windthread

 

 

the kids,  Destiny and Julian,  put two small Strawberry plants in the Wall Garden.  Just from the grocery store.   There have continuous strawberries all along.  A few and then a few.  Not Lots.  But they continue now,  more blossoms,  more strawberries.  They are not Over.  ????  But what is Great,  is that they have sent out so many runners.  There are now MANY individual plants.  I imagine in the next Warm Season we will have strawberry shortcake.

Wall Garden.

I made potatoe soup and put in some of the parsley that is in profusion.  Some little bits of the Basil seeds,  some broccoli and cauliflower leaves.   Soup.

On the way up from the bottom of the Hill,  from campsite A where the Wall Garden is,  i stop  where the roll of fencing is at the side of the road there.  Sit.  Catch my breath.  Tonight i heard the voice of a bird and let my eyes scan,  gaze.   Yes.  it was a Pileated Woodpecker.  Big.

from this spot,  i go up,  into B.  Up and then sit there,  moments,  to  catch my breath again.  Check out the walnut vats.  Just look.    And then,  on.   all the way to the place i live.    Live.  Meaning feed self,  sleep.  Have stuff.  The place i live.  

we talk here,  about "home",  about being home,  leaving home,  becoming home.   And i look and think about how this is where i Live.   Where i make food.  Where i sleep.  Where i have brought the Goats to,  Tazmeena and Tay.  it's where we

Are.

I have been watching Ishi,  the Last of His Kind     Snag Films……important,  Snag Films,  there are others,  but this one.  I don't know how this film has to do exactly with what i'm thinking about without really knowing what i'm thinking,  but it does.  I've watched it  5 times in the last couple days.  I'm not sure what i'm seeing.  I keep watching.  I'll watch it again before i go to sleep tonight.  Probably when i get up again in the morning.    I remember when i first knew about Ishi,  i was i think 19 and my friend Jane and i read the book about him.  I think about that…about what it meant to me then,  at 19,  what it means to me now,  and living where he lived.  He might even have been exactly here.  ????  when he made his way into Oroville.  Maybe his footpalms touched this Earth.  Could be.   Home.  what it meant to him.  Home.  what i am learning.   What does that mean? and How does that matter?

 

 

 

Julian is tentative about a lot of things.  Most things.  But this he KNEW.  They,  he,  his mother, Alyssia,  were down feeding Goats.  Giving Water for this evening.  I am waiting inside with Emrie,  getting her ready to go for the day and i hear yelling.

a soft yelling,  not sharp, but soft,  but yelling….Old Nana!  from Julian    Gramma from Alyssia  

I gather Emrie up and go out the door just as Julian arrives.

She was on the Doe Goat's mineral bucket.  He saw her as he was watering.  Called his mother who said,  don't be afraid.  Call Old Nana.

just the other day,  or ….maybe yesterday?, i said to Alyssia…But Where are the Praying Mantis?   Are there no Praying Mantis here?

 

 

 

i put my hand to Julian's stick and she came quickly.  I spoke to her ,  to just wait, to wait and i would take her back to where she had been,  take her back,  just wait.  She did.  Can you see her on my wrist?

Everything is ok now.  Totally.  Completely.  Everything is just as it needs to be,  whatever that is.  and is OK.  Here we Go.

the Beauty of deep research

 

am not going to let self post until i have caught up on my "correspondence" here.   I do a couple,  then typepad or the internet cuts me off.   I am behind.  So, till then….

on the way home from the Farmer's Market yesterday….only one more Saturday this year….i stopped at the Thrift Shop that is in the same little link of businesses as my Lakeside Market.  Just around the corner and down a short way to this Hill.   I've gone in a few other times since i've been here.   Got one really great twin fitted all cotton sheet.  I forget what else.  She's probably my age.  The place is crammed with stuff.  Some of it is of real value but a lot is like someone's garage sale.  There's an end room for clothing,  household cloth stuff and the lighting is non existent so i have no idea really what is in there.  I go along running my hand to feel for cotton.    Shopping blind.  99% is synthetic.  I really lucked out with that sheet.  I should take a pic.  It's pretty.

she remembered me and said she'd wondered where i'd been.  I said i hadn't needed anything,  but today was wanting a Pot.  Didn't  matter if it was dinged up,  dented,  but big.  Preferably aluminun.  She thought …no,  she didn't think so,  but then said maybe and we dug out stuff  from in front of a large table piled with other stuff and there,  under the table was a box.  And this 4.3 L  aluminum pot.  With a lid, even.  Not it's orignal lid,  but one that fits.  so…YAY  There was Happiness.

some of the walnuts are in it.  I'll set them to simmer in the morning when there is a chill.   Not now…still warm from the day.  And there's WIND…real WIND,  not a breeze,  but WIND.  I have feelings.

in the Other Life,  i would set the pot on the wood stove.

 

 

 

 

don't know if this pic comes through to make any sense,  but….the metal yard stick is there to give some sense of size.  This is the bottom of a pine that fell.  Part of it is still in the earth…maybe a third of it's base.  A huge tree.  Old.   It fell when my son was here.  He,  his woman, their girl  child and i were sitting at the faux picnic table in the common area between C and B.  Talking,  when there was an ODD sound and our ears pricked like animals do,  we all turned in the direction,  a crunching shushing sound that seemed to last forever and then what i can best describe as a very soft gentle  Thud.   I can't even remember the exact sounds.  Couldn't at the time,  either.  I'd never heard such sounds before.  No context for them.  A TREE fell.  A tree maybe 70 80 feet tall.   Fell.   Simply let go.  At the juncture of it's trunk and the Earth.  Pulling loose.  The most astounding thing was how soft the sound was of it meeting the Earth…so…well….soft.  Soft.

I went to visit it today.  Spent a lot of time walking the forests,  seeing what work the Goats have done,  walking their paths.  It's  very different  forest than when i arrived.  Then it was THICK.  easy to lose one's bearings.   And amazingly,  that was from the vines of the poison oak  that climbed high into tree branches,  covered the paths,  was Everywhere.    It's gone now.  They've eaten it.  What will come up with the Rains remains to be seen.  But for now…gone.  Researching through UC Davis, there is no trace of it in goat milk.   As it goes,  there is a lot of ruckus,  buck/doe going on.  It will be this way through November.  We will breed some.  A few.  Kids in the spring.  Milking in the Spring.  

We Go,  here.   Following stuff.  Tagging along.

 

this is the pic that was supposed to be there yesterday,  the second one,  but that somehow disappeared.  That white pvc in foreground is how the water flows up the Hill from the bottom connection to the "city" water,  which is out at the road,  Old Olive Hwy.   The water pressure is surprisingly amazing.  Now and then blows out hoses.  

so.  There is the enamel pot.  with the overturned lid and shell to weight it down.  The big copper tub.  Too big.  But what is here.  As of yesterday,  both hold fermenting walnuts.  I've covered the copper tub with a garbage bag as a lid to prevent evaporation.  Don't know how that will work.  There's another pot,  an aluminum one that i will cook walnuts in,  on the stove.  Hasten the process.  Maybe tomorrow.   The cast iron pot has debris of the Oak Galls.  can be reconstituted.    These are sitting on the chair and small table from N. Mex.  at the hammock.  B.    I am watching the movement of Sun.  There is one other place i might move all this to,  but only if it's really significantly better.  I like it here.  Makes me feel good.  And it's where the Cloth line is.   A dye station.

 

 

 

 

the counter thing.  Just inside the door,  to the left,  just across from the fold down couch that i've decided is my bed.   Clock.  Tazmeena's bowl.  the yellow thing to the left is the handle of the Fat Max Spotlight thing that is always at the ready in case of wierd stuff in the night.  Not aesthetic,  but necessary.   I found this piece of cotton,  not quite big enough,  but close,  to use as a design wall.  Can pin things to it.  That wall there is 36×30.  It's going to have to "do".  When i get back to the Storage Unit,  i'll see if there's something better to use,  that will cover the entire little wall.   

the post yesterday….referring to the Washington Post Opinion column was confusing.  It was meant to be two things,  but i just ran out of steam.  The first was exactly that….the not being ok referring to what we are standing with in the Supreme Court and then,  all the rest.  All the rest being so much that is under the radar of the present commotion of daily news garbage.  The fact that one of the Dakotas has made it a requirement that voters need a street address.  P.O. Box will not do.  Which means that almost all native persons will not be able to register,  not be able to vote.  Almost NO reservations have streets,  let alone mail delivery.  Most have to travel miles to a local Post Office for mail.  This was true of the Alamo Res in N. Mex.  It was 30 miles to the post office in Magdalena for a lot of folks.   And all the things about environmental genocide.   

these things are not ok.  There is no pretending that somehow stuff will come out right.

so i wasn't referring to things here.  There's no pretending going on here.  and to clarify some,  what it is,  is Permits.  The Permitting for this and that,  building permits.  Land use permits.    They seem to be one thing,  but when you go forward with that,  they morph into something else.  There's permits to move Alyssia's home here.  Some thousands of dollars.  There's permits that were supposed to be ok about the use of gray water,  but turn out to be NOT.  So whether or not we will be permitted  to use composting toilets…which will be closely monitored by the county,  to employ a gray water system,  also closely monitored,  we still need to dig and create a traditional septic system.  Some more thousands of dollars.  Every thing is a few thousand dollars.  So it's a complex weaving through this bureaucratic maze,  which is all based  on Good and CAREfull land use,  so no arguement there,   but………………..      It's how to submit which request for which permit in some kind of order so that we can do what we want to do.  So that Butte County will feel ok and leave us alone.  There's just so much $.  

I will be fine,  really,  here.  I whine about space.  But as far as NEED,  i will be just very much ok.   That book that Jamie told me about…Tending the Wild,   M.Kat Anderson.  It will arrive at the Oroville Post Office tomorrow.  Anderson teaches at U CA Davis.  on going.  People have lived here for many many years.  I will learn things for Emrie.  She may very well need to know them.  Long after permits have gone up in flames.

 

there was a CONVERSATION yesterday.  Slow and well,  just slow.  And without any details,  yes.  I Will be in this space for the Water Months.  No.  the hut will NOt  be going forward.   for now.  for a "while".   OK.  

and oddly enough,  that conversation was energizing.  I went over to B,  where the hut will someday become and did some housekeeping.  I took down the temporary fencing that was supposed to keep the Goats out and didnt,  i rolled it and put it away.  I tidied up the little Failure to Thrive garden,  rearranging things.   Sat and thought.  A lot.  About where things might be,  someday.   Thought about hauling cut branches to make  some kind of raised bed that will include this amendment soil from what Jenny calls the Worm Farm that is an organic soil place just around the corner.  I went there with Alyssia in the spring and it's amazing,  a HUge yard of all manner of soil amendment,  and in the "store" part,  all manner again of stuff to help things grow and i wandered there,  looking and taking it in,  and talking to the nice woman in her 60's who is the proprietor,  and she asked what i wanted and i said, well,  for a first year garden here and she suggested the above and there was something Missing from the exchange,  but i couldn't put my finger on it and as we were driving away,  I said to Alyssia…why?….why would people need all that?  And she laughed and said…Weed Growers.  It's for Weed….and i felt so naive,  but still i have these bags:   aged forest procducts sphangum peat moss,  Pacific North West Seagoing fish emulsion, Crab meal,  shrimp meal,  earthworm castings,  sandy loam perlite fissilized batguano, granite dust, Norwiegen kelp meal and oystershell

 

 

 

 z

over there,  by the hammock,  i brought the walnuts that LaceLady sent,  from Washington State,  i brought the enamel pot and then,  the copper pot that's not yet pictured,  put the walnuts,  water.  Not sure yet about place….what receives the most SUN as the days go on…watching.

Live Oak.   

"Oaks amend the soil overtime, with their own leaves and build natural mycorrhizal fungus they need to survive.  Gradually they become islands of natural fertility that improves the health of nearby plants."

Calscalpe…California Native Plant Society

deciduous,   or ever green in warmer climates.  I watch.  some leaves fall,  some will remain.  I keep calling this upcoming season Winter.  Because of where i'm "from".  Winter doesn't really apply here.   What did the native,  the first peoples, call the months that are coming?  Rain Months?  

so.  how to go from here.  

it feels like there are decisions to make.   ?,  decisions?,   or,  maybe agreements.  Agreements with Self.  Maybe this.

some kind of agreement with Self about how to take In and Experience all that is in the near future….in what Was my country.  Even if i think to be here now,  it's there….hovering.

for now,  i brought the meditation chair swing up from the Doe Goat Forest.  Soon,  the Rains will come with regularity.  Am thinking i won't be so inclined to go down and into that part of the Hill  to Sit.    So,  while i track the movement of Sun,  of light and heat,  i have hung it just outside on the Morning Tree.  This guarantees that for sure,  small chunks of time will Happen.  15,  20 minutes and with luck more….to sit.  Motionless.  Suspended.  Breathing.  Free of the illusions.  

 

this morning,  as most mornings,  the Goats are off into the forest almost before dawn.   Halfway through my second tea,  they have circled around and for whatever reason of their own come at a run down over the far hill,  spilling over to their Commons with the Bucks,  their old Forest.  They come really fast,  running,  sometimes leaping…it's wonder FULL to see and if you count to 12,  maybe 13,  there comes a red chicken,  running,  to catch up with her herd.  The Sun breaks through over the rise, illuminating the Redness of her feathers,  her chicken ness hurrying,  so hard,  behind her Goats.

you might remember, or not,  that this Hill was bought with the money that the Old Cowboy left behind.    That he left me as kind of a payment for helping him stay in his home to die.  I listened to the podcast and thought about apologies,  about reparations.  I thought about how i guess this Hill is mine,  to my daughter.

she arrived mid morning and we did some things…re~tarped  the Doe Goat shelter….that kind of thing…and talked.   About her son,  my grandson,  Alyssia's brother,  who i don't write much about here….Fate's father,  and i thought about not writing much about him here.  About how he is Magnificant now,   after none of us knew,  including him,  how it might go.  

and then we walked the whole of the Hill.   Up to where the huge Pine had  loosened its Self from the Earth and Fallen and the Goats had gone ahead.   She and i and Tay and Puppy came along,  and there….far from campsite C,  amidst the browsing Goats,  in the brush…that red chicken.   We stood and watched her,  quiet and softly,  thinking our own thoughts and saying some that were shared,  but we looked upon what has happened here,  quite of its own accord,  really.  We follow cues.  But quite of its own accord and i think,  maybe this is my great real apology.  And i think it is received.

 .

 

 

watching the flowers wither today.   They  are here,  in my face,  on the table.   Letting go of their original selves.  And i see the Beauty of this….around the glass,   fallen petals….still in the glass,  petals that are becoming dry and thin  and i think about my friend Dora.   Back in the day,  when we took the drawing classes from Kay,  Kay Gould Caskey,   in Ann Arbor,  Michigan,  once the classes were in Dora's apartment.  There would always be bouquets.  In all their forms…new,  intermediate and then fading  fading fading into paper thin.  Dora and i loved the paper thin.  These we would spend hours drawing…pencil.

i've written about Dora before.  I think way back when there was the blogspot blog,  which is gone now.  Dora was a small woman.   Her hair was White with always some kind of elegant comb to hold it up and in place.  She often wore her Tai Chi things…that she brought back from trips to Japan.  So…two memories of Dora are emblematic.   One,  our love of drawing flowers as they dried and faded into such delicate and paper thin,  less than paper thin….. and then one night when i was waiting with her,  i forget for what,  but we were waiting in a large room.  It was at a church i think?,  but large.  Empty room.  With a great wall of windows.  Dark outside.  Lit softly.  And to pass the time of waiting,  Dora did her Forms.  Her Tai Chi forms.  Small woman,  white hair,  pined with a silver comb,  indigo design jacket and pants,  her forms.  Her forearm had numbers tatooed…from the camp in Germany.   Watching her,  forgetting to breathe,  forgetting to swallow so that a slender thread of saliva hung down my chin and on to my chest.