Peripatetic philomaths…focusing on what's really important, eating ethically and cleanly, fermenting, foraging/wildcrafting, practicing herbalism, and being responsible stewards of our land. Sharing our photos, musings, and learnings. Still seeking our tribe.
Watching the motion of waves has always been meditative for me, soothing and comforting. Is it because I’m a water sign? Perhaps…or perhaps it’s some faint memory of being in utero. Regardless, I could sit and stare at the water all day, thinking deep thoughts and wondering about the life in that environment, a world inhospitable to me but perfectly suited to them. Are there really two worlds, one on land and one in the sea?
Thinking about ocean life means thinking about how humans have impacted the denizens of the waterworld, like the fact that there are estimated to only be around 400 North Atlantic right whales alive now. Having been hunted to the brink of extinction in the beginning of the 20th century, banning the hunting of this species allowed their numbers to very slowly recover…until this last decade, which saw unusually high mortality, attributed primarily to human causes (ship strikes and entanglement in fishing gear).
On this trajectory, one day, there may be no more North Atlantic right whales. And the planet will be poorer for it.
Read more about the plight of the North Atlantic right whales here.
It’s not long after I went to bed and for some reason, I awoke with my mind active and the desire to write a bit. While I don’t like being up at this time of the night (morning?), I figured I may as well make the most of it. After all, a hatch is underway and it’s been a few hours since I last checked progress.
There seems to have been a run of misfortune on the farm recently, with a newly-hatched duckling and chick, as well as a young adult goose, dying in the past few weeks. This isn’t “usual” around here, but deaths are part of farm life. And I think it’s important to show that side of animal husbandry, too.
One of the six remaining geese from April’s hatch died today – photo above from happier times. She was the last gosling to hatch, needing a little assistance. From the beginning, she had what I can only describe as a “dreamy” look to her, as if she were always thinking of a far-off place. She grew normally and, until now, she’d been healthy and active like the others.
I’d hazard a guess that most farmers don’t spend too much time looking up at the sky and daydreaming – for obvious reasons: you look up and step into a hole or slip and end up covered in mud. Nobody wants that, and injuries aren’t funny when you have buckets to lift, you need to crouch and stoop, and there isn’t a “backup” to do the work for you. When I saw this morning sky, though, I had to stop pulling my cart loaded with feed buckets and rubber bowls – just for a moment – and take it in.
The soft, puffy-looking “dunes” invited pondering what lay beyond them: the ether. There was blue sky up there, and it peeked out from the cloud cover. I couldn’t help but wonder if, when sleep came, I could float up there, passing through the spun-cotton threshold into what’s above. Maybe I’ll find out.
What feelings or imaginings does this sky(ku) evoke in you?
I’m loath to admit that I’d been fooled into believing the myth that farmers were the lobby that advanced the idea of daylight saving. As a farmer now, it flies in the face of reason that farmers would want this wholly artificial and arguably harmful construct to replace the natural schedule set by actual sunrise and sunset. In researching the topic further, I now understand the real reason why we engage in the daylight saving scheme: business interests.