I want a flock of meat birds...

I recently read a piece of philosophical musing on vegetarianism. It wasn't a great piece, so I am not linking it. However... It got me thinking about where the meat I am eating is coming from.

I really want a flock of meat birds. It would make me feel really good to have a giant freezer full of yummy chicken all winter, and to know they had a good life.

-a

Apples and chickens...

I am currently drooling, almost literally, over a chicken coop and flock set-up that is listed on Craigslist. If I had a chunk of land I would buy it in an instant, no question asked.

In other news, the house smells amazing. I have four racks of apples dehydrating, filling the whole house with that warm harvest season smell. Pumpkin pies last week, apples dehydrating this week. Must be autumn.

Chickens...

Last spring I bought six chickens. I gave two away to a friend and kept the other four. Her chickens began laying eggs today. This is very exciting because it means my chickens should begin laying soon as well. I came home today and made sure they had nice clean nesting boxes.

Fresh Eggs..... SO EXCITED.

As soon as let the chickens in their new home Pterry hopped up in her clean nesting box and started brooding. Usually they sleep perched, so the brooding seems like a good sign.

"And people in 'the summer' want ice water..."

I would like to make butter today. I am now the proud owner of a KitchenAid, and apparently you can use those to make butter.

I would like to get my back yard mowed today. Cut the grass down short, make the yard smell like summer.

I would like to curl up and finish reading Island by Huxley. And I sing the body electric by Bradbury. And Hocus Pocus by Vonnegut. And...

I would like to work with the chickens. Get their coop set up better. Get them a whole bunch of grass clippings, or let them run around the yard for a couple hours.

I am going to go hold office hours, teach about theories of self-justification, write on my thesis, drop of copies of tests for students to take, take a friend to lunch (that will actually be fun), go to a doctor's appointment, and then go write even more.

I would have made an excellent stay-at-home-wife, circa 1910.

Gratitude Post...

Today I am grateful for:

 - Fresh veggies straight from my garden. Cucumberscucumberscucumbers!

- Incredibly long and soft puppy ears. Attached to a puppy that can sleep through the night without needing out.

 - The first UU Church service in Fayetteville where I have felt a true sense of community.

 - Too many projects. I am so grateful to feel overwhelmed with work. I don't know what I would do otherwise.

 - Somehow managing to disentangle myself from some of the doubts and anxiety swirling around me.

 - A potential start-up is brewing in my head. Exciting!

- The simple and aesthetically pleasing use of stone in this area. Houses, walls, retaining walls, everything is made of rock.

Beautiful and Tragic.

There is a beautiful little stone house down the street from me. It has been occupied by the same couple for the last fifty years. It is on a huge lot. It is beautiful, in an ugly duckling sort of way.

It is being torn down. Well, it is for sale for 495,000. Which is only feasible if you consider it is a commercial lot. So, it is being torn down.

Let me introduce you to one manifestation of my dream home...

1.24 Acres.

It sits on four lots, minimum. It has an old gravel drive leading up to the house.

It is entirely made of hand placed stone. The front porch has a stone floor. The front step is a giant slab of stone. The individual windows are ledged with stone.

If I build a stone house it is going to be in the will that you cannot tear it down and sell it as a commercial property.

Currently...

Brewing sun tea. Green tea with grapefruit, to be exact.
Walking in creek beds with the puppies.
Smelling all the wild flowers along the pup's morning walk.
Watching fresh yogurt do it's thing in the sun.
Contemplating creative creations. 
Thinking about low-acid foods to help Jacob's heartburn.
Enjoying the sprinkler as it brings life to the garden.
Anticipating new potatoes.


**Format shamelessly stolen from SouleMama.**

Thinkin' again...

Contemplative day. Listening to a lot of Rehab. Although I don't worship the porcelain Gods, I think the underlying angst is the same.

Between mopin' around like a fourteen year old I need to:
-Build up the new bed.
-Plant pepper plants.
-Plant watermelon plants.
-Sweep up giant piles of dog hair.
-Mop defurred floors.
-Repaint ceiling where water leaked through durin' the great flood of '11.
-Put a giant pile of shit next to the road with a 'FREE' sign on it.
-Water the beans.

I can do this. Right? Right.

Edit: All in all, not too shabby. I didn't mop or get rid of stuff but I did transplant some parsley, wash and hang a load of laundry, and cook and eat dinner with Jacob. And make homemade frozen yogurt with fresh blueberries. =D

Rhythms of Life

It is remarkable to me how different the rhythm of my life is now than it was two or three years ago.

A few years ago I lived alone (or with a roommate) with a big solitary dog named Murphy. I had literally nothing that needed done in my life at a specific time.

Murphy required very little attention. He grazed on his food, he would let me know when he needed out, he basically required ten minutes a day of upkeep. (Pets aside. He was a whore for the pets.)

I ate healthy, but like a bachelor. Lots of easy-to-grab fruits, veggies, granola bars, and microwave pasta meals.

On the days I didn't have school you would likely see me slowly meander out of bed, find a granola bar, read some web comics. Maybe, MAYBE, do something productive like let Murphy out. If he asked.

I woke up this morning and immediately let Prophet and Odin out. I then took two seconds to let myself pee before:
      Putting on boots and a sweater. (Rain.)
            Going outside with the dogs.
                  Opening up the chicken coop so the chickens have run of the yard.
                       Turning on the light to the coop.
                            Refilling the chicken's food and water.
                                  Throwing some of the chicken poop on plants that need it.
                                       Pulling off the wet chickeny boots and sweater.
                                            Bringing the dogs inside and feeding them.
                                                 Making Jacob and my bed.
                                                      Taking the dogs back outside to poop.
                                                           Making myself a plate of food.
                                                                 Taking the dogs back outside to poop, again.
                                                           
What a different pace. The astonishing thing is that I am not doing dramatically less, overall. Instead I am fitting more in the same amount of time. Instead of wasting the first thirty minutes of each day waking up, I am spending it doing the things in my life that really need attention.

Being an adult... Still weird.

Cloud Sculptures

Three quotes have been shaping my thoughts today.

The first, rediscovered via these lovely ladies, is from Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club:

I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire nation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very very pissed off. 

The next from a radio ad. A quick Google search confirmed that this is their new slogan:

Wal-Mart. Save money. Live Better.

And the final quote, stumbled on while reading "Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters" by J.D. Salinger:

He [Buddy] would disprove of Muriel's mother, too. She's an irritating, opinionated woman, a type Buddy can't stand. I don't think he could see her for what she is. A person deprived, for life, of any understanding or taste for the main current of poetry that flows through things, all things. She might as well be dead, and yet she goes on living, stopping off at delicatessens, seeing her analyst, consuming a novel every night, putting on her girdle, plotting for Muriel's health and prosperity. I love her. I find her unimaginably brave.

This moment.

"{this moment} - A Friday ritual inspired by Amanda Soule. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

The mantra running through my head.

I rediscovered this poem today, via a post over at SouleMama.  I figured I would share it here and share some pictures of the little plot of earth I have.

Sowing the seed,
my hand is one with the earth.
Wanting the seed to grow,
my mind is one with the light.

Hoeing the crop,
my hands are one with the rain,

Having cared for the plants,
my mind is one with the air.

Hungry and trusting,
my mind is one with the earth.

Eating the fruit,
my body is one with the earth.

-Wendell Berry

Tatters. Growin' fast.

Onions.

Cauliflower. If the darn bunny doesn't get it.

Eggplant.

Rainbow Chard and Marigolds.

Rainbow Chard and a bumper crop of hail-damaged-Chevy-Cobalts.

Rosemary.

The fig twig. Still lookin' twiggy.

Lettuce around the Fig Twig.

Raspberries.

Peas. Specifically amazing Asian sugar peas.

Blueberries, hiding behind a cabbage that is going to seed.

More cabbage, also going to seed. This is going to get stir-fried up soon.

Strawberries.

More strawberries. I got excited about strawberries this year.