Personally I’m sick to death of the saga of my knee, three major surgeries and a couple minors later, but anyways, an update.
Recovery from this, most major invasion, in which surgeon addressed about 5 different malfunctioning aspects of my damaged joint, is very, very slow.
Upsides: previously unimagined hours spent online, sleep requirements upwards of 12 hours/day, getting waited on and told to stay still. Downsides: dizziness rising from prolonged inactivity, loss of muscle tone, and limited activity, to say the least.
I feel like I’m melting away, getting so small, but fitting my tiniest clothes is a small consolation for no longer being able to protect myself from a hummingbird.
I can do almost no strengthening yet bc of trauma and swelling, and this last week it’s developed a very alarming new locking-randomly-with-pain-when-attempt-straightening feature. Not a meniscus thing, but a strange new tissue/muscle thing (I can tell these things by now). So the hot, heavy foam brace is back on and I stump around like Quasimoto and can be quite effective. For about four hours.
Unfortunately, this recovery coincides with harvest, summertime, and a moving deadline. The vacancy date looms, but it looks like we’ll manage.
Shouldn’t have worried about Kevin coping with the move. What with all the shuttling of boxes and stuff, the removal of furniture including her favorite chair, and the general furor, I thought she might feel insecure and fear being abandoned.
In fact, she’s actually become more content. I suppose these days more closely resemble the construction zone atmosphere prevalent in the last 6 years (which she was quite at home with), than the rigid and sterile home-on-display-for-sale stasis of the past 6 months (which caused much confused querulous meowing: “What, no power tools? Too quiet around here.”).
And heaven-above, during moving time, are there BOXES! Boxes everywhere, boxes galore, boxes of all sizes to try out, new ones added daily! Box pictured, offering ample stretching capacity, great views of food and water dishes, and overlooking possible fridge door openings, has clearly been “favorited”, so no chance of actually using it for packing.
Every year, there’s that time in August when everyone you know asks if you can use any more zucchini, and then lays one on you the size of two footballs. We did not plant any zukes this year, leaving command of the garden to various squash, which preserve better.
I forgot to take a picture until after using 2/3 of the largest one (seen cut), and a preceding zucchini equalling that size, which has already been turned into muffins. Muffins are my preferred method of making zucchini edible. You can’t hide something that size in a salad. Production is well into the hundreds of muffins made so far, many of which enjoy freezer cryostasis atm. While plundering local egg resources, I’ve also been using up lots of old rye flour and cocoa in the same swoop – how I accumulated so much cocoa powder is a mystery.
This is the best zucchini muffin recipe I’ve found. Note- high zucchini to egg ratio, and you can get more zucchini in there than it calls for, too. Easy combining – I prefer “throw it all in a bowl” instructions to mincing around with delicate arcane techniques like “sifting” and “folding”. Folding is for bath towels! And very flexible. Have added sunflower seeds, pine nuts, cocoa, coconut, oil vs butter, fake eggs, dates, milk, apples, and almonds as they came to hand, and the muffins still work.
This is my favorite way to eat tomatoes, en masse! Wedged, drenched (or is that, “dredged”?) in fresh ground black pepper and swept with sea salt. Meow! Definitely can’t stop at just one. Like spoonfuls of creamed honey direct from the bucket when I was little, I can go through tomatoes like this until I feel ill.
Today my big mission, considering my current limitations, was staking the late tomatoes- the second round of starts that are just showing their first fruits. I gave the early tomates some love too- doses of organic fertilizer all around.
Most of my tomatoes are in pots but the one with free roots in the garden is eNORMous, with over a dozen thick stems loaded with giant fruit.
I wasn’t fast enough with the camera, but I watched a happy jay pull a peanut out of a tomato pot I hadn’t reached yet. I hope he was surprised as I was. There were no peanuts in there when I planted! Mayhap the jay was plundering a squirrel stash.
Leaning on a driftwood log as I sit on the rocks in a small cove of ocean-coloured Lake Minnewanka. There’s a hell of a breeze and the sun has already dropped below the mountains, so I’m a little cold, barelegged, but I have my hoodie. There’s a wader minding his own business ankle deep in the water’s edge, and I just got circled twice by a suspicious ground squirrel at close range- plump and bouncy with his racing stripe and black-eyed stare. Continue reading My brush with furred fame→
Living conscionably has to start right now. It’s nice to imagine a future life off-grid without flush toilets, and wearing the homespun wool of ethically raised squirrels, but generating mountains of garbage and emissions on the way from here to there is not ok.
Although I’m still mostly flat, especially since my physio got too ambitious and set me back a week, I’ve been planning, listing, and mapping the next few weeks, aka The Great Divesting. There’s a could-be-considered-gargantuan amount of sorting to be done, with some areas of the house gnarlier than others (basement!). I think I’m going to tone down the scariness of it by getting a storage space temporarily. Then the micro-sorting of stuff like papers and fabrics can be delayed until our time of homelessness. Who wants to be sifting tax-deductible receipts when there’s a whole house to get thru yet?
Work proceeds on getting the Farm in the Forest. The seller is very nice and honest and currently on the other side of the world, so every evening I watch breathlessly for the latest email coming in from an opposite time zone.
I’ve spent a remarkable amount of time on the phone and confuser, talking to lawyers, researching the place, the community, the resources (3 CSAs in Nova Scotia), local bloggers, negatives, planning, water testing, moving options…
So last night, “out of the blue”, like all real magic, we found a “Organic Farm in a Forest” listed on Craigslist. Ridiculously cheap, by BC standards, for 20 acres of neglected orchard and agricultural land, old farm buildings in unknown condition, in… Nova Scotia. Seeing as I was born in Newfoundland and get breathy talking about Halifax, it’s not like I’m considering buying lunar real estate sight unseen, but….close.
To say suddenly moving to Nova Scotia is HUGE is understating it a bit. I’ve been running up and down the Pacific coast for roughly 18 years now- to leave the mountains for the Atlantic is breathtaking, and totally exciting. New province, new politics, new everything. Especially to choose it over 24 hours, seeing only a sketch and google earth.
The biggest goal of my life right now is health. Turns out “health” is a very complex concept. I want physical, financial, spiritual, mental health for myself, but seeing as I’m one organism in a giant ecosystem, that includes all species, and all beings, and all humans on this planet, then my health is inextricably linked to the health of the whole planet. Racial violence, and war, and starvation, and habitat destruction, and species extinction- these are monumental tragedies and we are aware of that pain in our subtle bodies whether or not we wallow in news, or recycle, or grow organic gardens. Try as we might, we are not insulated from any of it.
I think the pervasive toxins and mega-germs and new strains of pests that get new names and chatted up in the media are a physical manifestation, or symbol, of this fact that we’ve collectively ignored for too long- that we share everything. Can’t be ignored any more. Can’t run to the hills, it rains acid there too. Germs circulate the world, we breathe each others’ air, we ingest each others’ garbage. An individual cannot hide from the whole. The “everything” we notice we’re sharing tends to be bad, but joy, ecstasy, and prayer also circle the world and affect everyone, positively.
Well, we cant say no one warned us. The verdict on small-scale farming is unanimous-”it’s F-ing hard work”.
Everyone says they had rose-coloured visions of gazing at the sun-dappled pasture over the cooling jewel-coloured jelly jars, crafting, painting, reading…and the reality involves vomiting goats and falling into bed with brutalized muscles.
But, (you couldn’t see this coming)I want to do it anyway, and insist that “it’s gonna be different.” I’m not yet 40; I make no claim to wisdom.
For me, leisure is a strong enough imperative now that I just might have the fortitude to safeguard it. I’ve long thought of myself as a lazy person trapped in the body of an incredibly energetic and effective person. I privately long to live like a cat, and I fantasize rapturously about sleep.
However, I now believe the trapped personality is a creative one, and creativity requires fallow time. 14% fallow time, by all accounts. For that, I’m long, long overdue.
My primary focus of five years was improving a house to sell, working a real job, and trying to borrow enough money to keep working on house (rinse and repeat). Continue reading Fools Rushing In→