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.
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.
Today is a particularly good day for introspection and quiet pondering. With the change from summer to fall (winter?), the multicolored leaves upon the ground and the bright but strangely soft quality of light this season brings, it encourages those “deep thoughts” and re-examining the “whys”.
I’m working on accepting: it seems that most of my life, I’ve railed against the admonition that I must just accept things with which I (often vehemently) disagreed. Now – arguably with the benefit of age influencing perspective – I do see that it would be prudent to practice acceptance under certain circumstances, like death. Despite my reflexive need to research, analyze, and solve every mystery, sometimes it just isn’t going to happen. I can work on accepting that – but I am still going to try to make sense of the universe in my own way.
May stodgy and non-productive approaches give way to fresh perspectives and renewed inspiration for you, too, in this transitional season.
I’ve lived in homes in two different states where when I first moved in, I had views of a verdant pasture with beautiful horses. At each, however, the horses disappeared within a couple of years, the properties sold for “development”. Sad, the price of development; sadder still is what happens to the properties that were once so green and humming with life.
Though they weren’t mine and I never actually met them, I miss seeing the horses. I remember the mare that used to live in the former pasture above, running with her white mane flying. I think her name was “Ellie” – a name shared by my Muscovy drake, and when I’d call for him, she’d come galloping. Itmust have been a bit confusing to her – why was I always calling her name? She may not be there anymore, but she gallops still in my mind’s eye.
As green spaces are eaten up by “development”, I wonder where all the wild creatures that used to call those places home will go. Where can they go?
It’s Halloween, traditionally a day filled with costumes and candy. Since we moved to a rural area, we no longer have kids ringing our doorbell, but we’ve kept the spirit of Halloween in our hearts (and in past years, even a hopeful bowl of candy…just in case). This year, though, there’s just one package of Justin’s Peanut Butter Cups for any intrepid trick-or-treater that knocks at the door…and I’ve been looking for a more meaningful reason to celebrate the day.
One of the ducklings died today. It was one of the last hatchers, the one with the most yolk that needed to be absorbed…which it did. Its navel had healed nicely and it seemed to be behaving normally until this morning, when it kept peeping, a sound very similar to a chick’s distress peeping. It wasn’t cold (it had easy access to the heat from “Mama Heating Pad”), its butt wasn’t pasty (I checked), and I saw it drinking. Its legs had grown stronger and it was much more coordinated today.
So why did it die? It’s a puzzle – there were no obvious signs of abnormality, it wasn’t injured, and even if it hadn’t eaten, its absorbed yolk could easily have sustained it through today. I know that I’m not going to have a definitive answer to this question, but I can’t help wondering if that duckling just wasn’t meant to live in this plane right now. I assisted it in hatching, and maybe it wasn’t meant to hatch at all…nonetheless, I don’t regret trying because the alternative (the duckling dying in the shell) would, at least to me, have been worse than it living briefly, interacting with other ducklings, dabbling in water, and being free of the confines of the shell. I’m just so sad that it never got a chance to take its first swim.
Wherever you are now, duckling, I hope you can swim, safely, to your heart’s content.