November 12, 2017
Here it is, the end of the farm year with very little to show for it. This was absolutely the WORST I have had, barely producing enough to feed myself, let alone to sell. I only know of one Portage County farmers market open this year, which tells me people had little to sell. Globally, this was a year of record crop loss. California, the breadbasket of the country and much of the world is a mess, and will most likely not recover until humanity has been wiped out and the planet can begin to heal itself, if there is anything left to heal. Most of Europe was under water or on fire the whole summer. No matter where you look the planet is spiralling downward into total decimation. How can anyone grow food with daily temperatures in the 110-120 degree range? How can one grow food when everything is underwater? And nothing will grow once UVC rays begin hitting the earth, which they actually are now. Those are one step away from X-rays! Even Monsanto, with all their deadly concoctions cannot survive what is currently happening. And speaking of Monsanto, farmers are once again fighting them and other farmers who use their toxic herbicides, which won't kill Monsanto's GMO plants, but kill everything else. I cannot tell you how many times this summer I awoke to the smell of glyphosate. No wonder everything turned brown and died. Even my peppers and eggplants in the greenhouse, which always produce fruits, produced almost nothing this year. NOT ONE EGGPLANT out of thirty or so plants
WHAT is wrong with people?? I am tired of beating my head against a brick wall. All everyone thinks about is their money god, assuming that food comes from a grocery store and the shelves will always be stocked. THEY WILL NOT. Outside of the relatively few of us who have spent their lifetime trying to live in harmony with the land, people have TOTALLY lost their connection with the earth. The ones who absolutely make me sick are the ones who write about getting out into nature, like walking in the park or going on vacation. WHAT ASSHOLES. If they had to use their wits to live off the land in an emergency, they'd all be dead.
When the hurricanes hit this year, it seemed as if people were FINALLY getting it, that the environmental disaster that worsens by the minute is not only human-caused, but deliberatelyhuman-caused by geoengineering. There are many factors of course, and the nuclear one is growing stronger. I'm not talking about war, I mean nuclear power plant disasters. Fukushima is killing the Pacific Ocean, and there is evidence of other disasters that we haven't heard much about. (See Energy News.) But the point is, WE have the power to fight this, and all I see is lethargy, denial, and resistance. I know one person who always says, when it all happens, she hopes she's the first to go. What a coward!! People make me sick. I am in the process of reading the Robinson Crusoe books (of which there are three), and that island is looking pretty good right now, except my island is somewhere way out in space—a nice quiet little planet with lots of plants and animals and only a handful of people who live peacefully with the environment and mind their own fucking business. I am totally sick of being here. WHAT A BUNCH OF LOSERS, this human race.
But until I can escape, and believe me I work at it every day, I will still strive to make comfortable the fifteen acres of nature that is mine, and do my best to bring love and beauty into a world of ugliness and hatred. Here are my photos from the past couple months.
Possumbly a 'Possum. I have had a "porch 'possum" living with me since spring. He began by visiting me at night, driving the dogs wild as he played in the trees outside my house, and got into my recycling bags and rummaged through the cans. He was a little skinny guy then, with a really long nose. So I made sure I took the bags to the recylcing place, but that didn't stop him. He then proceeded to play with the cat poop in the buckets I have in the corner of the porch where I scoop the contents of the litter pans. I also keep an old industrial bucket on my porch as an outdoor wastebasket, where I throw away stuff I don't want in my house, until I have a chance to burn it. He discovered that the wadded up paper towels often contained cat puke, which he could enjoy by chewing up, then spitting out in little wads. So, in the mornings, I would be greeted by a porch full of little spit balls. Then he discovered my compost bucket, which I keep on the big concrete steps off the porch. He dug out all my squash rinds and set them neatly in two rows on my porch, and every night, ate a few. It took a couple weeks but he ate them all.
The picture below happened last week. My usual procedure is to fall asleep reading on the couch in the evening, then when the 'possum arrives, the dogs wake me up, we go for our last tinkle, then I go to bed, usually around 1 a.m.. It is a sort of natural alarm clock. Well, it happened I just changed the papers under Roonie's little area, where he has his own private litter pan and his own private food bowls. I wadded it all up and put it in an ALDI box, and if you shop there you know how their boxes only have three sides. So, I had it all stacked neatly on top of the wastebasket to burn in the morning. Of course my porch-'possum had to get into the box, which fell over with him in it, and caused all the ruckus. So, I took Rex out and we looked in the box and I said, "Ooh, he's still there, and Rex agreed." So we came back, and he was still there. I got my flashlight and camera and came back out, and he was still there, so I shot the picture, then went into the house to get Molly and he was still there. Apparently he knows not to be afraid of me. I would never hurt him. Molly and I went for our walk and he was still there. By morning he was gone. This situation is about two steps from my front door, by the way, so we practically tripped over him to go out.