A couple new friends invited us over yesterday evening to snare apples and share meatloaf. I'm an oink when it comes to free fruit, but I didn't feel too embarrassed because you still can't tell we were there. In the back of my mind is a return trip, if I can figure out what to make. I'm beginning to picture long rows of canned apple juice next to our tomatoes.
Do you know why their tree branches droop to the ground? Because V sings and talks to them. She learned how to do this years ago when she and D lived in Findhorn Community, Scotland. I talked to my new pea, beet and kale seedlings all day today, trying to get them to grow fast so they're too big to be bothered by rabbits and free-range birds, not that either are going to be pests for long in light of recent history at Elk Cliff.
We need to restore Elk Cliff Karma. Two days of turkey sacrifice invited predators to our gentle farm. Gone are eight turkeys (us), five ducks (coyote) and three chickens (hawk and opossum). What's next?
My mind, as usual, went macro based on micro experience. We're mass murderers, every one of us. Burning oil not only may be shortening life on Earth, but imagine all the animals and plants that die getting the oil to us (for example, think Gulf of Mexico or the giant freighter cutting through the seas). Eat veggies? Dissect a green bean and examine it with a microscope. Swat! Darn mosquito. Take a step. Did something squish? Drive at night. What's all that goop on the radiator? Order something on the Internet. What did UPS terminate on its hurried path to delivery?
"Stop it," says Virginia. "You're depressing me."
The Bowman Women; A Work In Progress
1 week ago