Archive for May, 2014

As I clicked on the "add new" post menu item, I realized that the last entry was offering number 70. Thought, that calls for a celebration. With the exception of autonomic nervous function and basic fight or flight mechanisms, i've hardly done anything seventy times. Cracked a brew (room temp., full flavored) and sauntered out to the pond, where I breathed it in for awhile. "In with the psychotic, out with the merely ridiculous." Advanced Vipassana stuff. There's a scent to the water that tells you how healthy it is. In this case it was a very healthy aquatic scent blended with inia blossoms in full flower and oozing a lilac perfume fit to tie any flying insect gone berserk over a signal so strong that crab spider webs pose no obstacle. The "must have" impulse overriding any semblance of control. Kamakaze mentality. The scent of a woman. The "Inia" (Melia azaderach (sp?) is a cousin to the good and benevolent Neem tree. Both mahogany family and although of lesser use, the Inia has insecticidal and vermifugal properties. Also a great "nurse" and canopy tree. The ground up seed cake from the neem oil press is used for fertilizer with a real nice macro and micro nutrient profile, so I'd imagine the inia seed would as well. Anyone? I went ahead and settled into one of the eclectic blend of yard furniture giving the area surrounding the pond a feel of hippie chic meets Sunday yard sale drive by. When I start piping in the Doors, passers by will have acid flashbacks. Fun summer stuff. Took a full swallow of the lemon shandy and savored the flavor. Felt my eyelids relax. Set the beer down on a rock and picked up the fish food bucket. Tossed a handful out over the algae green ripples. Tossed another couple of few. There's really nothing else to do. Watching doesn't really describe it. It's more like surrendering to a very mesmerizing effect (endorphin release?) of brightly colored fish swimming, eating, showing off, daring you to try to be even remotely as fluid and at ease. Took another full swallow and set the beer down on that rock. Ol' doc Bebokbak, the poultrypuncturist stopped in the other day to chew the shoe. He was, of course accompanied by Nurse Sally, newly minted Bebokbak. They were aglow and told me that they had a little one on the way. "No way", says I. "Way", says they. Went on to tell me that Ferdy, the bull that pastures over at Ventura's place finally got it up and schtooped their prize hereford who is now 'specting. They were beside themselves because, new life. The promise, the hope, the renewal, the legacy, plus it's kinda fun to watch bovine porn for the strictly lizard brain satisfaction of it. Anyone? Talked to him a bit about my plan to consolidate our six groups of birds into three groups and open up former enclosures to new plantings and design strategies. Also wanted to try to go feed free and let the feathered freak shows fend for themselves. Interested to see how the egg count goes if we use just whats growing and keep the areas watered in dry times so that bugs seek it out. Also still open to give away of elders of the flock. Still good foragers and will continue to lay for quite some time. Amazing how hard it can be to give shit away. He looked at me somewhat quizzically and said, "you're gonna piss them off, ya know". I told him that I could live with their iracibility and that I'd done battle with them before and prevailed. He chuckled, remembering the time i took away their chicktendo machines and sedated their water supply. Worked well until I started getting egg customers coming to me and saying, " I nodded out after eating an omelet this morning, wtf?" I had almost nodded out when the text came in. Mesmerizing. Took the text and another swallow, right there by the pond in the middle of the part of the circadian cycle that suggests that just to the right of midday is a great time to have a bit of a nap. I like it when my body does the deciding. Tossed in a bit more food just to get a closer look at the fry. They're growing fast and healthy with some real beauties showing up. Can't help but see some dollar signs. Nice to know that the exchange will lead to some meditative moments and enough money to travel the world like the shoeless, mandolin totin' vagabond I've always wanted to be. I can dream, can't I. I think there is actually a bill in front of Congress right now, prohibiting the right to dream. Algorithms have been developed that allow the NSA to monitor the brain waves of any cell phone user, and if they see dream waves emanating from your i phone they will send a powerful electromagnetic pulse directed at your brain stem which will, in turn cause a small electronic storm in the folds of the frontal lobe. Kind of a "one flew over the cuckoos nest" moment. Those who can't afford cell phones get a reprieve because they can't afford to have dreams. So, I picked up the beer to enjoy the last swallow. Tilted it back and as the last of it hit my throat, so did a large fly. Its not that I just hate when that happens because its a total buzzkill,  its also because you can't help but wonder what pile of poop it engaged with its suck tube just before hopping into the beer. Life's full of little surprising moments. My typical response: mustuv needed that. Lastly, the dept of health has decided that instead of paying fifty bucks for a two year vendor permit, us farmers market types must now pay per view. That's right. If you are the simplest (like me) type of vendor with eggs and mostly fresh fruits or veggies, you must pay 25 smackeroos to get twenty visits to the market of your choice per one hundred twenty days. If you do two markets, must jump through hoop number two and double your loss of civil liberty. This effectively increases the cost of vending at least three hundred percent and farmers who vend at two or more places and who have say, cooked food or value added stuffs, must present their noses for fee assessment before paying through them. Good times. I will remain optimistic in the face of so many portents of looming doom, knowing  that the seditious behavior of growing ones own food and living outside the "law" are finally and at last the only refuge in which I can be at peace and should at least give me some bonus points when I talk Levels with Lucifer. Week in brief: The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp      

I just right now figured out why I don't write more ( of course when you actually read this it won't be just right now, but go with it). Life on the farm is fucking ridiculously busy, and that's not the half of it. Spend a few moments in my mind and see if you don't need a stiff drink. Now it seems to me that farmers should, by all rights get to piss and moan at least as much as say, a Minnesota postal worker on a walking route in mid winter or a lion tamer lobbying for better safety gear, or a Sherpa guide putting up with the desecration of Mt. Everest.  It becomes a compare and contrast kind of thing. I just got back from two whole weeks on the eastern coast of america, in a quaint little college town called Princeton. My mommy lives there, and coming from her womb, as I do, I am inexorably drawn to the bond. My life of suffering, scratching out a living by clawing away at this rock pile and hoping to stay one step ahead of Death in all forms, only allows me to break away a couple of times a year for a measly ten to twelve days. Last year, in the spring, we conspired to build a trip around a Chris Thile concert at Richardson Hall on the splendid campus grounds. Mahmah was the driving force on the transformation of what was a "hall" really only fit for mud wrestling, into a magnificent venue for the arts, but especially music. Thile was on his "Bachtober Fest" tour and wove his way in and out of a musical mandolin tapestry that could only be described as masterful. It was freakin' Perfect. Don't say that very often. Didn't miss a note. Not a beat. Genius. We shook hands back stage and talked story a bit. My dreams for the next couple of night were full of laughter. So me and mah are doing our imitation of imitating mother and son being couch potahtoes. She, with her fifth crossword puzzle of the day and me watching the Players Championship. The munchie menu includes, brie, small rye bread squares, cold chicken, yummy pate of something, and an array of cookies which we dip into as we please. Take your choice of club soda or beer. I've got the mandolin within arms reach and she awaits the onset of Jeopardy,  a family tradition allowing us to see just how far behind the curve we really are. Hoo boy. She kicks the crap out of me each and every time. So mah gets up and takes a couple of steps to the computer, checks her mail and whaddaya know, Mr. Thile will be included in this years concert series in October. Not only that, he will be joined by Edgar Meyer. I'm beginning to kvell. So mah gives me a little eyebrow waggle and the conspiracy begins. Now spring and fall in Princeton could hardly be better timing. My arrival was in the midst of a retro winter hiccup but quickly segued into ideal Spring weather. Leaves pushing out everywhere, all shades of green. Flowering pear and cherry, crab apple blossoms, azaleas  of varied shades, pink and white dogwoods, wisteria and, lucky me, lilac in bloom with dandelions everywhere. And really that's not the half of it. I gained my usual four pounds ten ounces, mostly in goose fat and happy in doing so. Came back home to what I hoped would be a parched and dry environment with the hot and dry conditions that make this place so attractive to me, but NOoooooooo. More rain. Now some say that the "old" days are back, as in when this was the normal pattern, but I been out here a fuhrbit and can honestly say that mostly I don't remember, but that on balance over thirty four years, its been dryer than this, for sure. That much I do remember. If you see my propensity toward pissing and moaning beginning to surface, Well? In the interest of taking into consideration this shifting weather meme, we are moving into asparagus fed, farmed fish. Wait, no that's farmed fish and raised bed asparagus and golf ball trees. The dread fruit sucking moth bothers not a one of them. I do have to say that this rolling with the punches shit does get old. Urge to suppress P and M splooge weakening. Can't hold it in much longer. This solution orientation is good and all but its like the nagging mother in law, for whom you can do NOTHING right. "You think your done, sonny boy, c'mere." So next time you see a farmer, give us a hug and pay it forward. Had loads of fun playing with miss Meaghan at the Hana hou. Good to be back out playing. Meg is going to america to do some touring so I'm hoping to get my bud Nathan to come play with me for the next couple of months. Great singer song writer. Upbeat and with feeling. Been in touch with a couple of fellas from BCBC band, now sub-dubbed YumYum Beast and how cool is that? Like salsa just hot enough that you can't stop eating it, or every dessert that has ever tempted you to say no, and failed. Beware the YumYum Beast.Tried to beg my way into rehearsing a bit with them and then maybe sitting in at a gig or three. The response from Justin was, and I quote, "cool beans". Now I'm not from West Virginia, or Neptune, or wherever they use that expression, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that what that means is that he is open to the idea and to a certain degree shares my sentiment, but that he is not enthusiastic to the point at which he would respond "Hot beans". This is all completely kosher by me. The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp