“We successfully got DVD hail!” He’s so excited! Is this guy working for the weather gods? The Texas Weather Modification Association perhaps? Or maybe Weather Modification, Inc.? A new startup with funding from the Gates Foundation?
I suppose they will soon be selling gardeners’ and homesteaders’ insurance. I’m really looking forward to the days I can list my squash on the future’s market so assholes like this can bet on it’s failure and cheer when he adds another 10 cents to his electronic wallet. I long for the new opportunity to fill out paperwork to get reimbursed 3 cents on the dollar, or rather, on the CBDCs: Was it crooked neck squash or zuccinni? Were the onions beyond the bulbing stage? Were the seeds purchased at a WEF-approved supplier? How much rainfall did the seeds receive in the initial 30-day growing period, so that we can deduct that from your refund?
Weather derivitives are already a big thing, so the insider trading when companies can boast about their crop and property destruction potential is bound to up the ante. But, it’s not war, don’t think of it as war.
It’s really about resilience and making communities stronger. And if the youth have a hoot while destroying their neighbors’ gardens, well, you know, boys will be boys!
What do you care about some lost work and produce when you can contribute to the future of science anyway? What are you, some kind of Luddite?!
I don’t follow this very popular homesteading channel, Off-Grid with Doug & Stacy, too chatty and hyperbolic for me, but that’s what gets the clicks, so more power to ’em. Yet somehow, the Algos knew to put this particular new episode prominently on my feed.
Natural beekeeping in horizontal hives!
It’s excellent! I first heard this beekeeper many years ago and am so glad to see he continues to promote natural beekeeping and adding to his informational website. He’s also added equipment, books and events, and if I still lived in Missouri, you can bet I’d have befriended him ages ago.
It really is a thrill for me to watch the growth of treatment-free beekeeping over the last decade. It used to be not only terribly difficult to find good information, but also it was treacherous. I’m not joking either. Natural beekeepers are the anti-vaxxers of the beekeeping world, with all the bullying, ridicule, and obnoxious bloviating to prove it, which I experienced for years with this simple preference.
I do not want Big Pharma livestock. It’s really not a crime, though you will be treated like a criminal to suggest it or admit that it’s your practice to most mainstream and commercial professionals. According to many of them, the fact that treatment-free beekeepers exist at all explains why their colonies are filled with diseases. It’s blind faith in The Science. And The Science is not rational.
Folks might be surprised to learn that the lifespans of pets and livestock has decreased sharply over the decades. Bees, like all the animals, are basically treated as a disposible commodity. One disgusted veterinarian who turned his practice to homeophathy complained about this in milk cows, but actually it can be observed in ALL livestock:
“While my cow patients in Wisconsin often lived well into their teens, some to over 20 years, the average California operator culled cows at 2 years old. They’d been pushed with so much grain and ever higher production goals that their health suffered and they were literally dispensed with when they couldn’t keep up.” (3) When “organic” dairy ain’t – by Will Falconer, DVMhttps://vitalanimal.substack.com/p/when-organic-dairy-aint
But that is clearly changing! It could be that more are recognizing the false science of Pig Pharma, finally. Or, that there is so much success now in the treatment-free circles, and so many more are starting to practice it, that the bullies in the business are starting to become outnumbered. That’s my hope anyway.
One commercial beekeeper replied to Leo’s inquiry with a common fact:
14:45 “If I stopped treating my bees, I’d lose 85% in a year . . .”
I would LOVE to try a skep hive!
That’s right! And plenty of beekeepers, commercial and hobby, have experienced that, unfortunately. I also had a very hard time in the beginning. It took a lot of failure and a lot of research.
Mostly it took conviction. Good health is not found in medications. It is achieved through wholesome practices, which are the same for bees as all of life: Clean living and being left to pursue the most natural ways as possible.
From the interview we learn Doug & Stacy had similar issues as I had when beginning in beekeeping, and it was through Leo’s work and presentations they understood why and began to change their practices with continued success. Leo insists, you don’t need to invest much money, contrary to popular opinion. You don’t need to keep buying bees to grow your apiary.
Treatment-free practices rely on the natural intelligence of the bees to care for themselves. We do not requeen when we make a colony split, requiring the bees to raise their own queen. This keeps all beekeeping local, as it should be.
One of our horizontal hives with an observation window.
Instinct of the local area grows in the colony from one generation to the next. Also contrary to popular opinion, the bees get more resilient with each generation when left to their own decision-making, ie. when to swarm, how much honey to store for the winter, when to build up brood in the local conditions, which queen to keep, and when to get rid of her.
Leo’s entire apiary was grown through trapping swarms and making splits. I’ve not had much success with swarms and will try to start following more of his advice for attracting them. You’ll actually have more success attracting swarms in less rural areas, as counter-intuitive as that might sound. But bees are a bit like deer in that regard, they are attracted to the closest and most abundant and varied food sources, which often means near where humans are residing.
While he uses horizontal hives, like I do, he also has some good advice for beekeepers in cold climates and hive designs which help keep colonies alive during long winters.
LOVE SWARMS: The Complete Guide to Attracting Honeybees
I once drove all the way to Arkansas on my search for treatment-free bees. This is what the car looked like when I arrived home! 😆
Unfortunately, after all that trouble, these bees also did not survive a full year. BTW, I was not stung once.
When I finally understood the importance of getting bees locally and allowing the weak colonies to die off, I finally had some success. But, it’s still a work in progress and I’m so happy for all the advice and expertise from those with more experience and success.
Strange days, indeed. I saw this image on a Youtube channel I listen to just for background music while I’m working. Though I do quite like some of it, I suspect it’s all AI-driven. So, the music is not played by musicians, the image is not the real picture of a beautiful personal library that exists in the actual world, that would be my fantasy library, in my own dream home.
I never expected the strangeness of life to increase with age. I expected the exact opposite in fact. When I was a child watching TV after school–the Mickey Mouse Club, Zoom, Bugs Bunny and Friends–I knew, even as a small child, that what I saw on TV was a fantasy world. Similar to when kids are watching a puppet show, they see a performance in front of them on a stage while they sit in the audience. Clearly pretend, even to a child.
It was not the real world where Mom went to work and my sister and I went to school, where we were learning real things about the real world.
That’s what I thought. As I teen I read a lot, but I was not attracted to most pop fiction, and not to the sci-fi/fantasy genre at all. I feel lucky to have grown up with many avid readers in the family, though we rarely read the same things.
It was my pragmatic side perhaps that made me believe that fantasy was for the children’s world and once we left childhood those things would be left behind as life got more real.
Of course I can witness now very clearly the error of my naive thinking, or lack of realistic foresight, or practical knowdedge of human nature, or the patterns of civilzations rises and falls, or whatever. I was wrong. Adults also prefer a fantasy-based reality, or have come to prefer one in the last generations.
Where we used to play grown-up as kids, now we play kids as grown-ups. Our politics read like old B-movie plots. Our actors look like cyborgs. Our ‘elites’ want us ingesting lab-concocted chemicals so badly they inject them into everything imaginable, from seeds, to every manner of foods, to the air and water and soil.
And now it seems the takeover of illusion over reality is nearly complete, as folks allow AI to conquer their minds. Engulfed in Total Immersive Illusion seems to be the end goal.
I had to ask Hubby if he thought the library in the image was AI generated. “Definitely AI” he replied after gazing at it for a split second.
I keep staring at it, imagining myself lounging on the couch. There are 4 or 5 little stacks of books around me, just 3 or 4 high each one, but I keep getting up to get another, and then another. So many books, so little time! The ladders to the upper stacks give me just enough exercise so my legs don’t cramp up and there’s an adjoining little breakfast nook, not visible here of course, where I have stashed a simple but elegant array of snacks–some pistachios and some smoked salmon and capers on crackers and a carafe of fruity, refreshing homemade sangria.
Back to the real world. It’s still right here. Here, where I have hundreds of books with no stacks for them. I got tired finally of the clutter of ugly book shelves in our tiny space and packed the vast majority of them into boxes where they sit stacked shoulder-height waiting . . .
Waiting perhaps for AI to come and build them a new home. Kind of like in the hugely popular TV program for adults of the 60s ‘I Dream of Jeannie’ who will rise out of the bottle and with the swing of her ponytail and nod of her head, grant us all our wishes.
Jeannie was so much better than AI though, she would never have used her powers for evil, that’s for sure. She was like the Mother Theresa of Genies. She was like the Easter Bunny who would sneak you chocolate eggs when you were in a Timeout because you pulled your sisters hair in order to be first to find the plastic egg, which was filled with coins, sometimes even a dollar. Not that you wouldn’t have found it first anyway, the hair pulling was just an extra bonus. Jeannie didn’t judge.
“Robot priests can recite prayers, perform funerals, and even comfort those experiencing a spiritual crisis.”
What do y’all think: Has the fantasy-based reality gone too far for your taste?
Mysterious to some. Known to a precious few. Invisble to others. Inconsequential to most.
The fundamental question remains: Do the origins matter?
Screenshot
And if you say they don’t, but the others say they do. Does that matter to you?
What do you care? Can another make you care? That is the ACTUAL question.
Such is the task of the new profession called Activism.
If I can get you to care about A today, and B tomorrow, and C next week, that makes me a better Activist.
Influence is Everything AIEIO And on this farm . . .
Like the serpent, provoking Or the embers, stoking The winds then evoking
Power, so they say The power to what? To influence The tides, the lives, the minds Terroire Territory
Space Outer space, deep space, near space Inner space
It’s all about that Great Big Race The Human Race The race against time, the race of space, the race for EVERYTHING THE race that begat the wars The wars against poverty, the war against bacteria, The war against hate Right before the war for Freedom
Elaborate spiral staircase, at the Nathaniel Russell House in South Carolina. Original image from Carol M. Highsmiths America, Library of Congress collection. Digitally enhanced by rawpixel.h
And that begat the Solutions Those for the soil and for the folk Those for peace And those for hope
Legacy or burden have you considered the difference? Gifts or curses does that difference matter?
What is a favor? What if your favor is not my flavor? Preferences Do they really matter?
The winds of change Gusts, sudden, and not exactly random A spiral sequence Tones the man cannot understand Infuriating and cleansing and inevitable HIM His hyme so diminished Rythme so consternated, disconfigurated So palpably deflated HIS never-ending upward spiral Circling the drain Such a Goddamn shame?
Question to ask the Assigned Sages of the modern day: How do you innovate your way out of a Death Cult?
Such a busy time of year already, made busier with our remodeling projects, but we always make time to stop and smell the roses.
And bow to the weather gods, or geoengineers, who have spared us this time, and after so much barking, we are grateful there was no bite. Before I sing our praises, let me acknowledge those further north who are biting the bullet this time around. Our picture perfect skies are so very rare, I don’t like to think about all that means.
We did prepare all we could for the worst, annoying as that was. Out came the row cover fabric again and the wheelbarrows full of logs to hold it down, after just having cleaned all that up and took it to storage the week before.
We expected a frost for sure.
All the pots had to be gathered to cover all the peppers and tomatoes. And considering it was so hot and humid and over 8o degrees when we were doing all of this, it felt more incongruent than snow along the coast of the Gulf of America. 😂
But, I can’t complain, because as I just said, we got very lucky. No hail, tornados, landocaines, flooding and we just barely scratched by the frost threshold.
Just look at that sky! I can’t tell you how long it’s been since seeing such a sight!
There is so much beauty and bounty, in nature, and in cyberspace too!
Just yesterday I was scrolling through my Youtube feed and about every 100 suggestions up pops a true gem, like this old Mexican lady cooking her heart out and sharing it with the world. This is the very best of the power that’s right at our fingertips, I truly believe that: The world’s people sharing about their cultures. The cuisines, the histories and myths, the music, the dance, the landscapes, the languages, the gardens, the architecture–and the ordinary folks sharing them. Unfortunately, as the AI gods have demonstrated, for every such miracle there are about 100 curses.
Make food not war!
There are the tiniest gems not to be missed through all the noise and all the neon glare.
And it seems like they are beckoning me to slow down and notice them.
What would you rather do . . . follow me around the garden, or do more of that thing you call work?
A plot of volunteer poke weed and garlic, as if they’re just screaming, we are here for your good health, so happy to be here, we keep returning for you!
Sometimes, when I least expect it, we learn how to grow together better. Like I was thinking of the old Southern trick to set out red-painted pebbles to fool the birds into keeping off the strawberries. I thought, I bet some well-placed breakfast radishes would have the same effect, and sure enough, it’s working. The birds have moved off that bed ever since those radishes started showing their little red tops, and bonus, we adore radishes, maybe even as much as strawberries.
We have been eating giant salads every day, with enough surplus for our neighbors.
Along the country roads all is flourishing. The bluebonnets are brilliant and I even caught a roadrunner, just barely.
Beep, beep!
Such gifts of beauty and bounty! What a precious, ephemeral time to infuse their bursting energy into our year ahead. What we put into it is what we’ll get out of it, just like life.
I hope your spring is being beautiful to y’all, too! Thanks for stopping by!
A flock, it is not. There will never be a revolution in America.
More like, when I say jump . . .
Kinda like Bugs Bunny getting his feet shot at while Yosemite Sam demands he ‘Dance!’. . .
It’s a relationship.
Americans will never revolt. They will never rebel. I’m not talking our military here, I’m talking the people, the masses, who will gladly vote for war if they are commanded by their team, but who will never en masse lift a finger in inconvenience to support it. A placard, perhaps. But not a pinky finger otherwise.
Why? This man nails it and it’s so spot on I fear reposting it. Truth bombs this huge are usually dropped by assets. Even listening can get you on a list, I’m sure. Because, America is so damn free.
But this murdering convert to Islam is correct nonetheless. Our guns can’t save us from, or in, this battle. We have already lost. We were conquered from within long before this current administration. We do not have the heart to rebel because rebellion and revolution require artists, the kind of artists, and warriors, who cannot be bought. We don’t have that, we haven’t had that for a long time now. We have conformity, collusion, corruption and therefore we’ve got what we deserve. Politics is downstream from culture.
Start at the 1:15 mark, it’s only about 10 minutes, and it’s brutal. Not for the feight of heart, I’m afraid, but absolutely the truth as I see it. Listen and weep, or not.
Still, no time. I’ve lost a month, maybe two, in projects and to-do. Now I risk missing the whole spring to more of the same. And yet, in spring, it’s never all that bad.
There will always be time for baking delicious bread, and making fabulous cheese. Even in the midst of kitchen face-lift chaos, the healthy food must go on.
Quinoa-rosemary sourdough made with potato water Fantastic!
Still, no time, but still want to share some quick happy snaps and briefest of updates, because I’d hate to be totally forgotten before even gone! 😊
It was a beautiful day, so I decided to take the scenic route to the herdshare where I pick up one gallon of raw milk at the cost of $15, that’s about a 1 hour round-trip. On this day, it took more like 3, with multiple occasions for nearly getting stuck in the mud. But it was very scenic and an adventure to boot!
Excuse me, sir, might I pass?
Apparently they get much more rain than we do and the scenic route proved impassable.
But the cows didn’t seem to mind.
Meanwhile back on the wee homestead, Patty has had a big brood!
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And the wild cherry has never looked so good! I wish I could get a better pic.
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We’re spending so much on our interior face-lift the roosters are taking over, no time to reduce their numbers, the benefit being, no sleeping in.
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The garden is growing so fast, and the citrus and magnolias I planted last year are just now sprouting. But all that for another post, too much to do!
Hope all’s springing with y’all, thanks for stopping by!
Another fixer-upper on the route to my herdshare. Looks a bit over our pay grade.
How about this one, also on the route?
Destined to become a Black Heritage museum, so they say! 😆
What is the difference between Hope, and Hopium? There’s a fuzzy line and it’s very easy to misjudge, but it’s located somewhere between: “Yay, Trump will save us all from $11/dozen eggs!” And “We should start a chicken mega-ranch.”
If those two meet in the middle of the road, might creative minds find that they’ve absent-mindedly crossed with logic and conclude a few laying hens might be just the ticket? A bit of self-sufficiency, why not? After all, it’s not rocket science . . .
Joel Salatin exposes the WEF agenda! “Josh Sigurdson talks with Joel Salatin of Polyface Farms, an entrepreneur and farmer who for years has fought against Monsanto, factory farming and dependence pushing for people to homestead and/or farm and not be dependent on the system. We previously interviewed Joel in 2017 regarding Monsanto. Now, 8 years later, we delve into the massively expanded technocratic grid as more than ever, people are dependent on grocery stores, the grid and AI, weakened by design. The World Economic Forum agenda is to destroy self sustainability and make people weak slaves to technocracy. Eventually they want food rations and carbon credit scores. They’re already being rolled out to some degree and with the 2024 United Nations Pact For The Future, this problem is encroaching quicker than ever. The climate lobby attempting to bring down farms is more alive than ever. There are solutions however which Joel Salatin has spent decades teaching people. There is also a rumor circulating that Joel Salatin was picked to head the USDA. He explains this and more in this interview.”
Though it is the gateway livestock, and that’s official, I’ve even heard it repeated by the official fact-checkers at NASA.
Don’t worry, more government will save us! They will VAXX this FLU away, similar to the way they spray on the weather!
Respiratory diseases? I can’t imagine how that might be happening! So baffling!
But as James Corbett points out, chickens are the simple solution, but not necessarily the Easy one.
Most folks will take the easy way out, drink the Kool-aid, puff the Hopium, and exclaim RFKJ is here to save the day. Cheap eggs and healthy injections on the way!
A post for Valentine’s Day, something I’ve never done before, as far as I recall.
I imagine it as an Ode to Narcissus, which is my own personal meaning attached to this holiday. Through the Greek myth we are told that Narcissus fell in love with his reflection in a pool of water and up to modern times there are myriad explorations for what that represents.
Most often in our modern era it’s considered a negative thing—a forsaking of the beloved or even God, or the destructive self-love of a tyrannical ego, or the folly of youth.
Echo and Narcissus, oil on canvas by Nicolas Poussin, 1627 (Louvre, Paris)
But for myself, I imagine its original intent as being more pure and innocent. I don’t imagine the Greek myths were to be taken as literal stories of living people and Gods, but rather the mysteries and processes of Nature.
Eros is Cupid, but I imagine that what’s being unveiled between these 3 figures is depicting the process, the mystery, the intimate and delicate balance with Cupid (Eros) manifesting through Narcissus’ love of beauty and pleasure.
That something bigger than we mere mortals is occurring when we fall in love, sometimes even against our own will, awakens and evokes the spirit of Eros. A natural force so powerful we think of it as a drug, capable of making us behave in uncharacteristic, undesirable and even dangerous ways.
Narcissus is in love with love, which is to say, in love with life.
In the water, a classic symbol of emotion, he truly saw himself in the spirit of divine love.
The latest modern remaking of The Picture of Dorian Gray.
What came after that initial myth were the modern cultural assaults and chronic misunderstandings cursing him with egoism, arrogance, selfishness, cruelty, taken to the extremes of self-absorption, self-loathing and eventually self-destruction, as in The Picture of Dorian Gray. Eros as uncontrolled self-obsession.
My belief is that to fall in love with anything, or anyone, is to fall in love with oneself; that is, an aspect of one’s own reflection. Just as Narcissus is our first flower to appear in spring (it’s blooming right now in fact) Narcissus symbolizes the coming reawakening of all our natural pleasures as spring approaches and life is renewed.
Before the Easter ritual of fecundity, first the pair must meet, and fall in love.
In celebrating the courting rituals, it’s the one holiday that’s not considered a family affair, and conjures an atypical respect for intimacy in our mass-loving modern culture.
To me it is a holiday of guilty pleasures, quirky pursuits, strange beliefs and peculiar tastes.
What’s your pleasure? Do you indulge it enough? Or perhaps, too much? Narcissus wants to know!
Do you prefer the cake or the icing?
Immediate reward or delayed gratification?
Are you the driver or the passenger?
Is ‘fun’ the same as pleasure?
Is your pleasure a particpatory adventure, or to be delivered on a silver tray?
Active or passive?
Photography or painting? Reading or writing? Listening or singing?Watching or playing? Cooking or eating? Looking or being seen?
Is there one without the other? Is there the other without the one?
A personal story of guilty pleasures.
A fine restaurant, with a fine atmosphere, and fine company, is my guiltiest pleasure of all. I’d spend lavishly without reserve, relish with abandon, obsess over every detail, waste hours, or weekends without a second thought. Dionysus takes the reigns when I experience such exquisite care, such regard for pleasure and beauty, I’m easily swept away. (And unfortunately, just as easily disappointed.).
Hubby did not know that about me. How could he possibly, he’d only known me a week or so.
Perhaps it’s not such an unusual thing, considering the love affair with food that’s shared across seemingly all cultures, if not always appreciated to the same degree with all people.
I’ll forever cherish the singular date when Hubby won me over, especially because I know the chances of something remotely similar ever happening again are microscopic. It was one of those one in a million evolutionary occurrences, kind of like the Big Bang.
As we all know, it just takes one miracle.
He planned it to the letter—chose the best restaurant, actually went there in advance to choose the best table overlooking the water, spoke to the chef personally, tipped the maitre’d in advance.
Who does that? I mean, I would probably, but who else? Only in the movies, right?
It wasn’t on Valentine’s Day, there was no chocolate or champagne. But I did drink too much, and he swiftly transformed into my white knight on a scooter. He was the crafter of the most perfectly romantic night of my life. And romantic is not something he’s ever aspired to, by any standards, and by his own admission.
Like I said, just one miracle. Perhaps a little help from Cupid?
I was ho-hum before that. Not that he wasn’t a good catch, of course. Certainly loads of divorced 30-something women are attracted to a man who finds it to be bragging material that his belongings fit into a backpack with few aspirations besides spending half the year in a hammock on a Thai beach.
We had a lot in common, as in we were both fairly uncommon vagabonds. Not trust-fund kids or military brats, that was most common in the ex-pat scenes in those days. We worked and scrimped and hustled and snubbed our noses at such privilege, when we could afford to. Otherwise we enjoyed their parties and their company and their contacts.
We met at one such fancy affair, and he wasn’t my type, that’s how I saw it in the moment. Not because of any of those previously mentioned assets, those I actually found pretty charming, especially that he would be bragging on them with a woman he’d just met. I was far more impressed with his stories of rugged adventure than any of other’s comfort and privilege.
Not our photo, though we do have great ones, somewhere. This one is from kingscup.com
But I was just barely out of another failed relationship; I just wasn’t on the market, according to me.
He perceived otherwise. I dare say, I have never been pursued with such seemingly carefree precision. He is/was not ever a lady’s man, had less relationship experience than me, and was not there looking for love.
It didn’t help that my just-failed relationship was with a photographer, and that he was there as another photographer’s assistant. Of course I noticed he was fit and handsome and friendly and funny. I imagined we could become friends, maybe even friends with benefits. My imagination stopped there.
This is a stock photo, the resorts we stayed in were even more glorious.
We bumped into each other often, as would be expected, since we were all covering the Phuket King’s Cup Regatta. They had us all staying in top resorts, sailing the seas by day and attending parties every night. It was amazing and overwhelming and so deliciously extravagant and foreign.
Even under such conditions, he was able to corral my attentions, redirect my intentions, and totally capture my life’s trajectory (as dismal as that was looking at the time considering I was living in an old, drafty single-wide in my dad’s trailer park in Mena, Arkansas.)
Though I’m sure he won’t admit it and questions who was doing the seducing, I will still insist, it surely wasn’t me. Narcissus, perhaps?
We are told it’s human nature to pursue pleasure and to recoil from pain. But all around us we have plenty of evidence that’s not the case at all. In honest observation it looks much more true that pain and pleasure have a very mysterious relationship that is quite unique to each individual.
I personally will not allow the Dorian Gray’s of the world to eternally spoil the beauty of Narcissus, so I celebrate Valentine’s Day as a gateway into the new season’s promise of pleasure.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all the Lovers of Love, Beauty, Pleasure and Life!
It’s been quite a long time since an update on the wee homestead projects and activities; it’s hard to know where to start! How about, for consistency sake, I bitch about the weather for a bit, and then move along to better tidings.
Of course the geoengineered chem-filled skies continue, as does our Yo-Yo season (formerly known as winter). We are using the air conditioning now, it’s been 80 degrees for days.
Buttercup is especially sensitive to the YoYo, to the point of regular getting seizures at such times, also lethargic and losing her appetite.
Buttercup hiding in her box all day.
There was of course the lows not long ago in the 20s and I was very concerned for the newly planted citrus. We employed quite the set up of lights and covers and they faired very well, I’m happy to report.
Invasion of Asian beetles on the citrus cover
But there has been a bad invasion of these awful beetles, which we’re vacuuming off the ceiling multiple times a day. Not to be confused with the garden-friend, the lovely little lady bugs, NO, these little beasts are really nasty. They infest, as obvious from the photos, and they bite, and as if that’s not enough, they stink.
I don’t like when folks call them lady bugs, they are not at all ladylike, so I try to correct them anytime I hear complaints, which is more often than you might think. The reaction I get is much more open and accepting than when I inform them about the manufactured weather.
Old lettuce bolting, replacing with new lettuce started under lights indoors, along with broccoli and cauliflower.
It does keep us on our toes, dealing with the Yo-Yo. Lettuce and herbs bolt prematurely quite often, seedlings come up then freeze or wither. We never know from week to week what to expect or how to plan.
I don’t normally have such a fancy setup, but these trays were gifted to me and they’re working quite well germinating some lobelia and snap dragons.
My indoor lights and heating mats make things easier, as does the row cover in the garden, but it is constant juggling. And if I miss a beat, death. Like happened with the Mexican oregano I was so proud of. I forgot about it outside one night when it frosted. Very disappointing considering our long journey of discovery, and how long I babied those few little sprouts, trying to anticipate their every need, carting them inside for warmth, then outside for sun and wind, and just when they were getting their legs, gone. All my fault.
Well, except for the geoengineers, because I wouldn’t be doing this constant refrain if our weather was consistent or predictable or seasonal.
I’ve tried twice since then to sprout the herb again with no luck. I will succeed eventually, of course, we’ve come too far in our quest to fail. The Mexican oregano has a long tale in these parts. Failure is not an option. More on that in the last HH post, if you like. https://kenshohomestead.org/2024/11/14/homestead-happenings-43/
I’d like to say it was the same with the milk quest. Unfortunately, I’m not nearly as confident; I feel failure is probably inevitable and maybe even imminent. For the time being I’m counting my blessings I’ve found another (perhaps temporary) source. Last time I was complaining about the cost, this one is even more expensive at $15/gallon. At that price I’m not going to be experimenting with any new cheeses, that’s for sure. To make cheese at all is not really feasible, except for the most delicious of selections—Camembert. Otherwise the precious commodity goes toward morning coffee, ice cream, and buttermilk for recipes and the extended expiration date.
Camembert to be draining before salting
I’ve been doing continued research on the topic of raw milk and what’s available and in general, where’s the market vibe. I found one young entrepreneur with a private herdshare selling cheese for $25 a pound. (A Herdshare Agreement or a Grade A license from the state are the only ways to sell raw milk in Texas legally.).
With my new herdshare deal I can buy more milk for cheesemaking, if I’m willing to pay $15/gallon. Considering the hard cheeses I typically made were 5 gallons ideally (better for aging in less than optimal conditions), that’s a really expensive cheese.
Certainly what can be made on-site are far better cheeses than can be bought at the store; that’s why I started making cheese in the first place. But still, it’s really hard to justify all that work, and expense, when we can still buy organic cheese for about $8/pound.
I will splurge one time in late spring, if possible, when the grass is thick and so the milk most rich. And we do still have two goats, hopefully pregnant, so there’s a small hope of cheesemaking in my future, if all goes well.
Moving on to the garden, the garlic is going strong and I’ve just got the onions in, 3 big rows of each. The garlic we plant is elephant garlic which does so much better here than any other variety I’ve tried, and I’ve tried lots. These are local for over a decade now and their productivity has yet to disappoint.
The onions are from purchased sets and they normally do well, though some years are a bust, like last year. I also started some from seed under lights, to compare if they are more consistent and adaptable, because the sets have gotten pricey in recent years and it’s irritating to pay good money for possible failure. Onions do not like Yo-Yo weather, but then again, who or what really does?
At least some seem to tolerate it better than others. We’ve got a couple of ‘oyster trees’ that are bringing us regular tasty gifts.
I’ve also tried a couple new things that have been long on my list. There’s the soap that’s just now cured, a bit earlier than I’d read is typical. I’m really pleased with it! It lathers very well and the scent is rather sensuous. My intention was something earthy and erotic, and I think I succeeded.
I got the sensual part down, now I need to up the aesthetic! Trust me, looks are deceiving here, I just need better molds! Never underestimate the power of packaging, eh?
After finishing up slaughter season and chopping up downed trees for a month, Hubby has moved on to a far more desirable and needed project, according to me, our kitchen! Yippie!
We’ve needed new countertops badly for many years, ours have been well-worn in 40 years, especially since we’ve gotten here and the space went from softly used a few times a year, to a daily year-round assault. It’s actually pretty impressive the counters aren’t near dust by now, considering how quickly more modern materials fall apart.
New island done, now for the hard part.
Old, ugly, not square or plumb . . . Good times coming in Hubby’s near future!
New countertops got us on a roll and now we’re planning new light fixtures and maybe even a new paint job. Big ideas, perhaps not backed up by time or commitment.
Those big ideas, I’m full of ‘em! In my mind the kitchen’s already painted and my next project is to paint the table, which I’ve wanted (and once tried) to do for as long as we’ve had it. I can imagine I might have a table with a surface that looked something like this . . .
But I’d be perfectly willing to settle for this . . .
Or this . . .
So, after I repaint the kitchen in the few spare moments between juggling plants in YoYo season, I acquire the skills of an artist, and paint something I can really be proud of . . .
Whenever I’m finally able to manage that, y’all will be the first to know!
In the meantime, here’s where we were at in the last update . . .
