. Over the week i've grown to realize that the formal practice of business meeting with which i am familiar is partly due to the large size of the meetings. I've not decided what i think, but i am becoming acquainted with the Quaker Police in my head, tut-tutting about the form.
The meta-Quaker police are going to tut-tut about THAT, as form is not the goal. And i think a spirit of Love and Justice moves unhindered in this community.
I feel the need for rest, so i will try to rest.
I hope your weekend is pleasant, and hope coastal folks get their power back and recover from the flooding. For myself though, Hermine has brought cooler weather and some needed rain. Indeed, it's these hurricanes that recharge the water table here. After the California drought and reading about the 2008 drought in the book Down the Haw, i appreciate rain.
Act 1: Grief.
I'd gotten the shelf and shelf lighting set up the night before? Early that morning? We placed the urns and other little relics in a place of honor and sat for a while in waiting worship.
Act 2: Friends
We went out to lunch with L&J at a nice Italian place that was echoingly empty. I really don't understand - perhaps it's packed by dinner and workday lunchtime folks? These two are Christine's friends from back in her orchestra days, and so there was much relating of Christine's attendance upon teen auditions the week before. We then headed out of town a little bit to a potter's kiln opening. For annie_r, i'll note the details.
First it was dreadfully, miserably hot. When we arrived the sun was pouring down and we may have missed the display of bowls as we made for the relief of the barn. The "outer" barn is lined with the apprentice's work, which is fine work itself, and I think we all found our purchases there. Inside was Hewett's work. I am NOT a pottery expert, but i think most of Hewett's glazes nod to traditional NC salt and ash glazes. Ah "They are using these new glazes, as well as their traditional salt and ash glazes for this current load for Firing 95 of the ‘old’ salt kiln." Whatever "these new glazes" were, they were not dramatically different fom what is familiar to my eyes as traditional NC glazes (Ah, here - https://hewittpottery.com/galleries/pre
The embellishments included pressed indentations and primitivesque free hand whimsical line drawings. There was just a touch of cobalt in places to accent, and there was a pale pale green grey glaze. The forms were masterful. There was nothing i loved so much that i wanted to overcome the price barrier.
The pitcher and cup i picked out was in a very dark brown glaze - i suspect it's from an older firing and not this seasons work. It's a birthday gift for my mother.
Fortunately, heavy storm clouds had gathered in time for us to be shaded while standing in the purchase line. With the increasing volume of rolls of thunder, i did look with some concern at the iPads and other tech being used to manage purchases. We ducked into the working barn for lemonade and found a heavily gullied clay floor, polished by years of traffic. As i picked my way carefully to the refreshment, i figured the insurance lawyers had never seen the place.
As we stepped outside, gusty winds picked up, and i figured we had time enough to get to the cars before it dumped. We did, and we didn't see rain at all on the drive home, although the road we live on was slightly damp.
Act 3: Family
While at the potter's, my dad called to make check whether we had been invited over. My mother had forgotten whether she had. I find that a new behavior, in part because growing up mom was always certain she'd told us things but hadn't (exactly). It adds more weight to my concern for her mental health, and heightens my awareness of the opportunities to spend time with her.
We had a hour or so to rest before heading off on some errands before heading over to my parents for dinner with them and my sister's family. Mom had created a feast. Stories were re-told, dead birds were declined at the dinner table, and a generally pleasant time was had.
The heavens finally opened up and rain poured down, dropping the temperature dramatically.
We left early enough to get home and manage a few chores before finally retiring.
Before giving up on the day, though, i went out to water at lunch time. I noticed that there are fewer of the "Rose of Sharon" Hibiscus syriacus blossoms. I'll see if it was the cool nights but i suspect that the summer show is shutting down. The crepe myrtles, butterfly bush, and pink magnolia all seem to continue as they have for weeks, though.
Roadsides have goldenrod and boneset as well as sunflowers. Queen Anne's lace seems curled up. I noticed some boneset just down the road from our drive: i will collect some seed for my septic field meadow. It's still most likely that if a yellow flutter catches my eye, it's one of the many tiger swallowtails that have had a population boom this year. Once though it's been a leaf from the tulip poplar. There goes another. I've noticed some American plane trees looking golden and some dogwoods with some bronzed leaves.
Leaf raking hadn't been an envisioned task, ever, but apparently it's pretty important for moss gardens.
The light seems to herald evening before i get off work.
Christine's grief from Mr M's death a year ago is refreshened: we will mark the day tomorrow.
Would you agree that our world is in utter chaos and turmoil? When we watch the news, there is hardly anything good shown any more. Crime rates are at an all-time high. There is little respect for law enforcement. Teachers have little control in their classrooms. Political representatives are having a hard time agreeing on what is best for their constituents. We ask what we can do to make a difference.
Would reading the news and not watching help? (And what are the odds the author watches Fox?)
Is the comment that "there is little respect for law enforcement" a comment on race?
This morning i also read the first two stories in an investigative series entitled Deadly Force. The second story describes the deputies breaking into a woman's home to admit her inebriated tenant. My mind swirls with thoughts of gun rights and defending one's own home.
I'm listening to the anger and pain that Trump's campaign makes manifest, but with some bewilderment and what seem to me to be counter justifications. I remember Lakoff's comments between the conventions this year: to frame the discussion in terms of freedoms and liberty.
Now to change focus, to the world i live in, so alive with joy. (I am so lucky, privileged). I think a hawk is arguing with the fish crows outside.
I had a couple of blues yesterday: insecurity with work (i'm missing an obvious "figure this out" target, yet there are high pressure issues coming from multiple directions), and a sense of overwhelm when looking at a tangle of dead and dying trees and honeysuckle vines. The slow clipping of the vines must come first, i guess.
I don't know if we have enough room to pile the small trees while we clear. They take up a great deal of room on their sides. This is why i was burning periodically. There's definitely more stuff that needs burning -- the vines, in particular. Looks like rain at the end of the month and i'll have fuel for a fire waiting for then.
This morning i awoke before dawn and stepped out into the moonlight. Stars were clear overhead and it was cool, cooler than inside. A quick check of the weather and the dew point was below 70°! Oh my heavens, fall may come! There have been breezes, too. It's made me appreciate just how incredibly oppressive July was.
I am so drawn out: the birds had quite the chorus this morning and now, with the blinds up, i see a humming bird and have watched cardinals. The cats were delighted with the open windows.
Indeed, i sit here and, instead of writing, look out, thinking of all the projects: planting an orchard of understory trees to replace the Autumn Olive and feed the critters (native crab apple, persimmon, paw paw, chinquapin - Castanea pumila), planting old Southern apples, and a fig, and a pomegranate. Sunflowers, native varieties and cultured ones.....
Saturday we spent driving around the northern piedmont visiting Christine's family. As i watched the roadsides rush by, i thought of how my eyes have been retrained by looking for wildflowers in California. Joe Pye weed and goldenrods and some white flowered plant create a haze of color that i have always just called weeds. But there's our native wildflowers on parade. I imagine a border of those tall purple blossoms, the cloud of white and the shots of gold and all the butterflies one can dream of -- i'm probably spoiled as this summer has been the summer of the tiger swallowtail butterfly. I see a half dozen at a time fluttering across the yard.
I'm not spending hours identifying flowers or plants, developing photos, or imagining trips. I can walk right outside the door into my own preserve and get my fingers grubby.
So, if i was going to see a therapist once a week, i'd be taking that time as sick time. If i were to set time aside for therapeutic journaling, does that also count as sick time? With this pondering, i find myself reflecting, what about sick time off for stretching exercises that are essentially physical therapy for my feet and ankles?
Nope, need to be paying someone.
Nope, need someone to be supervising
Yes to the stretches, 'cause a doctor told you to do them
Take all the mental health time you can justify
You could, but what will you do when you get really sick?
You get sick time off? Pfft. Do you know how rare that privilege is?
You earned it.
Are you avoiding visiting your pretend therapist by writing this poll?
Better do exactly what corporate HR policy says.
You are so busy the rest of your day you can't journal or stretch in your off time?
Yesterday i slept surprisingly late. I missed Meeting, and sat in waiting worship with Christine for a while in our living room. It was miserable outside. Still, i kept my appointment for a walk with my sister's family to hear someone in their neighborhood chat about lichens. Pleasant memory, but at the time i thought i was just going to dissolve. In the late afternoon i actually worked outside (since i was already in a state requiring a great deal of tidying up). I finally planted some plants i had "rescued" from the sale rack at Lowes. One has been lingering for weeks. I think it's still alive.
So, i now have a north to south area under various experimental treatments. ( Long description of a small area of the east yard. )
--== ∞ ==--
Meanwhile, it was a hard weekend on the elephant front. I need to think of sustainable practices for me.
Of course, buried in there is the bad new$. The prices are ten years old. Maybe they're about the same -- real cost going down because it's more common countered by inflation?
Might do fans this year, if it's ever dry again.
--== ∞ ==--
In other news, my California dentist & her assistant would check me in, take xrays, inspect, and clean my teeth in 30 minutes. The new dentist plus assistant plus hygienist plus receptionist plus bill person took an hour an a half. No x-rays, but my gums were probed.
The dentist was impressed with the state of my mouth, which was a pleasant confirmation that the California dentist was really doing a good job. (The California dentist never probed my gums, so i always had a back of mind worry that my gums were in trouble.) Whitener advice was proffered by the new dentist, but gracefully dropped when i indicated i was OK with my (yellow) teeth.
--== ∞ ==--
The number of law firms that watched the local traffic ticket docket and offered their services by mail has now reached 5. I guess getting a lawyer is the sensible thing to do, but it feels like i'm gaming against justice when the lawyer is just "getting me off" and not talking to me about the details.
Yesterday after work i went out, clumsily hacked into tree and shrub trunks, and applied high concentrations of glyphosate to the wounds. I'd done some tests with autumn olive a few weeks ago, and it seems promising. I was delighted to find that the goats had girdled the mimosa and that it was quite dead. They'd done some trunk damage to the trees of heaven, but not enough. I do worry that there will be mimosa suckers for ages -- although maybe if we get the copper phosphate in the septic field that will be addressed.
In repairing the HVAC, Ken (the HVAC guy) noticed some other issues. He gave his advice, but i'm going to run it by my dad before acting on it. I also posted my thoughts to the county BBS. The county BBS certainly seems to have plenty of folks ready to dismiss liberals as the evil that is ruining the country. Then there's the right wing rumor machine at work: yesterday some one was pushing the theory that H Clinton is having transient small strokes. Nonetheless, i'm finding it fairly easy to filter the political noise from the neighborly signal. And for local politics, such as the preemptive zoning of the whole county, it is useful to read everyone's concerns.
So, before we bought our place in April, we had the sellers install a new condensation barrier in the crawlspace. Yesterday morning we had our HVAC friend out (heat pump had stopped due to a poor design of its condensation drain - again), and he noted that there was now condensation pooling on top of the barrier. He said he'd seen a lot of this recently, and the answer was sealing up the crawlspace instead of venting.
It seems to me that sealing up would be an amplifying choice: as long as it's dry, great, but if any moisture did get in, it would be harder to dry out. I suppose one could run a dehumidifier in the crawl space, but i'm not thrilled with yet another system to keep going.
Finding a way for pooled water to drain down through the moisture barrier seems like it would solve the current issue and still not allow much moisture to rise. Or maybe more effective venting? Some fan system? (Although that's another active system to maintain.)
I do like the hickory flooring, and i really hate mold.
And then the air conditioning went out. Today was ok, though, as we kept shut up. I miss how it would cool off in the California evening. Tomorrow will be tough: hopefully the repair folks will be able to make it by 9:30.
One hen turkey and ten teen turkeys were in the east yard today. Looked like they were vacuuming up bugs. I wish i knew how i could keep them at it. Apparently, "High-quality turkey habitat will support one bird per 30 acres or a flock of 18 to 20 turkeys per square mile." They can have all the black walnuts & hickory nuts they want. (Although how on earth can a turkey get into a hickory nut?)
I am really going to have to plant LOTS if i want any of whatever it is: i have lots of neighbors to share with.
I've gotten to spend time with my sister's kids: they spent Friday morning here and then i took them to a mead festival to watch the knights, eat the crazy giant turkey legs (or, nibble at the outside of said legs), and visit the vendors. That was a pleasure, except for the damp enveloping heat. We came back to my home for desert and sodas before promptly returning them to my sister.
--== ∞ ==--
Monday morning: I actually stepped outside yesterday morning and it felt nice. We sat on the porch a bit and then i started some yard work and kept going for hours. There was digging, placing logs for the raised bed, weeding the edge of the logs on the "lawn" side of the logs so that only moss remained, and piling up of stuff to create a beginning of a hugelkultur bed. That's a raised bed that begins with a core of hardwood. We have hardwood! What we don't have is piles and piles of rotted compost or manure or any of the stuff layered on top of the logs. I have a start with sticks, branches, and a large chunk of a tree trunk that is part of the legacy from the previous owners. Some of their legacy manure went into that along with some stuff from the compost pile, then a thick pile of weeds -- it was pretty easy to get a great deal of green matter -- then the "turf," also known as chunks of red clay with grass. Later i went out and covered that with news paper. Eventually it will all silt into the gaps of the wood, but i think with out the paper one good downpour would wash it all away.