Wheel of Fortune III: My First Swarm

What an exciting day, indeed!  I can hardly contain myself.  Not only did I catch my first swarm, but it was in my own garden!  Soo, another miracle?

Like I said in my first Wheel of Fortune posts, I think miracles are mostly amazing synchronicities that turn out in one’s favor.  The distance between it becoming a tragedy or a miracle is 33 degrees, give or take.  Or so I’m guessing.

What had to come together for the easiest, beginner’s luck swarm experience, perhaps ever, in the history of East Texas?!

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First, Handy Hubby had to be not only home, which happens only half the year, but also helping me in the garden, which happened this morning for the first time in months.  He’s been very busy finishing the fencing for the expanded pasture, which he did just finish, and it’s a beautiful accomplishment for which I’m also excited and sending him big applause.  Then, he outdid himself, once again, in his usual non-chalant manner.

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He said something incomprehensible to me from the back of the garden, I said what, he said, again, something incomprehensible, followed by ‘swarm’, which I did hear, but that was still confusing because the likelihood of a bee swarm at the back of the garden didn’t register at all, so I assumed he meant more ants, that is fire ants, that are so bad this spring we’ve succumbed to poisoning them, with manufactured chemicals. No, I’m not proud.

“Just come here,” he urged, which made me think it must really be an exceptionally impressive ant hill, not that surprising.

But no!  A decent sized swarm, right there, ripe for the picking.  And, Handy Hubby right there to help, and their discoverer.

 

We maneuvered them from the fence to the hive without a hitch.

Might it have been from one of our own hives?  Possibly, but that doesn’t diminish the joy even slightly.  They are now happily re-nesting in a top-bar hive which had mysteriously died a month ago, very much to my disappointment.  I never found the time to post about that, though I’d planned to.

What a difference a magical month can make!

 

Take Control of Your Soul

“Don’t let them take your mind, man.”  Conspiracy Music Guru (aka Flat Earth Man)

That tablet, that TV, that hand-held radiation device.  Put it down.  Take a walk.  Let me try to inspire that action.

A68FCAFD-D6B5-4566-826B-5C44594BCB59Texas squaw weed, the bees like it, stop mowing it and spraying it with poison, please.

This sh*t, my greatest garden/forest nemesis, I pull it, smash it, dig it up, even spray it, with sadistic pleasure.  Luckily, sheep and goats love it, so soon it will go from invasive weapon of torture to practically eradicated effortlessly on this wee homestead.

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Poison ivy, run for your life!

Don’t let them take your mind.  You think Flat Earth theory is weird?  What about that which you are living right now, seem weird at all?  Natural?  Normal? Do you like the world you’re co-creating all around you?

There’s another world.  There’s another way.  It doesn’t have to be like this.  Trade your prison walls for a glimpse of what’s really REAL.

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Serviceberry, Juneberry, Amalanchier arborosa, ‘discovered’ on our property for the first time, always something new!

Pretend for one hour the earth is flat, right beneath your feet, the screen is an illusion, cyberspace is just that, space.  Walk on the flat earth under your feet and feel what life on a flat earth feels like, just for an hour, just because, really, what else of consequence are you really doing right now?

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Vetch, another spring-blooming so-called ‘nuisance’ weed the bees like, but the farmers don’t.

Mullein makes great toilet paper, fyi.  Try shopping your local forest.  😉

mullein

 

Interviewed by Crrow777

This is a revisit from over a year ago, because, I still really love these guys.  I was nervous as all hell, I can hear it clearly in my voice, they were the smooth professionals at every level, trying to help me along.

What a humbling pleasure it is and was to have had the opportunity to be honest and awkward before two real gentlemen doing their best to make me look good!

The present crisis is no mystery to them, or to us here on the wee homestead.  This is what we’ve been preparing for and maybe now a few more understand how crucial is self-reliance and local sovereignty.  I repost it because I suspect more will be understanding now how much we need to get back to basics.

Never been a better time to get growing! 🙂

Wheel of Fortune (part 2)

I think much of the time what we are apt to call a miracle is actually uncanny synchronicity in one’s favor.  One of the many misfortunes of 2019 for us on the wee homestead was our young ram got fatally wounded just two days after introducing him to his harem. 

From a financial standpoint this is unfortunate, because not only did we purchase him, but we’d also been feeding him for several months by then.  More than the money though, it was a sad and at the time mysterious accident, which I wrote about here.

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After some time and reflection we figured what must’ve happened to the poor guy was that he got between our boar and his food and got himself gored, right in the gut.  That’s how we found him, still walking around, with his guts coming out.  He hadn’t even noticed yet.

For anyone out there who’s considering getting pigs someday, take note, never get between a boar and his food or his harem, no matter how docile and even friendly that boar might seem normally.

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In fact, the same friend who sold us our Red Wattles sold another friendly boar to a woman who made that awful mistake.  This was a terrifying situation for her, I can imagine, when she, alone at home, got gored by the boar in the thigh.  She had to crawl back from the corral to her car and drive herself to the ER.  She lost so much blood she nearly died, had serious surgery followed by six months of rehab.  A word to the wise.

But here’s the miraculous part of the story.  In just two days of freedom, that young ram got some real action going!  We thought we’d have a lamb-less spring, and we are tickled pink that’s not the case.

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The chances of this happening are slimmer than most might imagine.  He was working against great odds, in fact.  He hadn’t mingled with the girls previously, and they showed no interest in him at all when he joined their posse.  The older ones were downright rude to him, the younger ones very apprehensive. 

He showed immense interest, of course, but still, he must’ve been very persistent in a very short time. And, the chances they would happen to be cycling right then, well we figured there wasn’t any hope.

Nature’s little miracles are blessings indeed.  🙂

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Slow and Low

Not only do I show my age with this line, I also show my very poor taste in music during my university years.   But, I did always love that line from the Beastie Boys:  “Slow and low, that is the tempo.”

I repeat it to myself now because I know after a year like we had last year, this year for us on the wee homestead needs to be less work, no new projects, and more deep diving into those tasks, learning and activities we deem most necessary for the critters and the gardens, and most conducive to our own personal well-being.

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This old fart agrees—slow and low!

This morning I stood for a while under our beautifully-blooming old pear trees bursting with lively buzzing—so much noisy activity was actually soothing, peaceful, motivating— there’s such a calm diligence in the bees’ seeming frenzy.

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Now there’s some happy worker bees!

Winter’s not over yet, and we had what seems to be now the new-normal of continual weather whiplash, still I’m thrilled to report all our hives have made it so far, on a completely treatment-free program. Yippie!

In slow and low tempo we make a big stink of every success, small, medium, or large. 🙂

This is my favorite time of year for making pesto and chimichurra from foraged ‘weeds’.  Making pesto in summer when everything else in the garden is demanding attention is not nearly as pleasant as crawling through the flourishing green beds snipping chickweed, violets, henbit, and more.  Here’s an old post with links and recipes, if this is the year you want to try it for yourself.

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Don’t see weeds, see pesto!

Handy Hubby is soon on vacation for six weeks—the best time of year for us here!  He’ll be wrapping up the fencing for the second pasture, and helping me redo the garden drip irrigation (neither being his preferred jobs by a long shot, thanks lovey, our greatest and most necessary trooper!)

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Downed trees from the spring ‘tornado’ opened up our view to the corral, a definite silver lining.

In tough times it helps me to focus on the big picture; it helps Hubby to put his proverbial nose to the grindstone—that’s a damn good recipe for wholesome collaboration, and the perfect environment for talking past each other.  All the more reason that slow and low will be the tempo.

Philosopher-homesteaders, don’t know this man yet?  Appalachian wise man for deep thinking.

 

Just Do Better

Happy Holidays, y’all!  The passing of this year is quite welcomed for us.  It’s been our toughest year on the wee homestead by far.  There were even a few times we discussed giving in and packing up.

We moved here in 2009, after Hurricane Ike, having purchased raw land in 2006, after Hurricane Katrina.  It’s the new normal, I guess, that our memory is set by weather disasters.  Now 2019 will be marked as the year of the manufactured storm bombs: crazy tornado and giant hail.

Judging from the amped-up geoengineering agendas, who knows what next spring will bring—floods, fires, more ‘tornados’, unprecedented lightening storms, maybe a land cyclone or two—certainly continued weather whiplash will remain on the menu.

I don’t imagine it’s possible to prepare for every potential catastrophe, but still, we’re staying put.  It’s not that we’re gluttons for punishment, or like to live dangerously, or are too stubborn to see the writing on the wall.  It’s not even that we’ve come too far to turn back now, having learned so many of the essential homesteading skills, having devoted so much blood, sweat and tears, not to mention $$, into this lifetime project.

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We bought the neighboring property that had a nearly abandoned cottage, hauled off the old junk and then the real work began—paint, windows, doors, siding, deck, etc. And after the tornado, a new roof.

It’s for love.  Love of the land, the nature, the work, the critters, the learning, the lifestyle, and of course, love for each other.  Where else would two such misfits fit except in the woods, I wonder?

When there’s no turning back, and as we’re too young yet to sit still, but too old to start over, the best option left is to up-skill.  So, that’s what we’re doing.

Handy Hubby has transformed his butchering talents from mediocre to practically professional with the help of the Scott Rea Project.  It is truly impressive, especially considering  what big jobs he makes work in our very small space.

I’m following his lead by upgrading my own culinary crafts to include more traditional fare, like offal, which really isn’t so awful at all!  This’ll be my last bad pun in this post, I promise, even though I find them offally hilarious.

I don’t really follow recipes, but I’ve been finding guidance and inspiration from Of Goats and Greens and Weston A. Price.  I recently made a rather delicious Lamb Liver Loaf and an offal salad of heart and tongue. (FYI, it does not taste like chicken.)

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The upturned oaks have become the perfect microclimate for Jack-O-Lanterns (Omphalotus olearius), not edible, but an appreciated gift for a friend who dyes her own yarn.
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The hedgehog baked and the pulcherrimum as centerpiece
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An edible favorite: the hedgehog (Hericium erinaceus). And a ‘steccherinum pulcherrimum’ which means ‘appearing beautiful’

I’ll also be doing more foraging with the help of The Forager Chef  and a bookshelf full of expertise on mushroom hunting, wild plants and herbs, traditional cooking and healing.  I’m more committed than ever in holding space for, and gaining knowledge of, the ancestral arts and crafts that were missing from my childhood, and indeed for most of us for many generations in this country.

I’m not going to share any lame platitudes about silver linings and growth opportunities, because that’s slave-speak socially engineered by the faux-authorities to assure the rabble don’t complain about their lot in life.  I intend to continue my fair share of complaining, and then some.

But, I will offer this cliché instead—It ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings!  And this lady’s got no plans to plump up any further, or join the choir.

May all your storms be weathered, and all that’s good get better.  Here’s to life, here’s to love, here’s to you . . .”

 

Free Tea!

I had a bunch of ladies over from our community stitching group and offered them a taste of our homemade wine and foraged tea.  The wine was hit and miss, most of the ladies being teetotalers.  The tea though was a big hit.  Much to my surprise, while most of them were country-raised, none of them had ever heard of making tea from two of the most common sources imaginable: pine needles and yaupon.

Foraging health
The Amazing All-Purpose Pine Needle Tea – Dave’s Garden

A sure cure for scurvy; a remedy for cold, flu, obesity, dementia, bladder, and kidney issues; antidepressant; anti-hypertensive; anti-tumor; render chemotherapy less toxic to patients, and many more potential health improvements and nutritional benefits, can all be found in the Christmas tree you dispose of yearly!”

5 Incredible Benefits of Pine | Organic Facts

The most interesting health benefits of pine include its ability to boost the immune system, improve vision health, stimulate circulation, protect against pathogens, and improve respiratory health.”

The yaupon surprised them even more than the pine, because around here it’s so prolific they are treated like annoying weeds much of the time.  (Maybe that’s because they don’t realize how much the bees love them in their early spring bloom period.).

In some areas you’ll need to be sure not to confuse yaupon with Japanese privet, which is a popular landscaping shrub, but poisonous.

Benefits of Yaupon Tea

Yaupon tea is a tea made from the dried leaves of the yaupon holly tree, which is scientifically known as Ilex vomitoria. This type of holly tree is native to the southeastern region of North America and was once used as an emetic and a ceremonial tea for numerous Native American tribes. The tea is also closely related to yerba mate tea and has many of the same active ingredients and nutrients.

I also make tea with sassafras, mullein, rose hips, elderberries, sumac, and lots of other foraged goodies. Healthy and delicious, especially after you add the local honey, of course.

Foraging Texas has a great list with lots of common plants not just in Texas.

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Planned Obsolescence Rockefeller Style

Not just doomed to fail, but designed, then built, expressly to fail.

SMART cities are Agenda 21/2030 cities, NLP (neuro-linguistic programming) buzzwords include: “sustainable,” “resilient,” “connected,” “hi-tech” — as cool and cosmopolitan as the marketers try to make them sound, the reality is the polar opposite.  These cities are death traps and the Globalists want it that way.

Common sense question:  If ‘resilience’ were really the goal, why continue to rebuild,  incessantly, in places like Houston and New Orleans, and other fire-prone areas, or flood and hurricane prone areas?

I’ve never called myself a ‘doomsdayer’ among the many things I call myself, but I think I might start. 

It’s clear to see the Globalists’ get-rich-forever plan is alive and thriving after my recent trip to Dallas.  Of course, I’ve seen changes in our rural area as well, but it’s more nuanced: road construction, new fancy schools, increased consumerism, a noticeable influx of immigration in the surrounding small cities.

But Dallas, whoa!  From here on the wee homestead to there, as to Houston, or Austin, is as big a contrast as most any three-hour tours could take you today, I imagine.

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http://www.america2050.org/texas_triangle.html

 

I traveled alone, which I like to do, even though it often feels weird and lonely. 

“Weird” was a theme, considering one of my destinations was the Flat Earth conference.  Owen Benjamin was the comic crowd pleaser, me excluded.  He tenderly refers to the conference as “The Island of Misfit Toys.”

Then from Flat Earth to Ancestral Earth, for the Wise Traditions conference, coincidentally just 20 minutes away.

Coincidence, or synchronicity, was another theme.  More on that later, maybe.

For the moment though, here’s why I now have no doubt these SMART cities are for corralling human livestock for future culling.  The most basic logic, based on clear data that anyone could see, if they would just look.

Weather modification exists.  It’s not being used for the benefit of the populace.  The cities do not have their own food sources.  They rely on electricity to function already and will become even more vulnerable with IOT (Internet of Things) and the 5G grid. 

Both weather modification and 5G rely on altering the atmosphere through manipulation of frequencies, so as these systems attempt to co-exist in densely populated areas, we are in dangerous and uncharted territory. Many claim, lethal territory.

Because I met several awesome folks at each conference, I thought maybe, hopefully, they might look me up, and be reading now, and wondering if I have any quick bird’s eye perspective on my takeaway from each event.

Of course I do.

Of Flat Earth: The map is not the territory.
Of Wise Traditions: Look up.

Of Strategy, for us all: Know the enemy, know thyself.

 

 

The Real World

So, I was at the laundromat again on Friday learning about life.  I’m happy we’ll finally be getting our new washer this month, after a taxing but novel summer of informative observations.

I’m actually a bit thankful our last washing machine was such a complete piece of crap.  That ‘Made in America’ logo on the side should be designed with far less pride, seems to me.

People-watching at the laundromat, located in the small city nearest us, population less than 19,000, is not like people-watching somewhere like the airport or the train station, or in a big city.  There’s no bustling around, no stressed out complaining, no strained glances at watches and clocks.

I found myself thinking repeatedly, “Are these the nicest folk you could ever meet?  Or just average folk?”

Because, when watching the media—whether the news or series or movies—one is often led to believe there’s a good deal of multicultural strife in lower income environments in this country.

This last time I was the only white person there, besides the owner.  Several women were chatting away in Spanish.  One black man, Nigerian I believe, judging by his dress, car and manners, stopped what he was doing twice in order to open the door for me.  Another gentlemen, Mexican, offered me his dryer, which was still piping hot with six minutes left on the timer. I happily accepted.

A few small kids were annoying, but that’s to be expected anywhere.

I like to go to the Mexican restaurant across the street afterward.  It started off as a taqueria with a line around the building just a few years ago, and has slowly expanded into a real restaurant, a hopping hot spot that seems to have a new addition built every month.  It’s run by a very pleasant and hard-working Mexican family and is full of gringos and immigrants alike, often sitting together.

I sometimes go to the grocery store too, also in this fairly diverse neighborhood.  I see lots of friendly smiles and neighborly encounters and a generally good mood among folks.  Sometimes this is surprising, because I can see that many are quite visibly ill, and a good many more are obviously terminally unhealthy.  The line at the pharmacy counter is usually the longest one.  They’re actively promoting the flu shot at the moment.

As I wait in the checkout line, and watch, I wonder:

What if they knew our “Smart Grid Space Fence Lockdown Surveillance System Police State Mega-Regions” will be toxic hellholes of farmed humans, by design?!

Remarkably (not), the newer the immigrant the healthier they look.  I often find myself wondering, had they known the truth about this country, and not just the daily variety show of propaganda our media exports worldwide, would they still choose to come here?

If they knew the vaccines are toxic and soon to be mandatory nationwide.
If they knew medical experimentation was justified from the highest levels and Disaster Corporatism the new and accepted normal.
If they knew the government and global corporations run everything hand-in-glove, just like a mafia, and the individual is powerless against them.
Would they still covet the ‘American Dream’?

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If they saw what I see, what many of us see, actually—that we are a country at war with the world, and with nature, and presumably between classes and races, but most especially within our own minds, our own realities—would they still choose to bloody their hands and souls in our epic global messes?

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A Futile Effort to End War and the Violent Insanity of the State https://kurtnimmo.blog/2019/11/01/a-futile-effort-to-end-war-and-the-violent-insanity-of-the-state/

“I began to realize in 1970, as did millions of other eighteen-year-old American males, that the government considered me little more than a dispensable body to be kidnapped and turned into a bullet-stopping slave.”

“The Pentagon devised a new tactic. Instead of drafting middle-class kids, they made “military service” “voluntary,” in other words only the desperately poor—and those brainwashed by lies and “patriotism”—are sucked into the war machine.”

“The American people are irrevocably brainwashed. The state has distracted and divided them into mutually antagonistic groups. Instead of focusing on the US-spawned horror of forever war—Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria—and economic warfare against an ever-growing roster of nations not submitting to neoliberal economic suicide (Venezuela, North Korea, Cuba, Nicaragua), the people are distracted by celebrity pabulum, sports, television shows pushing identity and sexual politics and, recently arrived on the scene, a corrosive and vile partisan war that has since the election of Donald Trump resulted in riots, looting, violence, and death. It is now common to hear people demand the assassination of the president and the incarceration of his wife and children.”

I know a few readers who will likely protest.  “Of course they’d still come here! Look where they come from, crazy woman, there’s many dozens of shittier countries out there!”  

And you’d be absolutely right in pointing that out.

But, those countries know they’re shitty.  That’s the critical difference.  They admit it openly.  I’ve yet to meet a Nigerian who believes he comes from the greatest country on Earth.

Personally, I’d have a lot more pride in my country if we could be that authentic.  Instead of our motto claiming we are: ‘The land of the free and the home of the brave’ we could admit instead we are: ‘The land of illusions and the home of sorcerers.’

It’s the fact that we’re expected here to have pride in our shittiness that I find so unbearably insulting.

Perhaps, instead of The Star Spangled Banner as our country’s marching theme song, we could consider this one, in the spirit of authenticity?

Back in the Saddle

As the world continues to move in lockstep with the oligarchs of control toward their Global Gulag, we here on the wee homestead move from damage control after the spring manufactured weather terror toward our next steps in resistance.

Handy Hubby has been working hard clearing the uprooted and split trees from around the house, continuing on that momentum to clear a few more as well, optimizing our lovely views.  Some cool weather and rain, at last, allows for a giant bonfire, and we contentedly watch the damage go up in smoke.

Since this setback made it impossible for him to finish fencing a second pasture this year, some hastily employed electric fencing saved the day, and the critters can now save me the task of pruning, mowing and weeding.

Maybe Mama Chop knew we, and she, weren’t up for a big litter this year.  Now her remaining four piglets get pampered with her undivided attention and we will all have fewer mouths to feed.

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The new guard gets to expand their territory.  Tori gets to expand her dominance and spread the love.

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But maybe a bit less love is in order?

We will continue circling the wagons, with a storm shelter moving to the top of the long list, because the writing is clearly on the wall, in neon, though the vast majority continue skipping their merry way to the guillotine.

Climate Control, Geophysical Warfare, Climate Change.

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