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Donald Trump can be shamed. That is the big news for today. Did not think this was possible.

Making more box turtles among the peanuts:

Homemade wooden buttons:

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Whoop tee doo

I keep running into folks who are surprised that I am retired. I tell them that as soon as I find management who can lead by good example and listen, I will work again. I am not looking for such management, but if I ever find folks I want to work with, I will post it here. Simple man; simple aims. In the meantime, enjoying whatever comes to hand including getting sawdust up my nose, piddlin in the garden, and waiting for turtle eggs to hatch. Hoping for a roadtrip north and east this Autumn. That is about it. Simple man; simple plans.

Whoop tee doo, mliswilltravel.

Short shrift

Oooops. Just so the subject of the work is not a detriment to the reputation of Emily Mitchell and her art work, please see below. Humor. Life. I really like it. And these banners are about 6 x 9 feet. Really wonderful feeling.

Deeper into Summer, more shallow in reading

I just don’t settle down and read much anymore. Too much to do [he says, who excels at ignoring housework in favor of piddlin in the yard]. Barbara Kingsolver remains entertaining via Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and I have piles and piles of books—and they remain in piles, including Orwell’s 1984. Like I said, 1984 is just too real these days, and even though I prefer non-fiction, this is not the dystopia I had in mind. Dang.

A visiting artist who works from photos did my portrait, which is something she says is her favorite thing to do. Emily Mitchell is from Austin, is a classroom teacher, has a new happy bubbly baby, and will be with us thru July. If you want to see her work and/or commission a portrait, go to emilymitchellart.com. She seemed to find a window into my sadness with her drawing, and I thank her for showing me what others see. At this point, I have given up on being able to change the world except in the case of those things I can put my hands upon. So be it; my sadness is well-earned, I think.

Things on the turtle front look up, with mini turtles sighted and fed. The figs are in, so turtles are being fed figs instead of strawberries, and I need to rework my strawberries (pull the woody ones and let the young ones come along). The sunflowers are taller than anything in my asparagus and perennial bed, which is to be expected, and the understory of peanuts is feeding everything with the nitrogen the legumes are fixing. Too wet for peppers and tomatoes to really prosper, but…..there is a silver lining somewhere, as the bumper crop of toads will provide evenings of song as soon as they find their voices. All ok here, you??

Hope you prosper, mliswilltravel.

Close relative of Jimmy Durante?

Road rocks from points West:

The Big Sweat is upon us

Dripping after moments in the heat and humidity, and salty at the end of the day, with stinging eyes when one rinses the face in the garden hose. Good for tomatoes and peppers, kinda hard on humans. My peppers really are not that well, as the slugs have eaten them off as fast as I can set them out. Hmmmm. Hotsauce futures not looking good, but I take heart in that the more slugs there are, the better the box turtles will get their protein. Balance.

The second crop of sunflowers and first crop of peanuts and field peas are doing well. Lotta rain this Spring, and kinda coolish. A friend who grows commercial garlic has suffered (rot, green sprouting, hard to get in the field), and I empathize with every commercial grower who has difficulties. What is a pastime for me is deadly serious for others, and I am so glad I am not a farmer/gambler. Would love to have a bigger patch to work, and be able to have a diversity of crops, including an orchard—but then I would have thousands of flowers and millions of weeds (instead of my current hundreds and thousands).

Reading some Barbara Kingsolver non-fiction, called Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It’s about trying to live in a self-sustaining manner on a patch of land in southwest Virginia. What she lacks in biological and botanical knowledge, Kingsolver makes up for in enthusiasm and a thorough exposition of the out of control corporate “food” industry. We have traded calories for quality. Wonder if Kingsolver and Michael Pollan know each other?

This trend of calories over quality may be reversible, like global climate change, but my generation will not know for sure. THAT is the question. Will this generation act to better coming generations? Same as it ever was. This is always the question, and improper, wrongheaded answers are the norm. Bless us all. The only comfort may be that those who have nothing (the subsistence folks, the meek) will do the best when it all comes crashing down. When the developed world is in turmoil because the grocery stores are empty, the meek will just be waking up to another hard day of surviving. Bless them, most of all.

May we all practice subsistence in our own ways, mliswilltravel.

Summer advances, my reading flags

Back in the arms of The South, sweaty, clinging, suffercating. We still have a breeze, so we are not in full Summer. This is the season where begins the rain envy. These days, one can see thunderheads, see the curtains of rain falling, and envy those under those rains for the good it is doing their gardens. This envy, of course, increases as the season dries and advances. It is so tempting to hear other folks’ thunder, smell their washing rain, and know that the clouds just aren’t coming your way. Ahhhhh. But so nice to be under one of those showers. There are a million drops in the air right now, falling to Earth and mobilizing the nutrients so the plants can use them, dampening the pets among us and making them appreciate their humans even more, and the thunder is making us all go back to our more primitive selves—staying indoors and staying out of the wet.

Finishing up Michael Pollan’s “Cooked” and trying to catch up on my magazines. Harper’s had a great play by play of the Snowden leaks in the May 2017 issue, I bleve, and the Funny Times chugs away on the humor and satire side of things. My reading comes in 15 minute segments as I doze off. Hmmmm. Need to apportion more time during the day, perhaps.

Read well, think well, act well, mliswilltravel.

Just can’t out-repurpose those librarians

Challis, Idaho–refrig and washer