Archive for July, 2014

  There's a lot of things about being a chicken that I'll most likely never understand, which is probably for the best because after all, there's only so much time in the day to contemplate such mysteries and only so many moments in which it feels acceptable to be dumbfounded by a chicken, then one must move along. I got caught today wondering, out loud I might add, how it is that given twenty nest boxes in which to lay that the girls will crowd each other out of a single box by competing for the space, and then never actually lay an egg as though the jockeying for position took priority over that most primal instinct. Hmmmmm. Then they'll proceed to drop five or six in one box and ignore the flashing "vacancy" sign hovering over one empty nest after another. In this case it was a matter of finding six blue eggs in one nest box in a row of nests that had yielded not one egg in days. Now I sat down with a few of the girls to try to get some kind of notion as to how these decisions come about, but aside from a bit of the usual pekawking, soul scratching, sideways glances and my acute sensitivity to fowl language inflection, the mystery remains safe. Moving on. Got a mighty thumbs up from aquaponics John who came by to check out the progress in the watery realms of the Rancho. As I had hoped, the quality of the water, the vitality of the fish and the brainstorming session as to future moves all met with enthusiastic support. Talked a bit about souping up the system with a couple of aquaponic beds. What the heck, I like watercress. We got to talking about feed and percentage protein and gmo stuff and really exciting shit like that, when on a whim I grabbed a handful of glycine, shredded it up a bit and tossed it on the surface of lake bigshot. While one would not refer to this event as a feeding frenzy, it was not without interest. Nibbling was to be had. Tugging leaves under the surface for further shredding was observed. And the ultimate test which is that the fish will try practically anything floating around but will almost immediately cough it up if it resembles "junk" food. In this case the only aversion seemed to be the leaf size. Otherwise, they swallowed and went lookin' around for more. Thought about chopping methods that would yield bite size nugs. Dried fish food pellets in different colors, sizes and flavors for the discriminating fish came to mind. Dollar signs flashing. A way to cash in on this all encompassing mess of greenery, destined from its invasive start to be a thorn in the collective side of Hawaii. But before getting too far ahead, John said that the algae would provide all the nutrient density that the fish could need which is good, because I really only feed them to bring em' in close and commune. Here's an interesting factoid. During the afternoon feeding/dangling legs in pond/pre sunset pump up, I will often bring an instrument down and pick away. The fish hang close when I'm playing, even when the food is gone. They just kind of meander around nibbling at the surface flotsam and while not exactly eyeballing me, seem interested in what might be next on the musical agenda. Today I cruised without strings and spent some dangle time. They dawdled around the food for awhile but engaged with me in an entirely different way. Aloof and uncommitted, like ladies nite in Paia. The power of sound as expressed in music reaches under water to change behaviors. To favor a communal lingering. To stimulate a bridge between two ideas of life. Wish I could be a fish. I'd learn to play fish fiddle and dazzle the humans on shore. Looks like we've beaten the lace bug. You heard me. This is the innocuous looking diaphanous winged cuteness that hangs out under the leaves of the white sapote tree and other legal in the state of Hawaii for medicinal use plants, and slowly in a round about sort of way, sucks the chlorophyll out of the leaves. Clever little devil. Mostly doesn't seem to effect the fruit set or overall health of the tree, Buuuuut, it does. Been trying over the years to spray with the oh so useful neem oil/safers combo which works quite well, except that my backpack sprayer only sprays so high, so the hoi palloi in the upper limbs continue to re populate and with every new leaf flush the hope for clean growth is dashed on the rocks of psychosis, i.e. doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different result........... Now this is just like me. I've been down to Dells dozens of times for this or that and each and every time, I stand beneath the upper shelves that display their selection of battery powered sprayers, compare sizes and capacities (which i already know), scratch my brain way too hard and walk away with a roll of chicken wire. We're talkin' years here. Ah hoonded sheventee niyn dahhlersh (for the goyim, that's an old jewish guy saying a hundred seventy nine dollars). I made the leap. I took the plunge. I whipped out two benjies and left with a pocket full of loot. Picked up a motorcycle battery to power my new best friend and proceeded to treat my beautiful trees to their first new leaf flush in years that is free, ah say FREE of trace of lace. Note to self: what a Marooon. Week in Brief: I WILL be the Koilapia king of Kealakapu, got a new camera, film at eight, moms moving to maui to wwoof. You heard me. Chorus to an unwritten song in 3/4 time: "Forgive me.......        Me. Forgive you........       You, and maybe We get past this chowder head stew.   Forgive them........      Us. Forgive us.......             We, and maybe we get past this knucklehead spree."   The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp    

Its hard to imagine a more polarizing time.  And while I realize that we haven't quite hit the rapids ahead, barring a tipping point wherein heightened awareness brings about qualitative change, we look to be in for some mighty turbulent moments. I could whip out a bunch of toe curling examples of madness juxstaposed, but the one that always grabs me is the invisible intrusion and death grip of radioactivity in our midst. Being in one of the most beautiful places on earth, it is hard to imagine that there might come a time when the oceans are too toxic to enjoy, or the earth too hot to harvest. As I write, there is a typhoon some 600 miles wide with sustained winds of 123 mph, bearing down on Japan with Fukushima very much in play. The consequences of further damage to the crippled facility are very scary to unknown scary. One thing is certain, they involve the kind of radioactive material that scoffs at thousands of generations of life on earth. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure that Paul Stamets has already found a mushroom capable of gobbling down plutonium radionuclides and turning them into recyclable packaging material. And, we can probably leave the rest in the hands of the gmo folks who are almost certainly working on "mods" that give us super powers when in the presence of Americium isotopes. And leave us not forget the natural mutagenetic sequencing which we are already experiencing via so many "waves" and "chemicals" conspiring to take charge of our bodies and minds. Damn you, Koch brothers. One good thing to take away from all the moments that freak us to the bone is that each and every one of those instances offer an infinite number of choices, many of which are transformational  in ways yet unknown. Past is prologue, but the rest is Possibility. Thinking outside the box becomes an essential sacrament, and contentment becomes the cure. "He who remains content, contains content." Lao Tzu. Contentment, among other things is seeing that the young tilapia caught in the upper pond, a.k.a. Lake Bigshot have survived the transplant into the lower pond, a.k.a. Lake Inferior. The first such attempt was met by a complete die off due to chloramine toxicity. I let the pond get green with the first wave of algae brought in by some rain and tried again. Given that the chloramines are used for reducing algae, I figured a thriving algae colony would signal safe conditions. Threw some food in this afternoon and saw that the fry I had put in over several days had met up with each other and formed a tidy little school. Very chool. They actively nibbled away at the small round pellets and seemed frisky and healthy. Should be about six months till regular harvesting begins. Who's in? Since completing Lake Inferior, there has been a deep calm come over the land, as though maybe not the final piece of the puzzle has been snapped into place, but the piece that  finally reveals the nature of the puzzle and ties it all together has in some subtle but definitive way described itself. So it feels like the Golden Age of the Rancho has begun. A time which Mollison reckons should last for about twelve hundred seventy one years (on average, at least for the olive trees). A time when the designer becomes the recliner and the trees do as they please. A time when doing nothing reveals everything. A time when being integrated with the environment brings about the deepest sense of gratitude for life beyond the fray. All of this follows on the heels of what has been a trying time through the winter and spring months. A rain drenched, moth infested time. A time of diminishing hope on a global scale. A time to gird ones loins and turn the ship into the gale and feel the fury of the winds relentless howl until nothing but full bellied laughter prevails. Because there is no winning or losing in this game. There is only how we ride, whether a cantor through the glen or a gallop till the end, we all bed down in the same stable. The mango trees are flowering yet again (fifth time) and appear to be setting a good bit of fruit, while the January flowering has produced a sparse harvest that bears checking on a daily basis. With mangoes, one doesn't want to see any go to ground and these babies are plumping up and showing signs of color. With the hillsides showing their usual parched summer colors, the chances are that the demon moths will be in short supply. So far I've only seen a few fruits getting stung. With any luck, the mangoes, atemoyas, avocados, longan, jakfruit, jaboticaba, lychee, papaya, citrus, fig, white sapote, banana and other lesser crops will go unscathed, leading to an autumn harvest that will catapult us right into the fortune 500 club. I'm not sure if i should spend the money i haven't earned yet on that candy apple green, metal flake maserati that haunts my dreams. I mean I know I should be prudent and think beyond my own miserable obsessions but I feel my mid life crisis passing me by without treating myself to so much as a motorcycle. OMG  (I learned that on Facebook). LOL The beloved hanai son has moved from his ancestral  home to le domain de la wwoof. Replacing the lovely L.L. Farina (never in a million years), Tyler has taken up residence in the lower forty. He and roomy Willie Ray have made a bond that  would make crazy glue pucker with envy. And so it goes. And me, I am securely ensconsed as the soul resident of my wittle home, for the first time in seven years, I might add. Ask me how wildly novel that feels..... Week in brief: learning to be lazier, loving the fish thing, that small portion of the spectrum of "energy" occupied by things material is entirely the realm of the feminine and men, being the proverbial fish out of water are really just trying to figure out how much pressure to apply to the clitoris to make y'all happy. The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp