Monthly Archives: July 2012

Soul Asylum

Insert melon joke here.

Therapy weeding! Towards my goal of kicking depression in the nads, I’ve spent the past two and a half days out in the gardens TCB. I feel way better.

Today is a half day, because (tip: don’t get old) I’m old. I was all gung-ho the past two days, saying “Fuck you” to the heat, work periods longer than break periods, drinking lots of water, taking my supplements, working seven hour shifts. Today, I’m ass-hammered. I got out to the watermelon patch all set to finish and yeeahhhh, there’s my back, telling me I’m 46, still 30 lbs. overweight (lost some on Atkins already), take an Aleve for your back and go back inside, you dork. So I weeded some, messed with the birds, and came back inside.

Here’s what I’ve learned from my recent gardening experiences:

  • Taking non-specific depression rage out on caterpillars feels nice. Almost as nice as the *pop* they make when I punch them right in the dirt, bright green ooze squishing out of both ends. I used to be squeamish about killing them. Now, I dig it. Eat my cabbages HOW, no face?
  • I’ve developed a peripheral vision superpower because of my hyper-vigilance for spiders. After the black widow scare and given the number of wolf and brown recluse spiders I’ve seen and killed over the past few months, I’m like a side-seeing ninja. I can’t think of all the applications, but I’m sure there are a million. Call me for rates.
  • Notwithstanding the above superpower, I did have a wolf spider jump on my tits while I was weeding by the pool. It sent me into a screaming fit that could probably be heard in town. Way after the spider had been sent sailing far away by my spastic hand movements, I was still screaming.
  • My formerly sweet geese are now kind of jerks. I’ve been spending a lot of time in the big garden lately, adjacent to the poultry yard, and not only do they challenge me in the mornings when I come let them out*, but they bully the chickens a little. Not enough to separate them, but enough for me to understand that my babies have grown up into delinquent jerks, and I’m kind of rethinking my position on having them as foie gras instead of long-time pets.
  • People who read my craigslist ad (invisible subtitle: Check Out My Melons!) are probably too stupid to deserve my melons anyway. That said, what the fuck am I going to do with all these melons?

One of the sex-link chickens (not quite ready for laying pullet) has a bum leg. It’s not bumblefoot and she’s not bleeding, so I’m hoping it’s just a sprain. I’m fortunate in that this is my first animal injury, and it’s a pretty easy one. Diagnosis: bum leg. Treatment: keep away from jerks, and give extra supplements. She seems to be hopping around okay, and two of the other hens are (shockingly) keeping an eye on her and making sure she gets food and water.

*Every morning between 6:15 and 6:30 I go and let the birds out of the coop. Every morning for the past few weeks, the geese kind of hang back and talk to me. *Bapbapbapbap* So I talk back, of course. Then they started flapping their wings, a few days later. Kind of experimental, one, then the other, then the third goose, flapping then settling. Then a few days later, it progressed to big flaps, and talking REALLY LOUDLY to me.

“I will be delicious!”

Then, and this was the last straw, they started spreading their wings, yelling at me, and RUSHING me. Ohhhh, that will not stand. So the first time they did it, I raised my arms like wings and said, “Oh, FUCK no,” and advanced on them and they backed down.

Then, they started the funniest thing ever and I hope I can catch it on video. I start to walk out of the yard, and I hear *flapflapflap* *shuffleshuffle* and turn around really quick, and they drop their wings, and resume scrounging in the grass. “What? Just eating some bugs. What up, mama lady? Doodly do.” Then I turn around to leave and it happens again. At least twice before I get out of the yard. Seriously cracks me up.

A week ago I was heaving tomatoes at their heads in consternation. Now it’s cracking me up. Baby steps.

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Good Day

I don’t normally write in the evenings; it’s just not my brain’s creative time. I’m usually tapped, mentally, by 5:00 or 6:00 p.m. Anyway, today is different because today was pretty freaking great. And nothing really happened.

Not mine, but close enough. So sad…

The heat has been bumming me out for a few reasons, mostly because it was hastening what I thought was the demise of all the garden vegetable plants. They’ve looked miserable and stopped producing.  I tried watering consistently (even doubled the schedule for about a month), Neem oil/baking soda/vinegar for potential disease and insects, compost side-dressing for nutrients. Then, I tore out a few dead tomatoes and kind of gave up on the rest of the gardens. Brown, sad, non-producing, cat-faced tomatoes, no fertility. I thought it was blight, but nope. It’s just been so fucking hot and dry that they were giving up. The  squash was dying; the green beans gave up weeks ago. Pepper plants looking droopy and sad, with no fruit or flowers. The only thing thriving is the watermelons. Nothing can stop them. They’re aliens.

Well, a few good rains and cloudy days last week changed everything. Real rain is simply unbeatable. The plants perked up and more miraculously, started coming back. The tomatoes and peppers have new blooms on them, they’ve set well, and we’ll be getting new tomatoes in a month. The squash (“”Prolific”…I can’t recommend this squash enough) has gone crazy again, after slowing down for a few weeks.

What happened today is I finally had enough of neglecting the gardens we worked so hard to establish, so I got to work outside. I started weeding at 7:00 a.m. I worked on and off all over our gardens and yard for almost six hours, with frequent breaks. I deadheaded flowers, Neemed everything, composted, hoed the beds, tore out big grass around the pool by hand, blew out the pool filter system, battled wolf spiders, put away tools that had been left out, cut down the spent sunflowers to harvest the seeds tomorrow, found the laying hen’s new hidden nest, stood down the geese when they charged me this morning.

It was a normal day on the farm. One I’ve not experienced in months, and haven’t even really wanted to, because the second effect of the heat for me is that it kind of saps my will to live. I get depressed, and that’s a fact. Lost interest in normal activities, fits of extreme fatigue, loss of appetite, erratic sleep, intermittent bouts of sadness, and even inappropriate anger. Money worries, sick and dying family, frustration over a couple of stalled projects…

This summer has been hard, but for unexpected reasons. I anticipated the bugs and heat and physical exertion to get the better of me, sooner rather than later. What has actually happened is my heart gave out, figuratively speaking. Texas summer tried to suck away my will and spirit. So I’m going to keep an eye on this tendency towards lethargy when faced with Texas douchebaggery. It’s a stupid cycle, and nobody I know or love deserves to be around it, least of all me.

So, suck it summer. You are not the boss of me.

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Tragedy and the Second Amendment

I’d like to share our heartfelt sadness for the lives lost and the people touched by the tragedy in Aurora, Colorado. I will honor the memory of those lost by never mentioning that fucktarded madman’s name aloud or in print. That useless piece of shit deserves to be banished from humanity, by whatever means necessary.

We don’t dial 911.

That said, I’m going to share that here on the farm, we are gun friendly. I won’t share what we own or what we wish we had (oh, chef has a looong list). Guns for us out in the rural Texas countryside mean safety from predators, both human and non-human. They mean food if the system breaks down. They mean a sense of security for me, when I’m home alone during the day while the chef’s at work. Security for myself and security for our animals and belongings. In America, (and especially in Texas) they mean I might not even need a gun to be safe from human predators, because the chances of you breaking into a house in rural Texas and finding an unarmed home-owner are probably 100 to 1. Go ahead, asshole, try to rape me or steal my TV.

Here in the United States, the right to own guns is VERY polarizing.  One could spend days arguing for or against. It’s as divisive as the arguments regarding capital punishment.

To me, it is another instance in which one crazy fuckhole can ruin everything for everybody. That this tragedy has turned into another excuse for the powers that be to try to take away American citizens’ Constitutional rights to own guns angers me. Hugely. Like a sun-sized fireball of anger.

This is not about our right to bear arms, American politicians. United Nations? This is not about your wishes to take away our Constitutionally-mandated right to own firearms. This is about one piece of batshit crazy TURD who felt the need to smear his brand of shit stain over the populace. This is about one person’s actions, not the entire population’s.

What I know is that folks who take the CHL classes, take the certification exam, get their guns and their license to carry concealed are not crazy fuckers intent on harming anyone. They’re generally gun nerds who pour over websites drooling over stock finishes and caliber sizes. Even the gun nerds who DON’T have a CHL are generally just safety- and security-conscious and watch a lot of Military Channel. They like Chuck Norris movies, chicks with big tits, and shooting at targets with Osama Bin Laden’s face on them. BIG FUCKING DEAL.

In many parts of this country, gun ownership is generational. I grew up shooting handguns and shotguns with my Dad and my brothers. We didn’t hunt; my Dad just had guns. Big fucking deal.

Gun nerds have ranges, both outdoor and indoor, that they frequent to get hours and hours of practice in towards the goal of being expert marksmen/women. If they live in the country, they might even have an amateur range in their own backyard (I hear gunshots all the time out here in the country, btw. Too many to be considered just driving away a coyote…These dudes are practicing with their semi-autos). They are sometimes NRA members. They probably vote for whomever is going to support the Constitution (which is neither current candidate, in my opinion). They congregate with other gun nerds either online or in person and talk about wind drift and twist and Picatinny rails. Or if they’re like me (not a gun nerd), they occasionally practice at home, sometimes buy ammo at WalMart, and rarely even think about guns, even though they’re in the house. Safeties are on, plenty of ammo, we sleep better at night. Period. Personal choice. Totally legal.

Know who DOESN’T get training or legally license their weapons? That’s right: criminals.

Fact: The murder rate is in Houston since private gun ownership rates have gone up is down by 37% from 2010.

Coincidence? Who the hell knows.

What I DO KNOW is that an asshole fired those weapons. A misanthropic, stinky piece of dogshit killed those innocent people. Society didn’t do it. Satan didn’t do it. Inadequate security didn’t do it. Batman didn’t do it. A lone fuckwit did it.

Keep your fucking reactionary laws off our farm, thanks.

Tagged , , ,

Pigs and Pools

That freaking hole took us 2-1/2 hours to dig (heavy clay…SO MUCH FUN. *sigh*).

The pig bury was a success (and thank God, because that would have been a $150 mistake we can’t afford right now)! See, we didn’t actually know what we were doing. I’ve only ever attended other peoples’ pig buries (in Hawaii), and the chef has only ever read about it/seen videos.

Opera gloves and a hula skirt. It’s a party, y’all.

So we said, “Fuck it, let’s do it anyway cuz it’s awesome,” and dug a hole, got the completely wrong kind of rocks, a 35 lb. pig, and blisters on our hands.

We started digging the hole at 6:30 a.m. on Friday. Then at 2:00 p.m., Allan started burning pecan wood in the hole. Then he kept burning wood. For six more hours. Then he poured the lava rocks over and DOUSED THE COALS accidentally. Then he burned more wood for two hours. At 10:00 p.m., we put in the banana leaf-/burlap-/chicken wire-wrapped piggy in the ground, covered it with dirt, a tarp, more dirt, and prayers that we weren’t going to disappoint our friends and family with pig that had to be finished in the oven.

BUT HUZZAH, when we pulled that bad boy out at 2:30 p.m. on Saturday, mothahfuckah turned out porkalicious and nobody got trichinosis! (I tamed down the photo carnage for the faint of heart with my mad Paint skills. You’re welcome.)

We swam, we sweated, we ate, we blew stuff up. It was 98 degrees until we were finally (three months of waiting!!!) blessed with some rain. Friends and family brought booze and food and chairs and it was alllll good.

Next time, bigger pig!

Tagged ,

art

monet's liliescrazy leavesbird landscape07-11-2012 10;02;33AM4courtyardstill life
tomatoessunflowersfountainrelaxmonet's nasturtiumsgardening stuff
color floral

art, a set on Flickr.

For anybody interested, current artwork for sale! Thanks.

Post regarding the pig bury/pool party later today!! (Hint: IT WAS FUN!)

Advertisements