for a while now, people might want to just come by once in a while. There might very well be more posts like todays….not much to see. A lot going on, but of a very certain plain nature. and for sure, not much to see. But i remind self, it's a Journal and really, tho it's plain, it is extremely satisfying for me.
So i pitch forked and shoveled already partially composting manure and scrap feed from the floor of the Albatros where the Doe Goats overnight. It's particularly great right now because of the feed i dumped inside there during that week or so of snow. Their hooves blending it in with the manure and urine.
Paying good attention to the shoulder, i only shoveled and hauled 4 wheelbarrows full.
This is the raised bed strip just on the outside of the House Yard fence. From the gate there to just past the Wild Lilac. Atop if you can see them are the tomato cages lying on their sides. This is just a little under half of this bed. already there were two wheelbarrows full from a while ago.
This is the rest of the way. I figure maybe 7 more wheelbarrows full. This week. And then just the constant adding of scrap feed for mulch. I'm On it. This feels incredibly GOOD. And according to permaculture principles, will Not dig it in, but allow what is already in good order in the present earth to "bring down" the new in it's way.
the Sleeping Honeysuckle. Not an award winning pic….but….how it is.
and i haven't stopped thinking about chickens, chooks. This is the House Yard side of the Guinea Hen Palace that was mostly incorporated into the Doe's Middle Pen. The Whole Thing would be Great for Chooks, but alas, 2/3rds of it belongs to the Goats. But i looked long today at that part on the right that is not inside their space.
I COULD close this square off from the rest on the inside and Could make an entry door here on the outside. It would be the place for the nest boxes and for overnighting. I still want them to run loose. That's Cinderella looking at me.
they have used this middle part in the past to Kid in…being able to feel like they could have some personal space in there from the rest of the does…and then in the summer, two or three will lie on that shelf that's there. Goats like shelves. Someday i should build them shelves in the Albatros. Would be Happiness for them. There are still all the reasons Why NOT for chooks. But i seem to still keep entertaining the thought. I really love eggs being the strongest. Am thinking a Lot about what i eat and why i eat it. While i am drinking the TEA, i seem to be thinking even more about how i feed this body.
So that was today. and we are well over the half way mark of January. stuff is Good. really Good.
Addendum. I didn't think this "applied" to anything. and i still don't know what it Applies to, but i will put it here for whatever reason today. From the book…Ensouling Language.
James Hillman's book The Soul's Code
There is more in a human life than our theories of it allow. Sooner or later something seems to call us unto a particular path. You may remember this "something" as a signal moment in childhood when an urge out of nowhere, a fascination, a peculiar turn of events struck like an annunciation. This is what I must do, this is what I've got to have. This is who I am.
This book is about that call.
If not this vivid or sure, the call may have been more like gentle pushings in the stream in which you drifted unknowingly to a particular spot on the bank. Looking back, you may have a sense that fate had a hand in it.
This book is about that sense of fate.
These kinds of annunciations and recollections determine biography as strongly as memories of abusive horror, but these more enigmatic moments tend to be shelved. Our theories favor traumas setting us the task of working them through. Despite early injury and all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, we bear from the start the image of a definite individual character with some enduring traits.
This book is about that power of character.
Because the "traumatic" view of early years so controls psychological theory of personality and its development, the focus of our logical theory of personality and its development, the focus of our rememberings and the language of our personal storytelling have already been infiltrated by the toxins of their theories. Our lives already may be determined less by our childhood than by the way we have learned to imagine our childhoods. We are, this book shall maintain, less damaged by the traumas of childhood than by the traumatic way we remember childhood as a time of unnecessary and externally caused calamities that wrongly shaped us.
So this book wants to repair some of that damage by showing what else was there, is there, in your nature. It wants to resurrect the unaccountable twists that turned your boat around in the eddies and shallows of meaninglessness, bringing you back to feelings of destiny. For that is what is lost in so many lives, and what must be recovered: a sense of personal calling, that there is a reason i am alive.
windthread 
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