Tuesday Update — Time Off

I took a week off, simply because we all sometimes need to take a week off. A week off from blogging or publishing an essay doesn’t mean a week off from life, of course. I fit a lot of living into the week, although most of that wasn’t with a pen in hand or in front of a keyboard.

No, my week “off” was spent tending these beautiful 12 acres that we are privileged to share with the owner, our good neighbor and friend. We cleaned up the orchard, so that it can continue to flourish and provide 90 percent of our fruit needs (and desires). We did battle with the blackberry hedges lining the lane before they devoured all.

{Note: I have a deep belief that blackberries will eventually be classified as carnivorous. They envelop and ensnare all who venture too closely to their thorns. As their hapless prey writhes and dies in the bramble, the bodies then decompose and feed the soil, and thus the (carnivorous) blackberry canes can feast.}

We cleaned up areas of our neighbor’s property that he has trouble tending to, because aging is a bitch. We weeded and trimmed, and swept out areas where accumulation tends to, well, accumulate. Much of the debris was organic, with the worst bits going to the brush and mulch pile in the woods, and the best bits going to the compost pile. What wasn’t organic was sorted, cleaned, recycled, or disposed of, as was fitting. 

I can look out my window and see the results of our labor. It feels good. This is why I will never be anti-work, although I am anti-pointless work for profit instead of for good sense. There is a difference and there is nuance. It is best that we remember that.

Some of the week was spent on indoor pursuits. I dehydrated a metric ton (slight exaggeration) of rhubarb for snacking and baking. We started a batch of cherry wine. I baked bread, lots of bread. Our daily loaf, of course, along with a standard loaf for grilled sandwiches and lots of buns for summer use. These go in the freezer, a useful contraption. The mending pile is empty, all the socks darned and the seams repaired. I even began working on the gift list items for the latter half of the year!

You see, I spend a lot of time working with my brain, for what it is worth. Sometimes it is better to work with one’s hands. This is the type of week it was, and my hands and body are grateful for the chance to be useful.

Life is for living. Go live it!

As always, yours in hope,

Tuesday Update — Discombobulated

26 May

Remember the change I mentioned last week? It has discombobulated me a bit more than I thought it would. Side note — isn’t discombobulated a simply delicious word? I love it!

Anyway, here I am, a full week in and I made the mistake I always make, I thought I could do everything with a dash of even more. Usually this starts well enough, but ends in flames. I think, maybe, perhaps, I caught this before I exploded into a fiery ball of burn out and exhaustion. How did I do this? I’m taking a day, today in fact, to sit around and restructure my time and to freaking relax. 

It’s raining, that pleasant and invigorating rain of early summer. Playing hooky today is also invigorating, as any sort of rebellion tends to be. Wish me luck!

Writing Updates:

No weekly Medium essay this time. This is part of my playing hooky and reassessment of my time usage. I fully expect to be back in fine fettle next week, so I shall deliver an essay then.

My other main writing work has been either for our friend the Ragman, or it has been personal exploratory work as I figure out the shape of my life for the next few months, at least. Not the sort of stuff I share publically, although it is the sort of stuff that future essays are often born of. Think of exploratory writing as the Orion Nebula — a nursery for the future words that will ignite into new stars.

Reading Updates:

I finished rereading Living the Good Life by Helen and Scott Nearing. I’m still working through my reread of Mark Boyle’s The Moneyless Manifesto.

In new reads, as in I haven’t read them before, I am chugging away at Sanderson’s Elantris — I adore this book, but it is slow going because it is a heavier epic fantasy with lots of moving parts, and my summer brain isn’t quite up to the work. So a chapter a day, most days, is my limit. Still, read Sanderson if you haven’t. He’s a nice break from the “romantasy” that has taken over and watered down my favorite genre. 

Of course, three books isn’t enough, so I also started reading Ecotopia Emerging by Ernest Callenbach. I read his classic Ecotopia years ago, but wasn’t aware that there was a follow up. The suggested reads on openlibrary.org revealed it to me, and lo and behold, it was available to borrow for free!

Survive & Thrive:

Two words for you — rhubarb candy! We have so much rhubarb and it is mainly useful only when heavily sugared in a dessert. True, I like it sliced fine in a slaw, or stewed down as a base for a barbecue sauce or dressing, but its usage is fairly limited.

On a whim, I tossed some sliced rhubarb with some honey and chili powder, then dehydrated it in the electric dehydrator. Oh my! It’s a lovely tart treat with a flavor reminiscent of Mexican chamomile candies and a texture like a gummy bear! A delicious addition to certain rice and wild rice dishes, chicken salad, or any salad really. I even sprinkled some on top of a pesto pizza and it was divine. Anywhere that you would use dried cranberries, raisins, or a bit of tart fruit in a savory dish works well. I imagine it would do really well with pork dishes, too!

The rest has been standard — we transferred the rhubarb wine to a carboy to finish out over the next three weeks, then we shall bottle it. Our next decision is what to get into the fermenting bucket next! I gave all of our herbs a haircut and dried the excess for future use. The beans, peas, lettuce, mustard, and spinach germinated, but my cucumber and zucchini seeds may be too old so I will likely be picking up seedlings somewhere this week. 

We had to put netting over the strawberry patch because the squirrels are eating all the leaves! Usually we don’t need to protect them until they start to produce berries. We also tended to a lot of chores. Like weeding around the trees, mainly to remove blackberry vines that tangle around the trunks. We also cleaned the moss and tree debris off our lane. I like how it looks, but that much debris is hard on the asphalt and it can become slick to drive on, so needs must. 

There is also the usual weekly stuff I don’t really talk about — making all our meals at home, baking bread, tending the garden, foraging, fixing stuff that breaks, hunting down or making replacements for things that can’t be fixed (and preferably doing this without spending any money), drinking beer on the deck, chatting with neighbors and friends, playing darts, and practicing my fiddle. You know, the stuff of living. 

As always, yours in hope,

Good Food Sometimes Means Doing Hard Things

The Homespun Foodie’s week in review, Nov 30-Dec 6

Winter often drives me indoors more frequently, which in turn means I spend more time in the kitchen. This is an odd December, though. Although I still find myself in the kitchen most days, it is at the comfort of my desk with a pen and paper in front of me, instead of before the stove and dusted with flour.

In other words, cooking has been a chore rather than a delight. An odd December indeed.

It is easy to compromise our goals and our plans, to literally go for broke, when the body and mind rebel against what must be done. It is easy to frame poor decisions as giving oneself grace or as self-care.

Compromising values, giving up on goals, and taking the easy way is not self-care, no matter what your influencer-guru tells you. Hurting your future self is never self-care. To throw away money — and the life energy we spend acquiring it — on food choices that go against our values and drain our wallets is not self-care. 

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Localize Your Feed and Free Your Mind

Less News is good news

The alarm goes off, and I grope for my phone in the dark. As soon as I silence the auditory noise, I begin filling my eyes with visual noise. The daily scroll has begun. I cycle through headlines on the news feed, helpfully curated by algorithms that no human hand controls.

When that becomes too much, I flip over to social media and begin reading the headlines and hot takes regurgitated by a million countless cogs in a machine that is imprisoning us all. By the time I roll out of bed an hour later, my brain is filled with rot I can’t control, and I have lost all faith in not just humanity, but my own future.

This isn’t some dystopian fantasy; this is the reality for millions, if not billions, of people around the world. The good news is that it doesn’t have to be.

The 24-hour news cycle has created a trap that leads to personal paralysis. If everything is so screwed, then why bother? If you still have the energy to bother, to try to effect change, then where to start? For too many of us, where we start and where we end is by banging angrily on a keyboard. Adding to the noise, but not creating anything of substance. Certainly not creating any solutions.

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Eating Through Life’s Seasons

The Homespun Foodie’s week in review, Nov 23–29

Life, much like the wheel of the year, is an ongoing cascade of different seasons. Usually, we cycle through busy seasons and slower ones, but recently, life around here has felt like one busy season after another. True, each one is busy for different reasons and in different ways, but busy nonetheless.

It makes cooking even more challenging when one has mixed feelings about the winter holidays. The dominant culture around me celebrates three main winter holidays: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. Of the three, the only one that raises no misgivings in my heart is New Year’s Eve and day.

I struggle with the colonial roots of Thanksgiving and the Christian appropriation of various solstice/midwinter celebrations that evolved into our modern Christmas. I am sure I am not the only one who finds this challenging.

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Go Outside Every Damn Day

It’s not a choice, it’s an imperative

What do rain, sun, and snow have in common? If you said they are all types of weather, then you are only half right. The full answer is that they are all great types of weather for being outside.

That’s right, rain and snow can be just as lovely as sunshine.

Not the outdoorsy type? Who cares. Is it raining? So what. You have an overriding fear of moths? Grow up.

I’m not saying this to be unkind. I’m saying this because the kindest thing I can do is to tell you to go outside nearly every damn day. This isn’t about some study making the daily news rounds, although there are more than a few of those. It’s not even about vitamin D. Well, not entirely.

It’s about humility, awe, and being true to your most primal inner human nature.

It’s about being fully alive.

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I Am Not Special

These four words will save your life

Chances are, if your life was anything like mine, you were told by someone at some point that you were special. Usually, it’s a parent, grandparent, or other adult who first says something like this to a child. Sometimes it’s a teacher. Sometimes it is twaddle from an esteem-building children’s story.

“You’re special. You can do anything you want.”

“You can be anything you like when you grow up, because you are special!”

“Don’t worry about what that bully said; they are just jealous because you are so special.”

“You aren’t like the other girls (or guys), you’re special.”

However it is worded, it somehow seeps into our psyche. The world is comprised of special individuals like us, and then there is everyone else. For some reason, we never stop to consider that everyone is walking around feeling special.

Everyone thinks they are the main character. Yet, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that none of us is the main character. Main characters live happily or unhappily ever after. All of us die at the end of our story.

No ever after.

Nada.

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My Life With Spiders

Caught In Charlotte’s Web

It is still too dark to check on her.

Last night, I watched helplessly as she rushed to bundle up her home in the failing light, as rain lashed down and the wind blew. She hadn’t quite succeeded by the time I closed the blinds, but she was huddled up in a relatively safe and protected spot.

As dawn finally breaks over the eastern ridge, I hazard a peek through the blinds. Her home is immaculate, and she is perched comfortably in the center, her head down and waiting. I see the beginning haze of a cloud of gnats rising from the stinking laurel shrub below, and I am relieved that she will not go hungry today.

I call her Charlotte, for the obvious reason that she is an orb weaver spider, and I was one of the many children in this world who cried over E.B. White’s Charlotte’s Web. Her home is a web that she has spun across the outside of my dining room window, mere feet from where I sit and write most days.

Autumn in the Pacific Northwest is aptly named “spider season” by the locals.

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Living within Your Time and Money Means

The Homespun Foodie’s week in review, Nov 9–15

We are in a lull right now, here at the always cozy Sequoia Cottage. It is a financial lull, as our income continues to hover at its lowest since 2009, and a time lull, as few outside responsibilities are tugging at me.

Having little money but plenty of time is preferred over having little money and little time, of course. With time, we can invest in those actions that make the most of small means. Whether unfortunate or not, our time will soon be in high demand, but there is no guarantee that our income will rise with it.

All is well and all will be well, though, for we are experienced at living large on little — whether that little be time or money!

One way to control working-class folk is to make their survival all-consuming. The workers can’t organize for better pay and improved conditions, for example, if their waking hours are booked full with scrambling for a few meager crusts to make ends meet. Without time, who has the energy to trace their difficulties to the feet of the elite, or to change something about it if they do?

Money-deprived folk with time revolt; money- and time-deprived folk simply struggle to survive.

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Taking the Time to Live a Longer Life

Musings from the bus stop.

The journey begins pleasantly enough. I walk down the lane, leaves crunching underfoot. First I crunch through a collection of maple leaves which are satisfyingly crispy even after yesterday’s drizzle.

Next, my feet wade into a sea of yellow heart-shaped leaves. It is the cottonwoods, whose pleasant fragrance reaches me before I see the first impossibly tall trunk. Looking up, I realize our lane winds through a copse of these giant grandmother cottonwoods. Large and wise they tower above. I have driven this lane a thousand times and never noticed them dancing alongside the pavement, ensconced as I was in an aluminum, plastic, and steel cage.

I am disappointed in myself, but also thrilled to have finally made their discovery.

Bright leaves dot the blacktop at my feet like colorful autumnal confetti. I take it all in, my head turning this way and that in an impossible effort to synthesize it all into my being.

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