Iâve got some complaining to do today, but there are some rays of sunshine, too, fear not!
Letâs get the crap out of the way first, donât you think?
Thatâs âman-made Climate Changeâ alright!In the morninâ, in the eveninâ, ainât we got fun?!
âClimate changeââ aka Geoengineering/Weather Modification â continues to haunt us. That is, in droughting us out, mercilessly. I have little hope for the fall garden. Iâve had very poor germination in some crops, none at all in others. That could be the high soil temperature, the still scorching sun and heat even now into October, or perhaps itâs all that crap in the atmosphere.
The pastures are so parched, which means, as I mentioned last time, more sheep than weâd wanted to will go to freezer camp.
The upside is, we are eating very well these days. Weâd slowed down on meat consumption over the summer because the freezers were low. The hens had really slowed down laying too in the heat. Now weâve got meat and egg surplus and weâve been indulging accordingly.
That also means tallow, which is like white gold to me!
Hubby also pressure canned us some lamb and broth. Yum!
They want a pretty penny for this stuff, which makes sense considering all the costs and effort involved. A basic tallow balm will set you back $15/ounce! Iâve already made one hand balm with rather erotic-scented essential oils thatâs got the thumbâs up from my sole customer. đ¤
On to the garden . . .
The purple Czech hot pepper is still my season favorite. Itâs still doing beautifully (under shade cloth) and is a lovely little plant Iâll try to over-winter indoors. Hubby is making hot sauce in the fermentation crock that Iâm sure will be top-notch.
Pictured: the purple Czechs in the center back, Thai basil to its left, sweet basil upfrontâso it is protected from full sun in every direction except from the east.Even under shade cloth and screening the fall crops are not germinating. Luckily I was able to start a few indoors under grow lights.Tomatoes also started indoors mid-summer under grow lights, now looking pretty good transplanted outside last month. Fingers crossed it doesnât frost too early and weâll get the rare fall harvest of plump red tomatoes. Dare to dream!
Weâve finally fully weened the kids and itâs been a very loud few days! Iâve got enough milk again to make some good cheeses, which is just about my favorite thing to do in the world. Or, I just really missed it all summer and Iâm really sick of the garden.
The kids will be fine without their mamas, they just donât know it yet. đ
Iâve got to get practicing my cheeses again, because the interest in homesteading has really been growing around here. A nearby group has formed and asked us to share some knowledge, which we are pleased to do. Hubby will be lending a hand in the butchery department and I will be offering my fermentation wisdomâ in kombucha, soft cheeses and sourdoughâfor now, hopefully moving on to more advanced skills if interests persist. Itâs been a very long time since Iâve done any teaching and Iâm already nervous! But, Iâm so pleased folks are really starting to see the value in more self-reliant living.
Whether itâs out of necessity or innate interest, Iâm thrilled more folks are choosing a more natural lifestyle.
And . . .I think the more the big shit stinks, the more we should be celebrating the small stuff.
And . . .Just in time for Halloween . . .a visit from a black widow!
Youâve gotta love the myth-makersâ knack for crafting novel ânon-judgmentalâ lingo.
After all, who wants to say anything too closely resembling honesty about someone who caused loads of damage to their own lives and those of nearly everyone around them? That would be so mean.
Especially, obviously, on their deathbeds. This is when kind lies are most required, for the good of those gathered, who definitely do not want to be reminded that they rubbed elbows with such creeps and degenerates all their lives.
Especially, obviously, if thereâs inheritance involved. Everyone wants to believe they inherited good, clean money and stuff, not funds garnered by drugs (unless theyâre legal!), or theft, or blackmail, or you know, god forbid, blood money.
Who can help but to consider the grandchildren of the Great Fauci, as just one example?
Sure, they can go to his Wikipedia page and read how awesome he is once heâs dead. They can brush up on all his prestigious awards before hearing the sweet tinkling chimes of their personal portion of his vast estate which they have rightfully earned through his unfortunate passing. They can tell their own grandchildren how many lives he saved and how much of their own fortunes they owe to his generosity.
But, what if those poor future grandchildren get ahold of some of the fake news available today? Just imagine how this might affect their innocent psyches? And who would be responsible for this psychological torture?
Well, all the disinfo agents, clearly! Those evil-hearted, hate-spewing degenerates who are never grateful for their assigned heroes. Those same miserable wretches who believe Bill Gates and Klaus Schwab and the Bush & Clinton clans and even Trump are ALL deranged psychopaths.
All those crazies who are ruining our democracy!
If you canât see it yet, put your rose-colored glasses back on!
Doctorâs orders: 3 puppy videos, 10 deep breathes during your time out, 33 rainbow drawings with your permanent markers, then you can re-join us nice, happy folk in civilized society.
Oh yes, thatâs so much better! I can see clearly now!
Itâs those people who believe the world reeks foul at every turn when in fact the stench is coming from within their own selves! Ahhhh, yes.
If they would just look in the mirror and smell themselves.
If they would just see the world as we do, so full of wonder and joy, then the world would magically shape-shift right before their very eyes and they would be filled as we are with the light of love and joy radiating outward at every angle of the sun, especially from their eyes and anus.
If those haters see a drug-pushing, lying, greedy turd in the mirrored face of the Great Fauci, then they just donât realize the world is a kaleidoscope of marvels and all they have to do is change their black lenses for pink ones, which would undoubtedly turn their subjective hell into a fantastic earthly paradise!
ďżź
Put your rose-colored glasses back on, Dude, before you bum everybody out!
Homeless Vagrant Wins Fashion Award After Stumbling Onto Stage At Paris Fashion Week LIFESTYLE¡ Oct 4, 2022 ¡ BabylonBee.com PARIS â Homeless vagrant Jean-Michel de Beauvoir won the coveted Palme dâLouvre award for Best in Fashion after stumbling onto the stage during Paris Fashion Week during a Balenciaga show. âThis is the greatest day [âŚ]
A respite from the heat, but still no rain. We surveyed our fenced land for grazing and have come to the sad conclusion that our intention last year to grow the herd will not be achieved in the near future.
Seemed like the right thing to do, growing the herd, considering food inflation and especially high meat prices, and the fact that Hubby is here full-time now, and that more bartering/trading could be in the foreseeable future. But, the parched land screams otherwise.
Between the steeply rising cost of feed and the meager forage available, and no guarantees the stranglehold of the weather terrorists will let up any time soon, we come to some difficult decisions.
We will wait another year to freshen the goats, drastically reduce the number of sheep, and breed back only one sow. We will maintain the poultry flock as-is for the most part, but had hoped to add ducks once again to the mix. No rain means fewer bugs means more supplemental feed. So that plan is not looking too good now either.
Planned building projects are also getting postponed. A âmilking parlorâ was on the list, some much-needed repairs to the deck, rebuilding the greenhouse, a field shelter for the herd, and on and on, plans are easy, implementation, not so much!
We are blessed with an already achieved minimalism: Living seasonally, frugally, well-acquainted with the boom-bust cycles of our overlords and still small enough to be flexible, and with enough local support to know weâve got each other.
Our most crucial long-term goal remains: Growing our own feedâperennials as well as annuals.
We hear the word âsustainableâ repeated multiple times a day these days, but thereâs rarely anything truly sustainable being suggested.
Itâs 99% hype and green washing. But actual sustainability does exist, and the more self-reliant we can be, the closer we are to achieving it.
How do we measure up?
And itâs not like thereâs not plenty for us still to do and learn here, even with squeezing the belt tighter.
Iâm still very interested in herbalism, especially as it pertains to our local environment. The best things in life are free, or nearly so, no?!
And while I do appreciate the allure of the consumer life, Iâm far more fascinated by the natural world all around me. Itâs always a matter of slowing down, observing ever more closely, teasing out the potential of all that is all around me, and some of that certainly means our local community, but that doesnât just mean the people.
Iâd love to learn more wild crafts, as well as more fine art tuning; more science, and more speculation; and much, much more about where and how these endeavors mesh.
There is a different brand of âMore!â, isnât there, than the furious Billy Idol sang about?
Or, maybe itâs all the same, in the midnight hour?
Every day on the wee homestead brings some new mystery, most of which go mostly unsolved. No need for UFOs, Jesusâ image on your morning toast, or Big Foot sightings around hereâweâve got baffling bees, mystical mushrooms, and unexplained murders.
Iâll start with the most dramatic. A rancher neighbor was terribly shaken up and recounted a recent disturbing event at their place, meaning to warn us. They found two calves bleeding, one dead, one still barely alive, which they had to put down, the injury was so severe.
She had been crying, as I wouldâve been as well, and told me in their nearly two decades here they had never seen such a thing and had no idea what creature had done it. It wasnât any kind of injury they recognized or have had to deal with before. Each one had a single tear right up its undercarriage, with the entrails spilling out, and nothing eaten. Coyotes being our typical predators around here, I inquired along those lines and she shook her head, clearly, not this time. We do hear stories about panther sightings on occasion, I myself thought I saw one once too. But again, the gnawing question, predators donât just kill calves for the fun of it. Two calves killed, no markings or traces of a struggle, and nothing eaten. That is a mystery I prefer not to think too much about.
So, quickly, on to better stories!
I have an update on the bizarre âmushroom blobâ from a recent post. Over the last weeks it has developed into typical bracket or crust fungi. While now at least it is generally identifiable, the mystery still remains, because bracket mushrooms grow on trees, not under vines in regular garden soil. There is not even wood mulch on the top of the bed where itâs growing.
The fungi when I first found it above, and again today, below.
My only guess is that the mycelia network is coming up from below this raised bad. We threw a bunch of wood chunks down before piling on the soil. But, that might be a stretch, as Iâve never heard of these mushrooms growing on anything but living or dead bark. I just donât know.
Mushrooms being my second favorite mystery after bees, we end with a sweeter little story.
This bitternut tree was all abuzz with activity this morning. Itâs hard with photos to get a sense of how many bees were working it, so thereâs a short video clip below for the sound effects.
We couldnât help but think it was such odd bee behavior, because nothing on this tree is bloomingâno pollen, no nectar. Yet the bees were clearly eating something off the leaves. So, we licked the leaves, and they taste sweet! I have no idea why this would be, but the leaves seem to be exuding some kind of sap. The bees have been all over it all day, so it wasnât just morning dew.
This sounds like the simple sort of mystery a local arborist could solve for us. If I find out, Iâll be sure and let yâall know, so you donât loose any sleep over it! đ
Kinda hard to stay motivated when weâre melting!
Luckily as mood boosters we have Hubbyâs homemade sparkling wine coolers. Itâs his own concoction, made from our own ânewâ winesâpear mixed with wild grapeâcomplete with bubbles! Itâs really tasty, not too sweet, and a lovely color. And bubbles!
Delicious!
The goats are still impressively darling and annoying and belligerent at once.
Even from a distance itâs hard from a photo to get a sense of how high up they really are!Very surprising the bees tolerate this, but they do!One of the many trees toppled during the tornado now makes a favorite hiding spot
Beautyberries and mist flower donât mind the late summer heat.
The garden still has many happy visitors, but Iâm not one of them!
Youâll find me inside with the air conditioning, an icy wine cooler, and a pile of books and movies to attend to!
A cyber-pal wrote to me today that she is finding it tough to find joy in her current circumstances. She is working long hours against the dystopian nightmare that continues relentlessly in her state.
There are many such silent heroes out there and a few of them (I know) read our wee blog.
Two little pieces of joy we are sending your way! With a big THANKS for all you are doing.
With all the obvious lies flying around the entire Mediated-Sphere, I got to reminiscing about my former best friend at university who was an unrepentant liar.
The story of the end of our friendship still hurts to recall, 30 years later. I lost not only her friendship at that time, but that of the circle of friends we shared as well. A double whammy, if you will.
While I understand there are always (at least) two sides to every story, I havenât spoken to her since those days, so how she recalls these events, or if she recalls them at all, I donât know, and I donât care.
Iâm recounting this story now because I see in the public in general there are FAR too many who are too hesitant to tear themselves away from liars and the clearly corrupt institutions they are running, which I know will be to their detriment in the long-term, as well as to the detriment of us all.
The longer you wait, the more entrenched, and accepted, the lies become.
I share this story as an appeal, yet another one, and a warning.
My little story is inconsequential to everyone else but me. But it does have an accompanying lesson from which anyone could benefit.
This friend and I were so tight we shared a studio apartment and were nearly inseparable for several years. I met her at the beginning of my freshman year, not long after I met my boyfriend.
To make a long and dramatic story short and succinctâshe was sleeping with my boyfriend all those years behind my back. After he and I broke up, she still didnât tell me about the two of them. Then she got pregnant by him, but I still didnât know. She asked me to borrow money and I asked why. She became very secretive.
I heard from another friend she had been reading my private journal, because she wanted to find out if I was still in love with the ex-boyfriend. I got suspicious and tried to talk with her several times about it all, but she waved me off each time. I refused her the money and she got livid. We got into a screaming fight. I was still baffled by it all because I didnât know the real issueâthat she was pregnant by my ex-boyfriend and wanted the money for an abortion.
Even after all that, I wouldâve forgiven her, if only she had come clean. She never did. I wrote in my journal, which I knew by then she was reading, that itâs not the lies that break trust so much as the refusal to face them even when confronted. The cover-up was worse than the initial lies.
Why? Because thatâs where I learned every single person in our circle of friends knew about their liaison except for me. For years.
It wasnât about the boyfriend, either. Iâd have handed him over with pleasure, had she ever asked. But then, thatâs the whole point for a narcissist, or someone intent on winning at any costâitâs not as fun if you donât steal itâfair and square.
She deflected, made excuses, minimized, tried to turn the tables. She showed no remorse, would take no accountability, refused to apologize, or even to listen to me, or show me a shred of compassion.
You might think it was the humiliation, or the betrayal, that caused me so much pain and that guided my decision-making after that point. But as painful as those were, that was not my breaking point.
No. My breaking point was being honest with myself about the content of their characters that had become glaringly obvious at that point, so much so that I could no longer stand to be around them. Any of them. They could not look me in the eye. They would not show an ounce of remorse or try to understand my pain or my position.
It was really, really hard, but I walked away.
I wish I could say that was the last time I made such a mistake. No again. It took another couple of decades for me to correct this issue. It took until the point I realized that it was my fault.
Of course I donât take any blame away from her, her behavior was deplorable. But, I also knew her moral standards were low. I knew sheâd done similar things to other friends. I just thought, because I was more loyal to her, a better friend, more honest, more committed, I could inspire her to not play me that way. I shouldâve known better.
Giving such people the benefit of the doubt, and second chances and third chances, is not loyalty, or strength, or courage. It is enabling liars and it is highly damaging to self-respect.
She went on to become a pharmaceutical rep. I have little doubt she has still not done enough soul searching to realize or regret yet another move down the low road.
And this is where we stand in America. We are being lied to by those all around us, by those who have positioned themselves as our betters, our leaders, our trusted officials, our media.
They are lying. The time for excuses is over, already decades ago. The problems we need to face will not be fixed by voting for the next Liar In Chief. To continue on with the charade at this late date makes you a collaborator by every definition, no longer able to claim innocence or ignorance.
LIVE NOT BY LIES âOn the day Solzhenitsyn was arrested, February, 12, 1974, he released the text of âLive Not by Lies.â The next day, he was exiled to the West, where he received a heroâs welcome. This moment marks the peak of his fame. Solzhenitsyn equates âliesâ with ideology, the illusion that human nature and society can be reshaped to predetermined specifications. And his last word before leaving his homeland urges Soviet citizens as individuals to refrain from cooperating with the regimeâs lies. Even the most timid can take this least demanding step toward spiritual independence. If many march together on this path of passive resistance, the whole inhuman system will totter and collapse.â
âQueen Elizardbeast is dead, long live King Charles?!
Yes, for those lucky souls who are so blissfully detached from the 24/7 newsfeeds that you haven’t heard yet, I bring you the news that the longest-reigning monarch in British history, Queen Elizabeth II, is dead.
It’s tempting to interpret the double rainbow that appeared over Buckingham Palace when Her Royal Lowness kicked the royal bucket as a sign that her death is indeed a present from God, butâas I am always at pains to observe upon such occasionsâthe death of an unrepentant sinner is no victory and there is no solace in the removal of but one of the Hydra’s many heads. If anything, the reign of King Charles will doubtless be even more ignoble than that of his mother.
Whatever the future may hold for the loyal subjects of His Royal Highness, the Great Reset-shilling, pedophile-befriending, carbon eugenics-pushing King Charles III, given the disheartening (if predictable) reaction of the normies to this latest royal passing, nothing could be timelier than an in-depth exploration of the lowlights of the British royal family. So, even though I am going to drop an 18,000 word, two-hour documentary conclusion in the next 24 hours(!!!), I have taken time out of my schedule to bring you this.
“Enjoy” is the wrong word, but you get the idea.â
