Homestead Love-Hate

I hate August on the homestead.  There, I’ve admitted it. I can’t stand pretending.  Sitting at the kitchen table looking at the last of about 250 pounds of pears, I could almost cry.

I’d like to sell it all right now and move to Fiji.  I imagine moving permanently into a rented beach hut complete with pool boy serving me colorful fruity cocktails all day.  Not processing pears.  Not plucking dozens of ducks.  Not gaping helplessly at the crops becoming engulfed, scorched, withering to their deaths.

Handy Hubby could even join me there if he wanted to, it’s not his fault after all.  The bugs, the heat, my aching hands, the better part of an entire nation on vacation, as if that weren’t bad enough.

Because then on top of it all is the garden.  Every year, the garden horror show, unrecognizable from a month ago, my annually recurring failure at keeping nature mildly tamed.

augustgarden

In anticipation of my August mood, this year I planted loads of flowers at the garden entrance.  Flowers and puppies are just about all that’s keeping depression at bay.  Some are miserable in the dead of winter; I am miserable in the dead of summer.

cowpeasMowing stopped mid-way for stabbing arthritic pain in my wrists and fingers.  I don’t care anymore.  I can’t care anymore.  There are plenty of cow peas and a few ripe melons in that mess, if you dare.  After weeks at work, this is what Hubby must come home to, and rescue me from, furthering my shameful failure.

okra
Okra successfully outmaneuvering the pernicious grasses, but I don’t like okra.

 

happypig1The pigs still have their wee escape, and I have mine.

Puppy love.

Puppy pics are way more fun than chemtrail pics.

bathday

I could be taking photos of the regular assault in our skies with the disgusting aerosols of climate engineering, as I was for a number of months.  Another failure it seems, because I can’t bare it, it doesn’t seem to be helping anything at all, except for normalizing abhorrent “science”.

nothingisreal

I simply have no more capacity or patience for folks who don’t, can’t or won’t see, or who don’t care, or who like, the whole-scale rape, murder and pillage of our planet.  When will it stop?  When will the madness heal?  When will a mass of mankind have had enough of bowing to their masters as they crack the whip on the laws of nature?

I’m on vacation alright, just like the bulk of a nation, it’s just a vacation on my window seat, directly under the a/c unit, where I’m grateful to continue my climate engineering research thanks to these more tireless and consistent deeply concerned citizens.

http://www.geoengineeringwatch.org/

https://stopsprayingus.com/

http://zerogeoengineering.com/

Cheese-making: Science and Sensuality

Cheeses currently in our aging fridge, which is nothing more than a cheap beverage model sadly impersonating a cave in Switzerland: Swiss (of course), Tomme (another Alpine cheese), Munster, Camembert (wrapped in fig leaves), Pepper Jack,  Farmhouse Cheddar (cloth-wrapped), Gouda, Dill Havarti, Mozzarella (the old-fashioned way), Ricotta.  Plus, in the kitchen fridge: yogurt, kefir, Mexican queso, and chocolate ice cream–all homemade with the freshest Grade A, raw milk from small farm, grass-fed cows available for purchase in East Texas.

These are the kind of cheeses one has a tough time finding where to legally buy, or sell, not only in America, but in quite a few other Western countries as well.  In most of the countries who consider themselves ‘free’ as far as I’m aware, acquiring licensing for everything dairy under the Federal sun will still not grant you the right to sell such cheeses.  Big Brother is so very worried about our health, after all.
http://theplate.nationalgeographic.com/2015/09/30/some-like-it-raw-the-state-of-unpasteurized-cheese-in-the-u-s/

Some of these are cheeses the way our ancestors made them–even using fig sap as rennet and kefir as starter culture.  Others of them have been made possible only with the help of modern science–freeze-dried cultures in order to create the holes and flavor of Swiss, for example, or the orange-rinded stinky varieties like Munster or Limburger, or the blue veins of the pungent Roquefort, the reliable white mold of a Camembert–which make it possible to imitate, with a reasonable degree of success, the most famous of region-specific cheeses we’ve come to know and love over the generations.

The first time I tasted cheese that did not come wrapped in plastic I was a teenager in France.  It was also the first time I tasted milk straight from the cow.  I was stunned to realize these products, considered the same from my own home to my host family’s home, had almost nothing in common.  To the eye they appeared congruent, but to the other senses they were not even distant cousins.

But it’s one thing to harness an appreciation for the depth and subtitles of a finely- crafted cheese, it’s quite another to think you can make one.  In Texas.  In an ‘aging fridge’ from Wal-mart.  With $7/gallon milk you drive 3 hours to acquire and sometimes using cultures manufactured in a lab.

Is it just for the love of cheese?  It’s true, while doubtless they can’t compete with their cave-aged predecessors, still available in their natural state to only a precious few, I’ve made some of the best cheeses I’ve tasted available in this neck of the Piney Woods.

Handy Hubby appreciates my rather expensive and quite time-consuming hobby, but that’s just a bonus.  I think these old skills and crafts are crucial to maintain and pass along to future generations, that’s for sure.  But none of these good reasons would be enough, even all together, if it weren’t for the pleasure of the process.

The sensuality of cheese-making cannot be over-stated and to describe it would take poetry far superior than is my capacity to create.  This is a hobby that touches, demands, cultivates every one of our senses and a fair amount of intellect as well.  A whole-minded approach is crucial for success, because process alone will only get you so far.

You may scoff and think a cheese is a cheese, it’s a matter of taste alone, and they mostly taste the same.  If so, you poor, poor dear.

“Those . . . from whom nature has withheld the legacy of taste, have long faces, and long eyes and noses, whatever their height there is something elongated in their proportions.  Their hair is dark and unglossy, and they are never plump, it was they who invented trousers.”

Anthelme Brillat-Savarin The Physiology of Taste quoted in A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman

You may laugh and say . . . “sound?”  If cheese-making requires a subtle practice of every sense than that includes sound . . . how silly.

Someday I will make the case for sound in good cheese-making, because I think there’s a case to be made.  In addition to my own experimentation, I suspect I need search no further than the many monasteries made famous for their cheeses for more supporting evidence.

Cheese is still more pleasure than exudes the senses in the thrill of retrieving and treasuring a fading art, and in marrying the inevitable couple of progress and tradition.

“We are all served more and more by factory machines, maybe inevitably, and by schedules, even our own, and in time, as has often been pointed out, we come to serve them.  Some of us are becoming chafed by it all.  We seek to reaffirm ourselves, to do and make for ourselves, to find new ways to do so–many of them admittedly old ways, but new and revitalizing ones to us and our friends.  We want to find out how the basic components of our lives are made and come to us to use.  We seek to become part once more of the processes, and possessors once more of the details of our own existence.”

The Cheeses and Wines of England and France, with Notes on Irish Whiskey

by John Ehle

cheesebooks

A few favorite references and a favorite resource:

2016quesocheesedip-1024x932
The Promiseland Farm

If you want to start somewhere, this is a super easy cheese even a picky American kid would surely like, think Velveeta, only healthy.  http://thepromiselandfarm.com/queso-cheese-spread-dip/

 

No More Fakebook

torinpups2“Fakebook,” Handy Hubby calls it.  Of course he’s right, I’ve long known he’s right.  I left Fakebook years ago, then went back, against my better judgment.  It has become to me one more insufferable Catch-22 of the modern age.

I’ve met a few good folks there and it was the source in finding our new livestock guard dog pups, who are so precious it’s a real challenge not to spoil them!

It is a good tool for keeping in touch, no doubt.  I’ve also appreciated how it’s like the modern equivalent of scrapbooking in some fundamental ways. They keep better track of our photos than I do.  They record it all. And therein lies the Catch 22.

Fakebook has tipped in scales to more negative than positive, not just for me, I see folks leaving it and considering leaving it and I can’t blame them, in fact, I’ve again just rejoined the leavers, and this time, I’m never going back.

Oh my, I just felt a twang of panic in my gut.  Never?  Did I really mean that?  That’s so very . . . permanent.

I know it’s wrong!  I know they are spying, manipulating, engineering, censoring, and if that weren’t bad enough, the ads are over the top.  I just can’t stand it.  In fact, I find I’m turning to books, real books printed on real paper, just to be able to find a recipe without eight ads and pop-ups attached.

And I know very well it’s not just about the advertising, that’s just the surface level annoyance and distraction.  It is about Big Data, which I’ve written about several times already, but for those still uninformed, some background material.

https://www.corbettreport.com/episode-319-psychographics-101/

And Truthstream Media:

 

If I am to align my life with my principles, as I’ve sworn to do, I cannot support this level of technocracy.  Next will be the Smart phones, out of our lives!  We do just fine without satellite TV already.   We will vehemently reject all 5G roll-out “Smart” crap that we possibly can.

We will get better at it, these things take considerable time and effort. We are gradually becoming more refined in making due with the old ways, and isn’t it ironic.  I jumped on-board with educational technology as a grad student, made it my thing, taught online courses since the first years that was possible.

And now I look and shiver as at a golem.  Oh my stars, what have we created?

I must take a deep bow to those who saw it decades before I did, the ones I once considered practically prehistoric.  The ‘old folk’ who were so afraid of technology, so concerned about privacy. The paranoid ones who suspected, no, even had valid proof, that the government could not be trusted with this information power house.

We are in the process collectively of accepting enslavement to the grid. If you still believe the powers-that-be are benevolent, that once was me.  I can’t say all that it was that blinded me then, I was seeing it and reading it, but it wasn’t yet REAL.

I’m reminded of famous words that made a decent impression on me so long ago I can’t recall, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. “Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members. Society is a joint-stock company, in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs.”

We, Kensho, have been learning about self-reliance.  It’s more work and more responsibility than I’d known before, certainly much more physical labor.  Many sacrifices have been made by us both.  We stopped traveling.  Our social and political priorities have shifted.  Our values and worldview and tolerance levels have become much more refined.  Our skill-sets have increased ten-fold.  One of these days I’ll make a list.

But this post is about Fakebook.  What it offers is not worth what it takes away.  In its absence I’ve started reading fiction again.  I’ve also decided to take up sewing, which surprises me about my own self as much as when I took up cheesemaking, my now favorite hobby by far and one I’m getting pretty good at.

Fakebook is a time-sucking, energy-wasting, spell-casting, manipulating, ad-pushing pain in the ass.  I’m done.

“It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

torinpups

 

There are so many better things to do!

 

FRANKENSKIES FULL LENGTH DOCUMENTARY

A new and dramatic documentary about Geoengineering–I especially appreciate the social programming aspect of it. There’s a dozen ways or more working to condition the public to accept everything and anything without complaint or even public debate. It is precisely as I’ve been saying for years–we’ve been trained to adapt, adjust, conform, comply–like prisoners or slaves or livestock.

Now, if we start revolting against this assault in our skies and against our health, well-being and environment, what will the public insist on . . . regulation. Global governance will become the de facto solution. So once again “they”–whoever they are–create the problem, seed and reseed and reseed the public reaction, then provide the solution. They will keep on with that successful formula until it stops working, obviously. Wouldn’t you?

Part 21: Strawberry Fields Forever

The perception sorcery we find ourselves in

Awash in illusion, deception, sin

waveonion
Notice the ceiling.

 

Which flowers you grow laws rule

 

DSCN0993 (2)

Let me take you down

nubianskristi2

Cause I’m going to

 

Strawberry fields

Nothing is real

nothingisreal

And nothing to get hung about

hungabout

 

Living is easy, with eyes closed. Misunderstanding all you see.

DSCN0984 (2)

Always, no sometimes, think it’s me.
But you know when it’s a dream.

I think I know it means a “Yes” but it’s all wrong.
That is I think I disagree.

Married to illusion. What sort of glam-golem are we-they creating?

 

You get to see the pretty pictures.  But not the shit, literal shoveling shit, that went in to creating them.  A Walt Disney dream.  For every success, a dozen failures you don’t see. I don’t talk about.

 

This is what I really think, after many months of research into Geoengineering.

 

We are all now ruled by the cartoonish mentality of the technocracy.  They are trying to force upon us a reality based on illusion.

I want to thank the following folk for their work, which has helped me tremendously to navigate this fool’s path.  This particular journey may be over, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to move on too far.

unslaved

crrow777

thehighersidechat

corbetreport

1pacificredwood

geoengineeringwatch

yamakawa

What a long strange trip it is.