We must thank our lucky stars once again. Last post we caught our first swarm right in the garden, and if that wasn’t easy enough, this one flew right into our trap, as if guided by the Divine!
Positioned high in a pine tree with lovely views of open pasture, lightly seasoned with a few drops of lemon grass essential oil, move-in ready with two frames of fully drawn comb, and violà, our first volunteer tenants.
Apparently they were not privy to any shelter-in-place sort of order.
Guess who else is not abiding by the social distancing commands from their government . . .
And these crazy rebels, well, it’s just shocking how little they care . . .
Bubba does not respect their Authorité!
Buttercup doesn’t know what psy-op even means! Whaaaa?!?
Last night Tori came to me in a dream and stated matter-of-factly, “I’ll take ‘em all down, easy-peasy, just lemme at ‘em!”
And I replied, “No, each must choose for himself, otherwise we just get more tyranny.”
“LORD Technology is Saturn Worship. It’s the religion of slavery and narcissism. All academia, governments, and courts are Saturn worship. Christ is real. But people are worshiping a human sacrifice. He was the Passover Lamb. To give him your prana is to feed it to the owners of the ritual. The True Cross, or Christ, is a spiritual astringent – the most crucial archetype you can have to survive Saturnism. Christianity is a government trauma cult made by Saturnalians to keep you docile, meek, egoless, and dumb. The Bible was a relic of LORD Technology written to gaslight you. The book sucks all of your cosmology about God into the black hole of scripture. It’s a vacuum where your creativity and prana are sucked into deep space where it can do nothing forever.
I hope this clears things up. After all – this is the Apocolypse.” James True
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?!
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.
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.
“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.
Texas 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.
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.
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?
Mullein makes great toilet paper, fyi. Try shopping your local forest. 😉
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.
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.
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.
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.
I guess after being accused of being Luddites before we knew the meaning of the word, and having emphatically denied it through several more accusations, we’ve at last adopted it as true.
Now I wonder why there aren’t more of us.After all, all technology is the equivalent of Prometheus bringing fire.Is that to be no cause for concern?It all carries the power of goodness and of destruction.
Even the written word, and the shoe, two of man’s greatest, earliest tools, became proverbial Pandora’s boxes.
One Man and a Chainsaw in Texas
What do you think of with that title? The popular horror film, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?
Or, do you think of the magnificence that is the invention of the chainsaw?Fire to warm and create or fire to torture and kill?
Handy Hubby’s still plowing through the remnants of last spring’s ‘tornado’.As fortune would have it, the trail he’d just cleared to make way for the fencing of the second pasture was the exact path the ‘tornado’ chose.Amazing.
I know these constant chaotic weather events are not just Mother Nature, and that man has developed weather tampering techniques, which could be used for good, but are instead being used in public manipulation and covert warfare.
Yet, thanks to another of man’s technologies, what once not too long ago would’ve taken weeks for one man, now takes days—just one man and a chainsaw.It’s truly awesome.
I’m far more inspired by that relatively simple technology of our forefathers than all that’s being boasted about, and experimented with, today.
But we, Luddites or otherwise, don’t get a vote.
Before and After—make that one man, a chainsaw and a tractor.
Because if you’re not on board—hook, line and sinker—with whatever the technocrats care to shoot down the pipeline this week, well, you’re just a Luddite.A bitter clinger to the past.A sore loser who needs to roll over already.An old curmudgeon.
Whatever the wheel of fortune has in store for you, whoever’s spinning that wheel, you’re just along for the ride, buckle-up, and don’t forget to say thank you.
I was called a troll yesterday on one of my favorite shows because I’m staunchly anti-vegetarian, unlike the hosts, who are vegetarians.It wasn’t the hosts themselves who called me a troll, because they are not adult-children, and they can stand some backlash from the peanut gallery.
No, it was fellow peanuts in the gallery who called me a troll, and an ugly troll at that!My sin?Stating unequivocally that vegetarianism does not bring one closer to nature.
I could’ve gone on.Vegetarianism is not sustainable.It’s not more compassionate.It’s not more healthy.It’s not how our ancestors ate.And more.
But none of those are even the most serious of the issue.
The vegetarian lifestyle feeds directly into an agenda of Globalism.This is because the vegetarian lifestyle requires massive centralization and vast supply chains.
It’s a question of economics.If folks were closer to nature, and grew their own food, they’d know it’s impossible in most places to grow enough vegetables and grains on a small farm all year long to sustain even a large family without livestock.Certainly there are exceptions in small heavily-populated regions like California and Hawaii.
I understand that vegetarians think they are being more compassionate toward animals and nature, but what about the farmers?How much compassion do you have for them?Vegetarians are making matters much worse for the small farmers, and they are the solution to Globalism.
Of course the industrialized meat system is cruel and disgusting!Yes, please, avoid it if you can!
But the answer is not keep the industrialist food system alive and thriving with veggie burgers and soy shakes.
Without a local market to sell their products, farmers can’t make it without these vast supply chains.The solution really is to buy local and eat seasonal, this is what’s good for the soil, and therefor the soul.
Find Nutrient-Dense Foods – The Weston A. Price Foundation TAKE THE 50% PLEDGE! Help us celebrate twenty years of accurate information on diet and health by strengthening your commitment to support local farms. Spend at least 50% of your food dollar purchasing raw milk and raw milk products, eggs, poultry, meat and produce directly from local farmers and artisans. email@example.com.)
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.
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.
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.
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!)
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.
There’s a baffling disconnect between the world of science and mainstream society. How many folks don’t realize weather modification ‘is A thing’ as the modern parlance goes. It’s been a thing FOREVER! It’s an enormous field of research and EXPERIMENTATION with its own conferences, journals, corporations, market speculations, and the usual establishment lies and manipulations that go with that crucial institutionalized status.
From the current President of the Journal of Weather Modification, who recently celebrated their 50th Anniversary:
“Another goal of mine was to increase the membership of the international community. This issue is still a work in progress, but with the help of some of our more prominent international members, I hope the tide will turn. Weather Modification IS an international activity and is ongoing across the globe in terms of operations projects and research. My hope, is that the international weather modification community is as equally as curious about the WMA as we are about them!”
Governments around the world don’t know about this thriving global industry? The Australian government currently can’t find the technological or financial resources to cloud seed over their devastating fires? The U.S. government isn’t benefitting from any of the myriad technologies for causing floods, droughts, tornadoes, hail, or prevention of such weather chaos?
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.
Some mice traps, a coat of paint, and voila!
More paint, new appliances . . .
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.)
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 . . .”