Have I resorted to the yearly update?

It sure seems that I've failed to keep up my end of the bargain with posting here. It's a sad day in the joeosphere with this yearly posting thing. I am vast. I am composed of deceased stars. Or some shit like that.

Anyway. Some things you should know about me before you decide to rededicate yourself to this enterprise of keeping up with my universe of barely blogging.

One: I now like whiskey. Scotch. Bourbon. Rye. The diehards already know about my fondness for white lightning. As long as it ain't Seagrams.. I also don't like my whiskey distilled in old radiators. One day I will distill my own. And maybe I will sell it. And maybe I will get arrested--for that and for selling the hemp I will grow. One has to make a living--since I certainly am not quite doing it now.

Two: I live in freaking Indiana. You can shoot me now if you like. But I'm just barely over the border. The farmland I'm renting with my dedicated and morally upright partners in crime is pretty awesome and is near two declared nature preserves (one in Illinois and one in Indiana). But there are a lot of deer. And I'm afraid that I might have to declare Jihad on all the hoofed beasts in this area. Wish me luck in my battle.

Three: I like farming a lot. And I hate having jobs off my farm. I am going to solve this disconnect really soon, just you wait.

Four: I need a new vehicle. Soon. I will make a potion. And with said potion (which will undoubtedly contain some sort of animal horn) I will acquire a magic vehicle. Preferably with four wheel drive and lots of space.

Five: I enjoy watching basketball. Sometimes it's the best thing to do with two hours, because, really, it doesn't matter. Go Bulls.

Six: I've spent the winter working with all kinds of animals on a well-known Chicago-area  farm, and I've learned a ton about animal husbandry. I've also relearned a bunch of stuff about heavy farm machinery, which is always handy. Plus, I've come to find out that many of the youths in America--even those that work for barely any pay on farms in Nowhereville, IL just to learn--are doomed.

Seven: I don't get to travel enough anymore.

Eight: I miss mountains and rivers.

Nine: I really would like not to switch abodes anymore.

Ten: Life be crazy, yo.

Eleven: See ya round. Drop a line if you are out there, friend or stranger. Visit the farm if you are near. Links for the farm will be posted in the sidebar.

Update time?

Yep, I think it is. Funny thing is, it's only been a year since I posted. I could have sworn it was two. So, I guess I'm doing better than I thought.

Anyway, a lot has been going on these past couple years. And for some reason I just haven't been inspired to post. I love writing because it's a creative outlet and I like sharing my little corner of this existence with random people and loved ones, but sometimes the motivation is just not there. Which is fine. These things happen, and I'm not gonna fight it. Same thing has been happening with reading lately. I am typically a voracious reader, but for the past year or so, I just can't get through a book. Maybe my brain is dying.

Honestly though, I went through a rough patch and came out of it fine--and certainly changed. Last spring felt like a rebirth of sorts.

Since my last post, I've mostly been working at a farm a little west of Chicago. It's a farm only in the sense that a small part of what they do is grow some of the vegetables they sell, and people actually buy those veggies--so starved are folks in suburbia for fresh, local food that they'll buy anything marketed as local and green again and again. We'll just leave it there.

But the year was not a loss in any sense. I continued to learn what not to do, mostly, and I met a bunch of great people. My co-workers at the farm were so great, in fact, that two of them have become my business partners and we have started a farm together. And the rest are future partners, or lifelong friends at the least.

Our farm is about 50 miles south of Chicago. We're doing a CSA and growing crops for seed. At the same time I'll be the assistant manager at the previous farm I apprenticed at, Peasant's Plot. So, I'm going to be one busy bastard here shortly. It's already been busy coming up with the farm plan, acquiring the tools we need, and starting all these seeds. But April is going to be a whole different story, what with having to move and find a new vehicle on top of the season really beginning in earnest.

So, I don't know how much you'll be hearing from me on here, but I wanted to get an update in. The farm will have a blog, and maybe I'll provide the link for that. But I'd like to try posting a little more frequently here, if possible.

Gratuitous daffodil shot

Another sign of Spring in some places. This was taken in the wilds of Connecticut last year.

Garlic should be worshipped by some cult

One of the signs of Spring.

This photo is from last year. In the background you can see, from right to left, the old corn crib we used as a packing shed, the 77 RV I lived in for several months, and the machine shed that featured, among other things, a fairly large half-pipe that attracted skaters from all over.

It's a blessing and a curse

The season is coming. Almost seventy here the other day. It's like waking up.

I sit here, earbuds in, succumbing to the music. Which is about as good as it gets to me. There is nothing better than good music. And really, there's no explanation for it. It might as well be some bleeps and boops, strums, pounds, knocks. Which is what it is. But for the life of us, we have no real explanation for why music brings us pure joy. I'm as close to a rational dickhead as you can get, but I still accept things on faith. Music for one. It's a spiritual (fuckin' a, you read that right) experience for me, and I don't need an arguable reason. Same with being outdoors, exploring, immersing myself in whatever it is. I don't really care what "whatever" is; I think that's when I'm at my best. The rest--self-identifying as rational, trying too hard to feel the unexplainable, rebelling in some small way--is all bullshit. I could probably be a really good Buddhist or Taoist if things were different. Good thing or bad? Who knows.

I really wasn't meant for this time and place, I tell myself. But, being honest, maybe I wasn't meant for any of the times and places. I like to think I could be John Muir swaying in the treetops. Or Aldo Leopold observing the land. Or Montaigne questioning everything. Or Kurt Cobain killing myself.

Don't fret over the last, I have enough self-esteem and appreciation for being alive. But I can relate to the feeling. I always could. I like extreme feelings, though/because I can't express them properly in my everyday life.

So, tomorrow I plan on going to some karaoke in the city, where, no doubt, the music will be middling to terrible, but the beer will be cheap. And friends will be there--along with other people I don't know much or at all.

And we'll have fun.

Bees leaving the hive

Just a couple pics from last season. It kind of freaked me out a little, even though I know better on a rational level.

They swarmed, found a spot to hang out for a moment, sent out some scouts, and a few minutes later the whole pile took off in a giant cloud toward the creek. Pretty amazing to see up close.

You thought I was gone!

Ha! And so did I. For a little bit.

But. I'm back. For maybe a little bit. Or a while. Who knows. But I'll try.

Quick summary for any stragglers: farmed again, just south of Chicago, with great folks (updated links coming soon). Lived in an RV with no water, no stove, and some electricity. Learned more about building, composting, manure management. Cut and planted and dug sooooo many potatoes, but I still love them. Summer squash can kiss my ass. I'm a new fan of the wheel hoe. Bees are fuckin crazy (when they swarm like three times in a single season, and they're right by the packing shed, right?). The Earthway "precision" seeder can still kiss my ass (but I can empathize with it a little more). I like soil blocks for seed starting. Kale might be my favorite crop to grow for sale (but come on America, when will you learn to love the kale?). Maybe this coming summer won't be as hot. This past fall and winter were something I might need about 12 beers and a half a pack of cigarettes to write about. Maybe I'll just skip the blog and go right to the novel for that one.

So guess what? I'm farming again this year. In the outskirts of the western Chicago suburbs. My long journey away from the suburban wasteland has brought me full circle. I still don't know how I feel about this situation, but I'm trying to embrace it. This is life. Or a life.

More later. 

Growing again

So, we got a van. A crappy one. For cheap. I think it leaks three different fluids, but it managed to get us across the country. And it still runs. While the gas mileage sucks compared to my dearly departed Kia--and it is much less reliable--the bright side is that it holds lots of stuff, or people, or maybe both. So far so good. But I'm trying to top off the transmission fluid, and it's proving to be a project. Even the simplest things... right?

Yep, the simplest things have been problematic lately. I won't bore you with the details. But simple is definitely not to be confused with living simply. The past few months have been anything but an act of simplicity for us. We've been living way beyond our means and desires lately, and it has taken its toll in many ways. At least for me. I think living in such a way makes all the simple things much more of a project than they need to be; or maybe it leaves me lacking the patience to deal with the simplest of things.

But whatever mumbojumbo I'm talking about in the previous paragraph can just float away and be gone as far as I'm concerned. We're settling in at the new place, already constructing a couple hoophouses and learning some new ways of growing (like bottom-watering your soil block seedlings started under cheap-ass fluorescent lights).

More details about new farm experiences and re-immersion to come. For the moment, we're working hard, getting situated in our small, primitive RV, and readjusting to the flatlands. The farm we're staying at is a narrow, 500 ft-wide strip of vegetable-growing diversity in the middle of king corn and it's scantily clad consort, queen soybean. Today, the land is wide open for miles, save the occasional farmhouse, the seemingly rarer tree, and millions of acres of corn and soybean stubble. Many of our neighbors under the considerable power of the AMDs and Monsantos of the world busily blast their near bare soil with tons of deeply extracted anhydrous ammonia. Soon, we'll be surrounded by vast forests of magically grown commodity crops. It'll certainly be a different sight.

In the meantime, we've got potatoes and spinach to plant.

(Internet access is rare, so updates may be spotty for awhile)

Back to the Midwest

So, we're going to be rambling our way back to good ol' Illinois (which is where we're originally from, for any new readers out there), where we'll be apprenticing for another season on a diversified small farm. We decided that family and long-time friends were important to have near us (relatively) as we anticipate finding some land to settle down on for the long term. It'll be hard to give up my dream of living in the beautiful mountains of the Southeast. I mean, I really felt at home there, but some things are more important than other things. And at least I got a chance to be there for a time.

But first, I've gotta find a new car. My long-lived and trusty '98 Sephia was destroyed in an accident. Got a couple weeks to find a replacement and then head halfway across the country and move in to a new living space (which is going to be: a motor home of some small size, on a farm about an hour south of Chicago). We'll see how the cats like their new digs. Or, how we will, for that matter.

We can't wait to get dirty again.

This and that

Oh blog, how I've neglected you. Readers, if any of you are left out there, let me tell you that I've been living in a place with a virus-ridden computer, and, besides, I haven't been inspired much to write. We've been trimmin and cuttin down trees up in CT. Well, to be honest, we do the ground work while an experienced treeman (wife's uncle by marriage) does the rope climbing. There's lots of downtime otherwise, and I've been trying hard to find a place to relocate to come spring.

Connecticut is a nice place to visit. And Chicagoland, where I'm typing from now, is kind of an interesting visit, but not really, if I'm being honest about it. The former is way too steeped in the culture of money, and the latter is a contender for ground zero of the imminent destruction of suburban sprawl, happy motoring, and faceless centralization. So, you know, for me, lately, inspiration is hard to come by.

Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed a good bit of my time in Connecticut. Hanging with family, learning to butcher a deer, tinkering with cars, meeting some great people, seeing the ins and outs of tree care: all things I'm grateful for. And the Chicago area has my core family and lots of cherished friends.

But I feel better when I'm living purposefully, working the land, watching the clouds, helping the neighbor bale hay, laying on the ground, fishing the stream, kicking back with some tunes or a movie and a beer after busting my ass all day long.

I see winter gripping almost the entire nation right now. Up in the north we'll get our obligatory January thaw before the wrath of another cold spell. Then it'll turn again, and we'll have to start thinking seriously about planting somewhere. Got prospects back down in WNC right now, but nothing concrete.

Looking forward to it though.