Wednesday, August 3, 2022

The everything giver

Before we get to that, a morning garden update.

What kind of bees are black and sip nectar from sweet corn flowers? I love the falling pollen grains. I think it's a black longhorn(ed) bee, but I don't know for sure.

Tomatoes and Tommy.

I got some video, too, but it's mostly babbling.


And once again, before the everything giver, a chore report. I know.

Preparing the home place corrals for working cattle this weekend was a good morning chore. It involved fence work and a lot of mowing. While it's cooler here today, only about 87, there's very little breeze and the sky is crystal clear so the sun was really hammering down. Lots of effort, lots of sweat. Like James T. Kirk and Jason Nesmith I gladly took the opportunity to get my shirt off. I'm probably too lazy to do the work of describing what the experience of hard work in the summer sun feels like for my body, mind, and soul. It's simply amazing. It's a very satisfying thing to have learned how to do physical labor and to be able to do it unflinchingly and with boundless enjoyment. Even when it sucks, which it did not do today. And let's not forget the bonus vitamin D!


Speaking of the sun, I get morning sunshine on the north side of my house for the nine or ten weeks surrounding the summer solstice. It's about gone for the year.


Perhaps unsurprisingly this post from February, 2015 was one of the things that came to mind as I was working in the sunshine.


Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.



  1. Interesting how the corrals and chutes are set up and what it takes to prep them. Hard work, but honest and necessary work before them critters show up in my supermarket meat case.
    Are these your cows, or someone else leasing your pastures? Shouldn't they be doing the corral preps?
    The recycled science lesson was above my threshold of academic pain. Good stuff, but does not compute for a lowly history major.
    John Blackshoe

    1. If I worked hard enough at being a good writer I'd be able to get across the awe and wonder I feel when I contemplate the vastness and majesty of nature's universe. All them help suitcase it for me by providing scale and context to feed the fires of delight. But if I can't get the reader into the same headspace, it's just a bunch of stupid, boring numbers. Kind of like my July weather report.
      On the one hand, yes, the owners should be doing the work. On the other hand, the more prep and upkeep I do the less damage and deterioration. Also the labor is a joy and free vitamin D!
      Thanks for stopping by and commenting John.

    2. I followed the weather report and learned from it, but astronomy stuff just ain't my thing. Your transmitter is on frequency, but my receiver capability is messed up.

    3. Now that's interesting, because when I re-read the weather thing I thought it was awful. Regarding astronomy, did you have to learn and practice celestial navigation bitd? There's a lovely scene in Robb White's "Silent Ship, Silent Sea" where the destroyer Captain teaches a seaman how to shoot stars and plot position. That's always washing around in the back of my mind when I look at the heavens or delve into astronomy.

    4. I did only the bare minimum of celestial- monkey see, monkey do, but zero understanding.
      Hats off to those who can and do (by choice or necessity) celestial nav stuff, or indeed anything astronomical.

      There is a great historical novel "The Captain's Wife" by Douglas Kelley on the experiences of Mary Patten. Married just shy of her 16th birthday to a merchant marine officer soon to be captain, she accompanied him to sea, and from boredom learned celestial nav on an early voyage. In 1856, he was captain of the clipper ship Neptune's Car, bound from NY to San Francisco. before reaching Cape Horn, the captain was incapacitated by seizures and brain hemorrage type illness. The first mate was a mutinous SOB, and Mary had him thrown in confinement, and the second mate, an adequate sailor but no navigator, alternated watches with Mary Patten as they rounded Cape Horn, in the usual horrendous weather, and made for San Fran.

      Thus, at age 19, and eight months pregnant, she took the ship into SF harbor and delivered their cargo. Her husband died a few months later, and she died at age 24 of tuberculosis, and was buried in Everett, Mass.

      So, yeah, some people can do, and understand celestial, and that woman should be idolized and an exemplar for diversity. A better man than I, to be sure!
      Her wiki entry is mind boggling, and the book is a darn good read as well.
      John Blackshoe

    5. Mind boggling indeed, thanks for sharing that. Holy shit, that's a lotta livin' in eight short years. Some of the badly confused in today's world would benefit from learning about Mary Ann Brown Patten.