70% of our stuff, perhaps. We’re moving the rest and ourselves on Saturday. Then comes the tedious job of unpacking…
But Amie loved “driving” the truck! Not as much as her Mama did, though.
If you’ve followed the Urban Homesteaders, it won’t show you much that is new, except for that toilet/sin (approx. 2/3 into the video)!
The lid of the toilet water tank has been converted into a small sink. You wash your hands with new water and it drains into the water tank. It’s perfect!
Theirs seems to be a Gaiam system (picture above), but for the do-it-yourselfers I found a quick hack here. A more elaborate system that stores the drainwater under the usual sink and diverts it to the toilet can be found here and here.
No need to flush perfectly good drinking water down the toilet!
The 4 robins have pretty much outgrown their nest, but I haven’t seen them fly out yet.
There are two little woodpeckers like these. Neither has a red spot on the head, so I think they’re both adult females. They’re so small they are probably Downy (not Hairy) Woodpeckers. But the Hairy Woodpecker is probably around as well: I’ve heard its very rapid, almost smooth rapping sound, like a phone buzzing almost. Very unlike the slow and much louder tok-tok-tok of the big pileated woodpecker.
This now is a little bully. Can anyone tell me what kind of bird it is? A juvenile Common Grackle? It has that large tail… He chases away the cardinals and even fought the two Downy Woodpeckers to eat at his heart’s content.
And lastly this little guy I misidentified earlier. Our neighbor pointed him/her out as a Orchard Oriole, not (as I thought) Yellow-throated Vireo or possibly a Yellow Warbler.
We also spotted a Carolina Wren with a huge green caterpillar in it beak.
I started a bird list in the sidebar. Watch it grow!
… and as we were eating them, still warm, I said:
- You and me made these!
Upon which Amie said:
- You and I made these!
I purchased a cheap set of watercolors at the pharmacy a couple of days back and introduced them to Amie. The medium is of course very different to what she’s used to: those thick, goopy acrylics as well as crayons and color pencils, all of which stays more or less where you put it down.
Not so watercolors, and Amie loves it. She likes its unexpected ways, and its “colorly”-ness. She also enjoys the choice of all those colors, right there, for her. She doesn’t need Mama to squeeze paint from the five bottles of acrylic, to mix them up (with mixed results). She just needs jar of water and “presto, we’re all set” (don’t know where she picked that up). And there’s water involved! She religiously washes her brush before she stabs at a new color. She’s been painting people so the pink is already pretty much used up.
The people she draws now have bodies most of the time, and clothes. She’s serious about the skirts, pants and shoes. Often time she paints pants, and then legs, too. O yes, and all must have a bow tie! Everyone she draws – men, women, babies – must have a bow tie.
Of this person she said “his shoes are tied together!” The light pink circle on top is what is visible of the head. The darker pink oval underneath is his bow tie.
Every year, once a year, I need to return to that long poem by Mary Oliver, The Leaf and the Cloud (published in 2000). It is a poem like life, with everything in it, only magnified and condensed. I can’t say much about it, only that it reverberates deeply with me, and comforts me, and puts me in touch with myself, makes me more honest. And then it also creates that distance, the kind of poetic distance that allows me to take a good look, at everything. It’s a good poem that way. An excerpt:
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance .
In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.
Live with the beetle, and the wind.
This is the dark bread of the poem.
This is the dark and nourishing bread of the poem.
Look! This is how it starts:
Welcome to the silly, comforting poem.
An idea is brewing, for a new novel. I’ve sent my first thirteen chapters off to ten readers, and though I still need to write down the last chapter – yes, I deprived them of the ending! – and then edit, and sell it to an agent and a publisher, and all that… I feel I have let it go. And now it’s time for a new story.
Our work-weekend at the new house was cut short by the inclement weather. The humidity reached 91%, which made painting impossible. We decided not to spent another night there and to come “home” (“to our old home,” is how Amie appropriately puts it) to start packing.
While we were there we took stock of our woodpile. Our neighbor had chopped most of the wood and thrown the logs into the yard. It was such a pleasure stacking it and seeing the pile grow… such a pleasure in fact that we couldn’t stop and piled it too high. Now it feels a bit wobbly, so we’ll move some of the top layers to a second pile.
The robin’s eggs hatched. The four chicks were probably a day or two old: eyes still closed, and not a chirp, just wide-open mouths on long necks. The robins made a poor real estate choice when they built their nest under our car port roof, because each time we drive up or approach the car, the Mama Robin flees (and sits in the tree, calling out in alarm). So we parked the car further off to give them some peace. Both parents did nothing but hunt for food and feed the babies. Amie would have been at the window and watched them all day long, if it hadn’t been for the fact that we had to hold her up for her to see them.
Right next door to the Robin’s nest, wasps were busy building a nest. It’s very small (about 3 inches in diameter), as yet. We’ll have to take care of it soon: it’s too close to slamming car doors and loud toddler sounds. Any recommendations?
To many of you it might seem like not much, but to DH and me it looks like the foundation of paradise!
Some trees (in the background: 1 large white oak, 1 smaller birch and 1 smaller maple) had to be felled to make way for the new septic system. Their remains have been lying around for a while now. A couple of times DH and I stood in front of the ax, maul and chainsaw displays at the local Home Depot… speechless. Neither of us have any experience with firewood. I’ve thrown a log into an open fireplace maybe once in my life. So we were intimidated.
Luckily our neighbor turns out to be a firewood seller and a really nice guy. He came to our rescue with his chainsaw and also showed DH how to use the splitting maul.
Amie was quite impressed. She loved to help, carrying the logs to the pile, “like a big girl!” (sorry, I didn’t catch it on camera). She knows the difference now between “tree” and “wood” (*).
Installing a good wood stove into or near our fireplace is one of the priorities. The downed trees will make for at least two cords of firewood, which might be cured sufficiently by the end of October. There are some stacks of old firewood rotting around the property, and we might be able to save some of that too. I’m thinking we’ll need three cords…
Oh, life is good and nature provides!
(*) one of those fundamental Aristotelian distinction, so easily and naturally applicable to the world, as Aristotle always is!
I discovered Chile’s Quit Now Challenge (see the logo to the sidebar: it’s the clearest, most uncluttered, Peak Oil logo I’ve come across). I devoted some deep thinking about what I would give up…
Look, it’s not that difficult! Here goes:
I will give up buying toys and books for Amie, and books for myself.
From today (5 July) until 5 July, and after that we’ll see.
The comments and Chile’s later post on the matter discuss whether this means depriving oneself (negative spin) or gaining space and time (positive). In our case, of books and toy we have enough, too much already. Getting more will actually mean having less: less space and less time to discover and rediscover what we already have.
Also, we’re looking at our move, coming up soon (it’s planned in two weeks). I haven’t been able to bring myself to pack yet. It’s the books!
My 1000+ count philosophy library is already in boxes in storage. But since “giving up” philosophy, I’ve gained many more books, mainly children’s books, ecological treatises and all manner of homesteading books. I could never ever think of books as “clutter,” but truly, when you have to move them, they are, factually, weight.
So there. Can I do it? Can I be a Quitter?