The geoengineered ‘tornado’ this spring has been a big setback for us, but we’re adjusting with a blossoming ‘f**k it’ attitude that will surely see us through the misery of the current hazy-swamp setting per the weather controllers.
The ‘feels like’ temperature promises to remain in the 100s for a few months, no doubt. Most folks around here say that’s normal, but that’s because most folks alive today have been living with modified weather for decades without realizing it. Weathermodificationhistory.com
Since the politicians and select scientists have partnered up to bully the public into buying their global climate change scheme, the few who even notice the atmosphere is different think the technocrats will swoop in and fix it all up again.
The ‘f**k it’ attitude is necessary to maintain sanity currently, but knowing it must be temporary makes it especially bitter-sweet. Downed trees remain a keen reminder still in looking out through any window of the house.
But, I’ve adjusted to them now, labeling them in my mind as satanic yard art.
My shoulder injury persists, Hubby’s working loads of overtime, and there’s plenty to do just in maintaining what we can without tackling a difficult clean-up project just now. Or just about anything else.
As a bonus, the birds love it, we have cardinals nesting, super happy woodpeckers, bouncing bunnies, and the sheep are cooperative enough to take on the garden mess for me.
Since I can’t make cheese or garden or can, I’ve been trying to foster some new hobbies. Learning to paint and sew helps to pass the time, but mostly they are too sedentary for my nature. I’m trying to adjust.
But, it feels like trying, as does reading, which doesn’t fit so well with the ‘f**k it’ mindset. For now we join the masses in their preferred great American pastime of apathy, avoidance and distraction by binge-watching movies with a good buzz on.
The bees are growing fine without my participation, yay! And, I think I heard Mr. Dragonfly volunteer to help me train the young grape vines.
The roses aren’t happy suffering through brambles and grasses, but they’re handling their neglect with grace nonetheless.
But, there should be butterflies all over these zinnias, and that’s cause for concern.
Which then reminds me, it must be cocktail hour. Like Grandma used to say, “It’s 5:00 somewhere!”