Just a few fun vids this post, of my favorite variety–the dual-use–both entertaining and educational!
How many hours could I spend delighted by the hummingbird wars?! It gets me pondering so many things . . . like are they fighting these territorial battles for real, or just goofing off? One has taken a dominant position, guarding the post perched on a sunflower leaf, but often allows the other 7 (yes we’ve counted 8 of them!) to have a drink. Are they kin? The chosen feeder-keeper has gotten so comfortable in his position I can get very close before he gets spooked off. Which makes me realize, I don’t actually know if it’s he or she. There is a nice fire-engine red around the throat, which I think means male.
Sometimes he will stay there guarding while the others drink, while other times he chases them off in a seeming acrobatic rage. Could he be training the youth? Or trying to keep his girls in line? So many angles to ponder!
Here’s a brief slow-mo to see how deliberately yet effortless they dance around each other.
There’s another feeder just about 50 feet away, but they don’t fight over that one at all. It’s the same sugar syrup, but the other feeder is a different style, with clear glass instead of red. Is that why they prefer this one? To test that idea I’ve ordered another of the same style from Amazon. (I know, but they make it too easy!)
This one taken before the feeders were up, and right after a frost. She must have a very warm nest somewhere closeby.
Every so often both hummingbird feeders will be full, and quietly content. Then a bright red cardinal will come to dine on the light blue feeder and a little black and white phoebe will perch and snack in the green one. A bumblebee will be on the pansy and honeybees on the sunflowers. The briefest of moments of calm in paradise, before some unperceived interuption sets the scene in motion again.
But even in the constant motion there is something so serene in the rhythm of nature, the soothing colors and harmonious patterns and consistent calls.
In contrast, one more video. Another dual-purpose one of entertainment and education, in this case, predictive programming.
Geoengineering predictive programming thanks to The Simpsons.
Watching this captivating scene, sipping on a kombucha cocktail with Hubby as he draws up plans for our next BIG DIY project– remodeling our 1980s bathroom, at long last–is just about as perfect a Sunday as I can imagine.
Hoping your Sunday is your personal perfect paradise too!
It was too much news last time for one post, and I didn’t care to skimp on the cheese bragging, especially!
But then I got sent off on a cheese tangent when trying to simply explain why most commercially-produced cheese on grocery store shelves should not even be called real cheese anymore.
In fact, maybe even some of these fabulous-looking cheeses from traditional French fromageries like I used to love to frequent might also make the fake food list. I sincerely hope not, but France, like all of ‘the West’ are increasingly subjected to the same chemical onslought as we are in the US.
Making cheese is the best thing I’ve ever done. In my life, without exception. Thanks to it, I have uncovered some of the rarest, most simple, deepest and most common of universal life lessons.
No offense to Handy Hubby, marrying him is definitely a close second. 😆
I’ve heard similar magnanimous claims recounted only through such trials and tribulations as come through miracles such as child birth and motherhood. But I have not been a mother.
Don’t cry for me though, because I found cheese!
From it I’ve delved into the practicalities–the art, the craft–of the most delicious hobby I can imagine. I have also been either introduced, or expanded my knowledge on topics as diverse as vaccines, germ theory, pleomorphism, alchemy, modern chemistry, even math–some things which I rejected with ease or sometimes ferocity–which now claim me, my mind and passions and preoccupations, like one conquered, lured and pushed, exposed and protected, by some ultimate wisdom.
Anyone who knew me in my younger years would be surprised, I’m sure, as my sister was, that I would willingly and repeatedly entangle my brain with math and science. Not that either is entirely necessary for traditional cheesemaking.
Every cheese pictured here, and plenty more that are not, I’ve made with the same 4 ingredients: locally-sourced raw milk, our own animal rennet, clabber and salt.
From David Asher’s fantastic tome, Milk Into Cheese: The Foundations of Natural Cheesemaking Using Traditional Concepts, Tools, and Techniques
Most commercial producers of cheese believe that packaged starters are the only option for cheese’s proper production; that milk is deficient in the appropriate microbes and rich in dangerous ones; and that they are incapable of realizing the work that is normally done by trained microbiologists. DVIs (Direct Vat Innoculants–freeze-dried starters) are considered the only acceptable way to safely make cheese, and the most convenient option for producers, big or small.
He’s too polite and wise to say the industry has been completely captured, but I do believe he’d agree with me on that!
Industrial starters are by and large produced by multinational corporations. Danisco, the most prolific starter producer, is based in Denmark and is a subsidiary of DuPont. This corporation and others like it profit off cheesemakers’ demand for a product that they do not truly need.
Industrial starters are monocultures of microorganisms that have no precedent in nature and need perfectly sterile environments in order to function correctly. They are out of touch with the reality of cheese, which needs dozens if not hundreds of species of microbes to evolve according to their safest and most flavorful pathways.
The deception on the foundational level, resting on disproven science from the early 1900s, is bad enough. But the consumer sees none of that, instead being swept up in extremely dubious marketing practices that call these starters natural and necessary.
And that’s even before we delve into the mass manufacturing of “vegetarian rennet” –that is the lab-derived coagulant now used by the vast majority of cheesemakers large and small around the West and perhaps the world, which also also claims to be natural.
Four ingredients. Just think about that for a moment, please! That is all it takes to delight, and/or to disgust, in a thousand different ways.
Labeling, on cheeses as on GMOs, is simply another way to con the consumer. The process is as important as the ingredients and changing the meaning of words is par for the course. More on that next post as I delve into the “Nutrition” label of a popular cheese brand.
Fermentation and the art of putrefaction is the process. Technically putrefaction is the wrong word, though it does sort of work!
Affinage is the correct term for the fine craft of cheese maturation. According to AI the difference is:
“Putrefaction refers to the decomposition of organic matter, which can negatively affect cheese quality, while affinage is the controlled aging process that enhances the flavor and texture of cheese. Proper affinage prevents undesirable putrefaction by managing environmental conditions and microbial activity during cheese maturation.”
So it’s basically desirable putrefaction. It’s like the difference between a weed and an herb, it depends on whose garden it is.
But still, think about that! Like aging fine wines and wiskeys, even hot sauces, this is proper fermentation, where territory REALLY matters. Where some old-school crafters even insist no one else can touch their concoctions or they’re immediately spoiled. True story!
It’s POD taken to an extreme unknown even to our own extreme-loving culture.
POD, or DO (designation of origin) is to the cheese world what Provenance is to the art world. It is, literally, about ‘savoir faire’ (know-how) –being able to trace the work, the process, back to its source.
Perhaps so that industry can try to capture a piece of that magic? Individual and smallscale crafters in the market are not allowed the same right to privacy as the Big Food manufacturers, who routinely get to claim “proprietary” status whenever they care not to divulge their special little secrets.
Aging cheese, affinage, is an art, craft, indeed a profession, so ancient it predates our recorded history. It has nothing at all to do with commercial pasteurization, or chemically-adulterated cheeses, which has absolutely compromised the craft. Which has been further compromised by a negligence of public health standards and an indifference to territory and creating a GloboGlob culture that is so synthetic it now considers consuming chemicals as food ‘natural’.
And if you are among the great many who are allergic, they don’t tell you it’s because they’ve completely adulterated the ingredients, the process, and even the meaning of words, oh no, they tell you ‘plant-based cheese’ is the next great thing they’re creating just for you!
The new ‘art’ eh? I think not. But time will tell.
Our tastes tell us a much bigger story than our grocery stores care to oblige. And the ever-increasing health consequences and debilitating diseases point to our palates and our plates, which should take their rightful place at the top of that pyramid of problems.
Cheese is full of life and how each cheese is treated determines its outcome. Kind of like children too. It is not a source of disease, though like rearing anything, it can be a source of dis-ease!
I also feel such a drive to protect these precious processes. The downright bastardization of what’s considered natural in these times is only escalating toward greater absurdity. “Natural” and “only possible to manufacture in a lab setting” should not be synonomous!
If that makes me a food snob, I am pleased to claim the title! We’ll need an army of Queen Food Snobs to push back against this crazy.
We’ve got a sad-but-funny Shadow story, the usual weather nonsense, garden goodies, another instance of AI lies, lots of cheese bragging, the will of pigs, my creativity commitment, all in no particular order.
My how they’ve grown!Spring 2024
We’ve had both new setbacks and new achievements so far this growing season.
The false friend of an early spring might feel nice for some temporarily, but most got slammed hard by the subsequent freeze weeks later. We lost all the fruit trees except the citrus, which Hubby’s been painstakingly covering and uncovering all Weather Whiplash Season. The figs, mulberries, magnolias and even the oaks got it the worst as they were already well leafed out.
The lovely wild cherry we uncovered about six years ago when Hubby cleared for the new chicken coop was another sad loss, again. It looks so beautiful full of blossoms, but only once did they last long enough for a cherry harvest. If it’s not the late frosts, it’s the wind, or the bag worms that destroy them.
I’m sure it has nothing at all to do with these totally natural clouds that come right in lockstep with our strange weather, I’m certainly not seeing any patterns and I surely don’t imagine these are some sort of chemicals that fill the sky and do weird things like change the atmosphere, and the climate. Heavens no!
What crazy talk! This is just beautiful big Texas country skies, that’s all!
On the fun success side of things, we have the earliest pepper harvest ever, by far. This was no thanks to the weather either, but rather to my laziness. Now that’s a rare and welcome anamoly! I had excellent success for the first time over-wintering three varieties, after multiple failed attempts. The trick seems to be to never move them. Whereas before I’d haul them in and out during our warm to freeze snaps, thinking I was benefitting them with all the extra effort, in fact no, they did best parked in front of the window for three months.
We’ve already had a little harvest because I feared the still small limbs so heavy with fruits might not fare so well in our next big wind.
The strawberries are another big success, which I finally achieved after so much trial and error, especially error. So successful I shared wheelbarrows full of plants with many friends and neighbors, one who asked to share my tips with the Master Gardeners county extension newsletter. So, here they are! It is certainly a high maintenance crop, but such delicious rewards.
We were able to save the majority of tomatillos from the freeze, but not the tomatoes, not sure why. We had to double cover them, with pots and then frost blankets on top, but that worked. We’d already opted for tomatillos over tomatoes this year for a nice change of pace.
The onions and garlic were not bothered by the freeze and are still growing strong.
plus we’ve got lots of carrots and lettuces, while the crucifers jump directly to seed in their seasonal confusion.
We were also able to get an early jump on blooms we housed with the citrus, so that’s fun. I never tire of more flowers!
Even an extraordinarily early datura!
In other happy news there are always the cute little lambs.
They appear so sweet and harmless, n’est ce pas? But don’t ask our poor terrorized Shadow to agree with that assessment!
Friend or foe, sometimes we don’t know.
He looks, and often acts, like a big brut. But one mama has such a hate toward him he can’t even cross the yard in her presence! Hubby literally has to escort him if the lambs are in the front yard, she will charge at him from 15 yards, and even his meanest growl won’t keep her from butting him if he’s unprotected by a human. The poor dear, it must be terribly immasculating. 😆
Please refrain from shaming the Shadow, he’s a lover not a fighter!
But speaking of fighters, pigs can be extremely pig-headed, in case you didn’t know that slander is very true.
Hubby had already decided to take a sabbatical from pig-rearing last year, and planned it for this spring. He put old Papa Chop down in December after his last breeding hurrah. Seems providence wanted to put a fine point on that decision, by making this round particularly painful. Knowing a big storm was coming, he positioned Mama Chop’s birthing area under cover. She had other ideas, probably because it was so damn hot. They tusseled for two days, she won. Just as Hubby predicted, 3/4 of her litter drowned. And that’s the end of his breeding adventures.
Other changes in our territory are equally ambiguous, are they for better, or for worse? Two opposing, and/or related events. One on the plus side–we seem to be having a resurgence of wildlife. I’ve had multiple sitings of wild turkey, and now we hear some down by the creek seeming to have taken up residence there. I’ve heard many stories of abundant wild turkey in these parts from oldtimers, but in nearly 20 years here had not come across them. Feral hog are another story, they’re always around. But there’s been more deer too, it seems. And rabbits, squirrel and bobcat. No complaints from me, I love to see it! Though I do wonder, might it be because all the oil activity here now is forcing them out of other nearby habitat?
Time will tell.
Friend or foe, sometimes we’ll never know. Like this little guy, lounging in our garden shed, who didn’t seem to find me nearly as cute as I found him! As he struck at the bill of my cap and made me jump like a squealing teenager.
Harmless, I know, jump and squeal I still did! 😂
The last two points will have to wait–my creative commitment and the latest AI lies–they are intrinsically related, please stay tuned.
And the cheese bragging! Coming very soon!
And thanks for stopping by! Until then, a simple song, for us simpletons. 😆🤗😘
“Anarchism is not a romantic fable but the hardheaded realization, based on five thousand years of experience, that we cannot entrust the management of our lives to kings, priests, politicians, generals, and county commissioners.”
~ Edward Abbey
What Anarchy Is:
I tire of constantly having to explain what anarchy is and what it is not. I tire of having to explain our language to those who seem never to have the time or inclination to study and learn it on their own, and without prejudice. Words mean things, and cannot be arbitrarily changed, or altered to suit a mood, an agenda, or be used improperly in order to create out of thin air, a State or political narrative, or to advance any particular agenda. To begin my comments, I will clarify that the word anarchy simply means no rule – no rulers, and therefore, no master or government; period.
If one is to go to most any modern dictionary, or look at dictionary synonyms, the list is common. The synonyms used to describe anarchy are: chaos, confusion, disorder, lawlessness, nihilism, rebellion, riot, turmoil, disorganization, insurrection, mutiny, revolution, tumult, mobocracy, mob rule, non-government, reign of terror, and unrest. Only one of these terms is correct; all the others are false, and have been intentionally manufactured to change the true meaning of anarchy. Non-government (no government) is the only correct synonym used, but all other descriptions are what most any would not only find if searching for the meaning of anarchy, but what they would also believe. Of course, few would search out the true meaning by going to the Greek root system of our language, and of course, that is by design as well. Why else do ‘public’ (government controlled ) schools (government indoctrination training centers) exist?
The refreshing article coincided with an ‘interesting’ new documentary on my long-time favorite conspiracy theory–the weather.
Climate Trails, which can be streamed for the price of a Starbuck’s latte, on Amazon.
What got me to find this latest gem is that I was curious and went looking for the first ‘chemtrail’ whistleblower I’d found, round about 2014. She had been threatened and forced out of the Air Force in 2010 and I’d been really moved by her story.
USAF Environmental Specialist and Air Force ‘chemtrail’ whistleblower interviewed in 2014, threatened and forced out in 2010.
Kristen Meghan
It also includes the courageous activist, Kathryn Saari, who I wrote about a year or so ago, called MellowKat on her Substack.
A very ‘interesting’ documentary, and by that I mean curious. Perhaps meant to create cognitive dissonance by simultaneous clips of a cursing Anarchist with a well-meaning Kentucky politician, both trying to address the geoengineered atmosphere. Perhaps with the ultimate ‘come together against this evil’ intention.
Of course we all already know the UK admitd it’s going to dim the sun, and Bill Gates can’t wait to make more billions poisoning more populations in more ways.
I learned that 32 states now have some legislation in the works against weather modification/geoengineering and while I have said in the past this is pointless, the states have zero jurisdiction over this level of operations, I think I was underestimating the overall strategy, perhaps being that I’ve always been a big hater of games.
It is raising awareness. It’s not that I’m not thrilled for that, I absolutely am!
My concern though is, by raising awareness, are we raising more folks who really care about the environment and want to stop these persecutions of the natural world? Or, are we just creating more markets for the great many who choose to profit off our serious problems?
Such a synchronistic interview popped into my feeds, which I just have to share. Not only is our wee homestead full of young blood sucking down mamas’ milk, but I’m also teaching another cheesemaking workshop this week.
So, milk is big on my mind, nothing unusual there.
This interview from Weston A. Price is priceless! It really is such an awesome feeling for me when a new and powerful voice comes on the scene repeating what I sincerely believe and what we have been diligently cultivating on the wee homestead. We are losing too much of great value in our blind rush toward ‘progress’. We’ve got to work harder to keep hold of our wise traditions, or they will be lost forever.
Clearly this issue is getting lots more attention lately, but it has been on the radar of many cheese-lovers since the 90s, including yours truly, because I was so peeved to have to give up cheese, because I was suddenly ‘lactose-intolerant’, like loads of other people. But at that time it was only in the U.S. I couldn’t eat breat or cheese, not in Europe.
Today in Europe they have also been inundated with ‘vegetarian’ rennet and glyphosate and other chemical industrial products and processes, and when it comes to cheese, the vast majority are not labeled as such. I got suspicious, started asking a lot of uncomfortable questions, and found out A LOT about GMOs and our body’s reaction to them.
The interview summary and link for anyone interested in some fantastic cheese talk (he even talks about the maggot-ripened cheeses I’ve mentioned quite a few times on this blog!)
Traditional cheesemakers respect the process of cheesemaking. They honor the environment, the animal, its milk and traditional techniques – all of which lead to delicious, nutritious cheese. Industrial cheesemaking, in stark contrast, emphasizes sterile conditions, uniformity, and artificial inputs (including GMO-derived rennet). The cheese that results from the conventional approach is consistent… but misses a lot in terms of flavor profile and nutrients.
Trevor Warmedahl is a cheesemaker, fermentation educator and the author of Cheese Trekking. Today, he takes us on a cheese adventure, as we gain insight on traditional, artisanal cheesemaking. He gives us pause about what is in our fridge and where it comes from.
Trevor has trekked all over the world, working alongside artisanal cheesemakers, so he understands and shares the importance of working with (instead of against) microbes and nature. He describes cheeses you may have never heard of, along with unique approaches to making them. Trevor also helps us take stock of what has been lost in our modern approach to cheesemaking.
Another one from the deep archives, 9 years ago this month. In reflection what I wish is that I’d had more time to elaborate and get better photos. Noted, but probably not improving much in all these years. Maybe that’s why it had zero likes besides my own?! Room for improvement.
I know in these old posts formats and links are screwy. Sorry about that, but hope it’s still of value to someone, somewhere, sometime, besides me.
3.20.2017
Some iconic lines in films imprint on the psyche collectively and I know you could think of one right now that instantly crosses several generations and continental divides.
“You can’t handle the truth!” Name that film, name that actor. Could you even name his co-star in that blockbuster?
Somehow, somewhere, as a collective, we’ve given ourselves over to worship and celebrity and fantasy and distraction in the most destructive ways. I am not resolved from that influence and never will be. I watched TV constantly for years in high school, only to give it up for years later in exchange for an exhaustive social life, only to give that up more years later for work I found most of all, exhausting.
I had/have this secret fantasy I’m going to share right now (again). After hurricane Katrina, right after, when I heard on the news the city was more or less safe, and me many hours away in a quaint bed and breakfast drinking wine with lunch, the hurricane widely reported as much less dangerous than anticipated, but that residents would need to stay away for a few days at least for safety precautions, I was glad. Nearly giddy, and not from the wine.
I had just started a new position at Tulane university and already I didn’t really want to go back. It took a day or so more before all hell broke out and select areas of the city flooded terribly and all residents had to stay out indefinitely. In our case, we were allowed to go back after two months. For some, it was never. We lived in a trendy and relatively upscale area right on Audubon Park. It was a beautiful spot, both before and after the hurricane. Some were far from so lucky and they’d been there many generations, not just two weeks, like us.
I do hold shame for this secret fantasy, because I still feel it. When I dwell, necessarily, in the dark places of my life and the world, I know there is much sickness, far too much. Far too much destruction, voluntary and deliberate and needless. Still, I have dwelt in destruction.
And there is too much wind, dammit, all around me lately seeming to get worse every year. It’s bloody annoying! We had no winter and now no spring. The plants and animals struggle with it far less than I, but still, I know, they do.
Wind is really stressful! This makes me smile, because there was a time I lived in Chicago and worked downtown and yes, the wind was legendary, but it was mostly something I peered at from the window and got annoyed at how it affected my hairdo.
But the wind is far more powerful and penetrating than I had, and I think most, ever realize. Is that not what blew down the house of each of the three little pigs?
They are blowing, those wolves, our weather right now is as manipulated as the currency market. And in my secret fantasy I sometimes can’t help but wonder—would we all be better off in the long run if they would just blow it all down? Roses blooming at the same time as the dogwood?! It just ain’t right.
This week’s breadcrumb, I’ve got so many I’d love to share this week, but this one is so essential it needs to stand alone.
Unslaved podcast, exploring the self in the work of Ayn Rand and others.
As the world reboots, this is where the rubber will meet the road.
After I got over the shock of hearing the squeals of a drift of wild hogs crashing through the forest, and the fear that I’d lost our dearest Tori, I was amazed to see her come through the trees clearly proud of herself. Still a fav, La Duchesse de Brabant, unfortunately with a bad case of ‘black spot’ but which I’ve been treating with whey, banana peels and chicken poop. Tori’s ‘Illuminati’ pose, hehehehehe!
A combo post–a bit of Homestead Happenings with a bit of my favorite conspiracy theory.
We are having our New Normal weather whiplash where 1/4 of the population pretends the weather has always been like this; another 1/4 couldn’t care less about it, normal or otherwise; 1/4 who think it’s all manmade, but not by tech, by carbon pollution; 1/8th who LOVE the idea of man controlling the weather; and the final 1/8th who believe one of the following: it’s NAZIS controlling the weather, aliens are controlling the climate, a global ice age is coming, too many paranoid plebs are actually causing climate change through their malignant minds, or, the world’s militaries have been using weather tampering against the public for many decades.
23 February 2026 | ZEROGeoengineering.com | Report below published in 2021 by the Land Forces Academy Review evaluates the use of weather influencing technologies and their impact on global security. The authors discuss potential damage resulting from weaponized weather changing activities: “artificially increasing the level of precipitation in order to cause floods and paralyze the enemy’s transport communications; artificially reducing the level of precipitation, in order to cause drought in enemy territories and difficulties in the supply of fresh water; the creation of unfavorable weather conditions that impede the conduct of hostilities (increased wind speed, deterioration of visibility); violation of radar and radio communication by direct impact on the Earth’s ionosphere. The use of technologies for changing the weather for military purposes leads to the destruction of infrastructure, paralysis of the economy, losses in agriculture, disruption of the work of state and commercial structures, mass casualties, large financial losses and demoralization of the local population.” Olena Shevchenko and Kira Horiacheva, Impact of Weather Change Technologies on Global Security, Land Forces Academy Review, Vol. X XVI, No. 4(104), 2021, DOI: 10.2478/raft-2021-0042
“increased wind speed?” check “unfavorable weather conditions?” check “artificially reducing the level of precipitation, in order to cause drought?” check “demoralization of the local population” check, check and check! Well they can certainly count me in! It’s indeed demoralizing to see the bumblebees out because it’s over 80 degrees for a week and all is blooming, only to then frost and kill all the buds. Including the fruit trees. Or to be told by a young gardener that ‘winter is our dry season’. What? Since when?! So I guess all seasons now are our ‘dry season’. Except for when it suddenly floods in one county while the neighboring county stays bone dry. Or the crazy winds that make these sudden and highly unnatural shifts with storm-level gusts that continue for days making any outdoor activity really unpleasant, if not impossible. Soon every five mile radius will have its own climate, and the technocrats will cheer, even if it makes vast swaths of the world uninhabitable by all but the scorpions and robots and data centers.
Can you see the honeybees on the henbit? The henbit does really well as a groundcover even through our last ‘wintery mix’ (used to be called snow). They also like the other early bloomers and I LOVE to see them. But, for bee sustainability it’s not a good thing, necessarily. If they build up their colonies too quickly too early there will be a lot of starvation of the young brood if (when) the temperatures plunge again killing off the buds.
Until that time I guess we’re stuck here counting our blessings.
We did get that frost, and now we’re going right back up to the 80s.
A few garden blessings doing well, one box under protection with lettuces, radishes, the last of the crucifers, some parsley and cilantro
Crucifers, like many veggies, do not like weather whiplash
Atleast if we can share some credible and valuable information while it’s available to us, the next generation might know more what they are in for when they move to the country thinking they’ll start a farm or homestead in order to escape the rat race. Newsflash, you might want to research underground gardening, because between the inclement weather and the cost of energy you won’t be able to garden, indoors or out!
It really helps to start seed indoors, an extra protection from weather whiplash season, but it’s not exactly economical these days. Growing here are lots of tomatillos, my garden mission this year, and more broccoli, flowers, squash and lettuce.
Everybody’s doing it, nowhere to escape!
Oldfield, J. D., & Poberezhskaya, M. (2023). Soviet and Russian perspectives on geoengineering and climate management. WIREs Climate Change, 14(4), e829. https://doi.org/10.1002/wcc.829
“Soviet science contributed significantly to our understanding of anthropogenic climate change and, as part of this, played a central role in the emerging science underpinning climate modification and geoengineering initiatives. A key focus of discussion was the use of stratospheric aerosols linked to the innovative ideas of Mikhail Budyko and colleagues. This work had its origins in what has been termed the theory of aerosol climatic catastrophe, which gained prominence in the Soviet context during the early 1970s.”
Onions also don’t like weather whiplash, but we usually get a decent crop I finally got most of the strawberries replanted. They multiplied like rabbits last summer and I gave wheelbarrows full to the neighbors and still plenty went into the compost. It’s taken quite a lot of effort to get the strawberries to multiply during our summers, but I think I finally figured it out. We’ll have to wait and see how well they produce in a couple of months. I’ll keep y’all posted!
Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to watch your skies!
(A re-post of one from 2016, happy 10 year anniversary to Kensho! Funny-not funny, my viewpoint has not changed a bit!)
I wish I could say I was not guilty of it. I watched on two different days last week as a coyote trotted off contentedly first with a duck, then a chicken. The latter time I was outside, with our very large Dane-Mastiff guarding, reading on the deck as the coyote pranced by 200 feet from us, without any chicken ever making a sound to alert our attention.
I did shoot at it, far too late, but I was so slow and stunned I hardly had a chance. I asked on social media whether, had they been faster than me, if they would have choosen to shoot the thieving coyote with their cameras or their guns. Most chose cameras, which demonstrates a double-bind, I believe.
We have lost sight of the predator/prey relationship. In fact, when we look closely into New Age groups and the major push in education currently, the prey has been deluded into believing they can transform the predator into something ‘better’ or “safer” or at least less scary.
The prey goes into school and later even therapy so as to come out better adapted at the game and to his role as prey. The predators understand perfectly this relationship can be best described by the old parable of ‘the frog and the scorpion.’ Since at least Biblical times, it has always been the same game. The predator/prey relationship is easily paralleled to our more civilized equivalent of Master/slave, which can be extended further to our current neo-serf system of Parent/child and State/citizen.
I fancy myself aware, self-reliant, pro-active, resourceful. Yet, in my ‘truth quest,’ which a great many of us have been on for many years now, I’ve demonstrated my talent at pointing fingers, shifting responsibility, projecting, and most grievous and destructive of all, further nurturing an identification complex. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Identification_%28psychology%29
An identification complex is plaguing seemingly all of society right now so I have plenty of company. We are all pointing our fingers at the 1%, or in the case of “truthers” or “conspiracy theorists” the .001%, as the core problem with the world. We criticize from one side of our mouths and go along with the other. We go along in hundreds of different ways every day. We fall for their fashion and entertainment, we sit in their schools and on their boards and in their governments. On the surface there seems to be little other choice. When someone opens their eyes wide enough to see this is the same master/slave relationship indoctrinated and institutionalized at ever level of the system that has existed since the beginning of history, we are then met with the next inconvenient truth: We are only looking at the gameboard, we are not understanding the game.
We the slaves both despise and envy the master, and the master knows this and uses it against us. Obedience is the price and the master sets the terms. Our role is to remain passive and uncomplaining against the unspoken contract. When the noose tightens, some slaves become restless and resentful, while others adapt by learning to breathe more shallowly. Livestock breeders use identical methods. This is how the system perpetuates and exacerbates to such an imbalance that an excess of predators disrupt the natural order until collapse is inevitable.
Of course the game is rigged! And if you had your way, it would be rigged in your favor. Your preference might be: I want it to be fair and safe for everyone, for there to be no predators or prey, nomasters or slaves, and many might support you, to the point they’d be willing to become the predators in order to preserve your collective safe-space.
What we see politically we are also allowing in our personal and professional lives. We feel the boot, there are fewer in denial everyday. We know we are being surveilled and minimized and made obsolete. We know we are victims and we react in one of the many ways they know we will, as prey always will: Fight, Flight, Fawn, or Freeze. If one can find another courageous enough to rebel, he is also lost eventually, because to rebel is to remain still inside the game. They have plenty of room for rebellion, they count on it, they thrive on it.
“I can hire one half of the working class to kill the other half.” Jay Gould
Obedience is the prey’s cost in the master/slave, State/citizen relationship, making the passive society become increasingly easy prey; little more than a flock of smiling depressives. These easiest of prey develop a quintessential need for their one-season world, for un-natural order, until passivity replaces fear and we all become the woman watching the coyote trot by with one of her ducks, too slow and maladapted and untrained to stop him.
When one is lucky enough to find another who has the courage to change the game, or at least give it a go, one has met the Fool soon to replace the Father. The game changes when we ourselves change, it’s an inside-out process, not an outside-in. We choose en masse, to not be prey or predator. We choose to have no rulers. We choose Autonomy, Sovereignty and Self-government.
The ones who understand you must stop the predator or soon all your poultry will perish are the ones rebelling, which the masters then flaunt in front of the more passive prey to get them focused toward each other. The fawns point fingers at the fights, the freezes blame the flights, and around and around we go.
Where will we stop? Does somebody know?
When the most passive meets the predator enface they realize their only hope is one they’ve been trying to avoid all along. Because the most unpleasant truth of the human condition from the mindset of the frog is that not every frog has to become aware of the nature of the scorpion, they just have to become aware faster than the last frog.
Here’s some research links I know could really benefit some of my fellow frogs.
For your personal life and relationships: Ollie Mathews, an ingenious entrepreneur helping victims of narcissistic abuse by reading their often painful letters on Youtube. Understanding this co-dependent dysfunctional relationship is crucial to understanding how it’s playing out in the Big Game:
Just some happy snaps with minimal commentary this post, because it’s been too long. With more coming very shortly, as soon as my new keyboard arrives, because I loathe the hunt and peck method of the digital keyboard.
Some aged cheeses and winter herbs: smoked cheese on lees, kenshobert, pepper havarti, dill havarti and cheddar, with some fresh sage, cilantro and rosemary.
My biggest cheese this season from 9 gallons, caraway cheddar aged in a poke-tinted tallow coating. Unfortunately, it’s not my favorite. Fortunately, others like it fine so I happily gave the whole thing away.
My personal favorite, my signature Kenshobert, a local take on Camembert.
A large dill havarti and variety of experiments, most quite good!
Sharing a charcuterie board of cheeses and cured lamb.
A winter harvest of romaine, onions, herbs, radishes and even an orange from our little shrub and some cherry tomatoes because it’s been so unseasonably (and unnaturally) warm. Plus a pot of today’s milk becoming clabber for tomorrow’s cheese.
A Christmas bumblebee!
Unusual winter roses turning strange colors.
A few more happy snaps . . .
A darling bird of prey I watched right off our balcony from our recent quick roadtrip to Gruene in the Hill Country.
Also in Gruene, a so-called ‘mud-flooded’ building, more coming soon on that conspiracy theory in the new year.
They have preserved some gorgeous trees there from the ever-encroaching urban sprawl, and more power to ’em!
“Papers, please!” was a running joke among Western expats living in Eastern Europe. I wonder how many of them now carry a permanent spying device with great pleasure or perhaps even cheerfully signed on to the digital passport program, first in line, buying into the ploys of safety and convenience.
The Globe was supposed to move in the other direction entirely! We won the Cold War, supposedly, in order to NOT be treated like the perpetual citizen-criminals of Kafka’s stories.
Eastern Europe in 1989 was a surreal place for a young university sophmore voyaging long distances by train alone for the first time. It was at once charming and derelict, welcoming and suspicious, familiar and mysterious.
On the one hand I never felt physically threatened, not even as flaneuse on the city streets at night. On the other hand the decrepid state of the infrastructure whispered danger somehow, because neglect itself is a dark force.
On the one hand the relative poverty was palpable, though my midwest suburban upbringing was middle class, great food variety and consumer goods were far more available. On the other hand their resourcefullness has had a lifelong impact on me and was my first critical look at the innate and corrupting consumerism of my little world.
I didn’t speak the languages and there were very few English speakers. I got by, barely, with French, rudimentary German and smiling, mostly. Americans were considered automatically suspect, so some travelers would claim to be Canadian at any venue not requiring their passports.
Already on the issue of passports I was laughingly naive.
A variety of stamp collecting, or paving the way for the Global digital gulag? It was an especially exciting moment in the expats life when your passport got so full of stamps you had to go pronto to the nearest embassy to get new blank pages stapled into the back of the official document.
Interestingly, while Americans were considered automatically suspect, there was still a sort of cult following that adored America and those who were positively thrilled to meet one, and I made it a point of meeting those unique sorts.
I went on to be a Peace Corps volunteer there a few years later precisely because of my immediate attraction to this region. I felt compelled to know it better and the fact I had the opportunity to spend three more years there, mostly in Czech Republic, but traveling the region extensively, was in fulfillment of my deepest desires and longings at that time.
For all that I loved it, there I also felt my greatest repulsions.
The dystopian Kafkaesque bureaucrocy I experienced was not just fiction. The general acceptance of the populace, while not exactly Stolkholm Sydrome toward their Soviet occupiers, was still a quiet resignation which struck me as particularly pathetic considering their far more astute knowledge of history.
My old passports are the best symbol with which I can try to express my current level of despair seeing my greatest repulsions come to fruition all around me, even as we ‘the Capitalist West’ were the supposed winners of the Cold War.
What did we win? A military industrial complex acting against the best interests of its people. A Corporatocracy run by corrupt public-private partnerships which pretends not to be a fascistic system. Progress that is defined entirely by blind acceptance of anything stamped with the Technocrat seal of approval. Endless paving over of the countryside for roads and minimalls and condos and tourist traps in the ugliest construction ever known to ‘civilized’ man.
Civilization itself has morphed into something totally uncivil, hideous and expanding entirely out of control.
I, like many other intrepid travelers, thought of the passport merely as the modern equivalent of the old travel trunks stamped fashionably with destinations. We thought of them as a collection of strange signs and symbols we’d forever associate with our new memories of far-off places. They were the paper images of our wanderlust we planned to show one day to the grandkids, not knowing they would be holding a digital scrolling device we’d rarely be able to pry from their clutches.
Just a decade ago this was all ranch land
“Once traditional farming systems have been destabilised by the debt-trap of subsidised loans, structural adjustment policies, corporate input regimes, global supply chains, patented seeds and monocultural production, mass migration to cities becomes an inevitability engineered from above. The city thus absorbs the displaced because the countryside has been systematically stripped of opportunities or carved up for infrastructure or real estate schemes.”
What if we’d been given the actual choice, not the strategically invented one, between our current paradigm of progress as a global militarized surveillance state and the ‘stagnation’ where the Eastern Bloc resided for half a century?
This, or this?
Electric prison bars or progress?
Do folks really think WHEN this whole shitshow goes tits-up there will be government funding for the clean-up and restoration of this once beautiful land?
That I don’t want this EVER, for ANYONE makes me some kind of bitter-clinger communist?
“ALA’s annual State of the Air report found that 156.1 million people—46 percent of the population—now live in counties with failing grades for ozone or particle pollution, nearly 25 million higher than last year. Previously less-affected areas, such as Minneapolis, saw significant spikes in unhealthy air days tied to climate-exacerbated wildfires and particle pollution, such as dust.”
Universities funded by public-private partnerships clandestinely tamper with our atmosphere using euphemistically-named scientific jargon like ‘Plume dispersions’ as if this is not mass poisoning?
A hellscape of ‘progress’ in the form of the most ugly, extractive and intrusive landscapes imaginable?
How did ‘WE’ win in this global game that began long before I was born?
What kind of twisted minds call this progress? We have 70 years of documented atmospheric tampering while officialdom continues in denying its impact, which is now going into overdrive while the voices of the livid citizenry, especially those losing their livliehoods in the rural regions, get squashed. Same as it always was.
“Similarly, Gerard Winstanley, writing in the 17th century, envisioned a society in which land and labour were shared as a common good, not commodities to be exploited. His insistence on communal responsibility and ecological justice underscores the radical, enduring potential of agrarian ethics against the logic of extraction and profit.
In this light, the critique of urban-centric development becomes more than an economic critique. It represents a challenge to the very definition of progress. The rejection of the celebratory narrative of neoliberal modernity is a philosophical insistence that a society cannot be judged by its technological prowess while its ecological foundations crumble and its people are alienated from the sources of life.
The modern city, therefore, becomes a battleground where two visions of civilisation confront one another: the dominant model of corporate-led, centrally managed growth and the fragile but persistent ethic of stewardship, locality and shared responsibility. As made clear in my new open access book, The Agrarian Imagination: Development and the Art of the Impossible (available here), genuine human development cannot be measured by urban skylines or GDP figures but by the survival of relationships between people, land and community that give meaning to life.”
