Oh, where have the months gone?

I suppose an update is in order. It's been a busy couple months, and, as a result, I've neglected my blog. Since August I've spent much time planning last-minute details for my wedding, getting married, planning and taking the two-week honeymoon, readjusting (barely) to "normal" life, working 55-plus hours a week at the dairy farm--in addition to all the other little things that pop up. Needless to say, downtime is rare these days; today is an odd day where I have found the opportunity to post.

But don't you worry, any of you three out there who might still be checking out this blog every once in a while, for I hope to be taking shorter hiatuses between posts. Really, I mean it this time. Really. Well, as long as I can stay awake past 9 p.m., which has been a struggle lately.

Time has flown. One month ago we were on the road, probably in Charleston, WV, at the conclusion of our honeymoon. It seems so long ago, but not really. We did a Southern road trip of sorts, starting in New Orleans, winding through Savannah and Charleston, SC, and ending in the mountains of NC, VA and WV. I wish I had a laptop so that I could've blogged on the road.

The whole trip was great, but I can't get over those mountains. We camped in Cataloochee in the Smokies (our second visit to the great national park--the first coming a few years back), where we saw the reintroduced elk herd up close and wandered the trails where several thousand people made their homes before the park became a park. Some say Cataloochee is NC's counterpart to Cades Cove, but less crowded and (so the logic goes) more enjoyable. Well, it was substantially less crowded than Cades Cove, utterly beautiful, and filled with intriguing historical remnants, but lacked the sheer, divine power of the Cades Cove landscape. There's a reason Cades Cove is the most visited location in the the most visited national park. That said, Cataloochee was amazing in its own right, and I wish I got to spend more time exploring it.

We also rented a renovated farmhouse near Waynesville, NC that had spectacular mountain views and modern indulgences (like a hot tub on the porch). Loved the view, loved the house, loved Waynesville. But it didn't matter where I was or what I was doing: I just love the mountains, and I can't really put it into words.

All in all, we spent about three days in western North Carolina, partly because we are thinking of relocating to the mountains in the near future. We've spent time on the Tennessee side of the Smokies, which was when we fell in love with the Appalachians, as well as the foothills of Kentucky, and now we've explored parts of NC, West Virginia and southwestern Virginia. Floyd, VA was a very cool little progressive mountain town, population somewheres around 435 (one of the best small towns to raise a family in America, some publication said recently), SW Virginia along the Blue Ridge Parkway was filled with mountain homeyness and a deep, inspiring tradition of American roots music, and everywhere we went in NC was great. West Virginia, while filled with astounding scenery and great nature opportunities, didn't really measure up, though we didn't spend enough time there to really get a feel for it. Let's just say that the state capitol, Charleston, seemed about as lame as cities come. But then again, I'm not a big fan of big cities anyway.

Anyway, the rural and small city areas surrounding Asheville, NC seem like a great place to live (mountain country living and modern, progressive, urban benefits in one area). After descending back to the flatlands I couldn't let go of the feelings I had while being in the mountains--again. Somehow, some undefinable part of me is truly at home in the highlands. When I'm not there I yearn to be there; when I'm there I'm exceedingly inspired.

And sometimes, lately, I seem to lack inspiration. Often, I think I'm just biding my time until I can get home. Then again, sometimes I think I have issues living in the moment and embracing the gifts in front of me, which is probably true. But the awe and excitement I feel when I get to look up and see mountains all around me is impossible to write off as some passing fancy or superficial attraction that will fade with time.

Ever since I left my original home in Illinois, I've thought of myself as a nomad. Place is utterly important to me, hence the current focus of this blog. And central Wisconsin is great and all, but I've always known it would be a temporary place for me. But I'm tired of temporary after all these years, and I want to find a homeplace.

The southeastern mountains are calling me home. The questions is, When can we feasibly make the journey? We need to answer that question very soon.

In the meantime, as I get the opportunity, I plan on changing the focus of this blog because I just don't have the time or passion to do justice to central Wisconsin as a place. Who knows where I'll go with this, but I hope to be able to write something of value, even if it's just random ramblings.

How a sprain leads to useless ponderings on technology

Being laid up here for the past few days has allowed me to ruminate a bit. Part of those ruminations have been fueled by reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I can't believe that I haven't read this book up till now, considering my formal training is in English and philosophy; this book is essentially the modern day meeting of literature and philosophy, though more focused on the latter than the former. But I don't intend to review the book in this here post, or dwell on literature or philosophy.

Instead, I want to talk, I think, about plain old technology, a concept central to the book and something I've thought deeply about often. The last few days I've been sitting around a lot, generally recuperating my wrist, reading, clicking away with my left hand on the computer, and watching a bit of baseball, all the while with a fan blasting me--because it's been farking hot. And it occurs to me in this very situation that I hate technology and love it at the very same time.

I pretty much hate modern dwellings. My apartment sucks. It's almost prison-like in the way it separates you from the outside world--and most abodes I've experienced are the same way. But that's the way it is I suppose: modern housing does a good job of protecting us from the elements. And yet, that protection seems detrimental in some aspects, as if the my body requires at least a bit of the elements I'm not getting inside my place. I'd like to think that we could do a better job designing these places we spend so much time in.

Now, you're probably shaking your fist at the screen saying, Just go outside, crapface! I know. You're right. But, as I said, it's been so hot, and my wrist has crippled my ability to walk around pain free without wearing a big brace or some Ace bandages. And so I decide to stay mostly inside. And sulk a bit.

And inside lives the remarkable invention known as the fan. It moves the air and dries my sweat, leading to some cooling of my body and a slight bit of satisfaction. Just a bit. But it's nice. What if there were no fans? Well, I'd get by, probably with a couple of fanning slaves from the neighboring tribe, but you can't really beat fans for efficient cooling (and their relative lowness on the cruelty scale): for pocket change and a few units of renewable energy I can stay fairly cool all day long and rest my wrist.

In contrast, my new neighbors feel they have to run their air conditioner all day long, every day. Now, I don't wanna be a snooty asshole about this; I've contemplated using the A/C a couple times over the past few days, and we've even kicked it on once this year (it's a-nice), but air conditioning has to go in the category Inventions--Fairly Bad. Not only is it a wasteful power sucker (and consequently a major polluter) but it's also loud and expels additional hot air into the already hot air outside. You know about urban heat islands? Well, I have to imagine that A/C units contribute a bit to that phenomenon. How does that saying go? It's like robbing Peter to pay Paul ... or some such ridiculous thing. Stupid technology, unless it is required for health purposes.

Anyway, I'm conflicted. I'm not really a luddite (well, kind of). Nor am I by any means a tech junkie. Generally, I'm just a practical fellow who tries to get by with the minimum. And I've always wanted to make a list of what I consider the most essential and useful forms of modern technology (that is, technologies that require electricity or its equivalent) for no other reason than to amuse myself. So, here we go:

• Refrigeration -- This will always be at the top of my list. Refrigeration, as well as its cousin, freezing, is one of those things that make life a whole lot better for humanity in general. Being able to preserve food makes things substantially easier. Of course, I could rely on spring houses, cellars, and caves, but then I'd have to worry about snakes and bears and security and ease of access. Refrigeration is a major improvement.
• Computers -- What a tool for democratization, connectivity, and problem solving. We don't even know the potential yet. Also, as a form of entertainment, the interactivity of computers is a giant improvement over TV.
• Powered transportation -- God, don't make me say cars, because that's not really what I mean. What I mean is powered vehicles make the world more accessible to the individual (and simultaneously limit our reliance on animal labor). And this desire to explore, I think, is somehow encoded in our DNA. The current transportation paradigm is way fucked up, but we have to start somewhere I guess.
• A/V recording and preservation -- How fucking sweet is it that I can hear Tuvan throat singing in my own house? Or throw on something that was recorded in the early 20th century? Future generations will be overwhelmed by such direct, multifaceted access to their ancestors' world.
• Indoor plumbing and sanitation -- This kind of stretches the definition of the list, but it's one of the big, important technologies of our time.

Hmmm. I'm out of time and ideas. Dinner must be made. In an oven. With electricity. I'd use wood or solar if I could though.

Hurt

I haven't posted in a while because 1. farm work has been quite the adjustment for me, and 2. I slipped and fell while dismounting from a skid steer and seriously sprained my wrist. Needless to say, this is really the first day in several days I can type without too much pain. But it's still fairly uncomfortable (there's some weird sort of stiffness/pressure in the inner wrist) . So, I'm on hiatus from most things for a while. Should be back posting soon, and hopefully better adjusted to my new line of work after this forced rest.

Mmmm... beer

We spent last night at The Art of Brewing event down on the Square in Stevens Point taste testing the best malty-hoppy goodness Wisconsin has to offer. By my count there were 10 breweries represented, one wine table, and a totally out of place Cold Stone Creamery cart offering their crap for $3 (beer and ice cream do not mix, OK?). Entrance was $15. We were given a three-ounce tasting glass and the opportunity to take as many samples as we wanted by 9 pm. Let's just say that I seized that opportunity. It was like liquid heaven.

Of tasty note was the Milwaukee Brewing Co.'s three offerings: pale ale, ale, and stout. I've had a lot of Wisconsin beers, but never from these folks. I think they're a fairly new operation. Glad they were there to show me the light. The Solomon Juneau Ale was exceptionally good; it seemed to be fairly light on hops for an ale and had a slightly sweet, almost vanilla character to it. Will definitely buy it.

Also great was South Shore Brewery from way up north in Ashland. I've had one of their beers before--the Honey Pils, which I believe is my favorite Wisconsin beer--and discovered last night that their Herbal Creme Ale is about as yummy as Ales come. Actually, the name of the beer says it all: it's got a complex body of herbally flavors that is exceptionally smooth and creamy. Probably my favorite beer of the night. They also had a very good Nut Brown. I was lucky enough to have been handed nearly a full bottle of the creme ale at around 8:58.

Other breweries represented: Wisconsin favorite New Glarus (always excellent), Minnesota-based Summit (didn't leave any impression on me), Sand Creek (OK), Capital (yum), Miller (boo!), Tyranena (not my favorite), local micro-micro Central Waters (great bourbon barrel stout and porter), and, of course, Point.

Point has changed the label of their White Biere. It is now being called Belgian White. The brew is still the same, but the dude at the Point booth told me that they made the name change to avoid some sort of confusion about the type of beer it is. Something to do with how the Germans say "vit" or something. I don't know. Either way, it's a pretty unique and tasty beer.

Also, local home brewing shop Point Brew Supply was on hand to let us know that they are in the process of opening a really really really microbrewery at their new location in Plover. They hope to have their first beer served up at the Springville Wharf Restaurant (which will become part brewpub when all is said and done) round about September. I forget what the name of the first beer will be, but it has something to do with a big "O." I can't wait to try it.

I can't believe I remember all this stuff.

Exhausted

Things have been a bit out of the ordinary here lately. I had hoped to post with more frequency since blog traffic was on the rise. But I recently quit my job as an editor/writer to become a farmhand on a dairy farm (makes perfect sense, right?); I've been waking up at 4 am and putting in 14-hour days, which has left me sort of zombie-like and generally discombobulated. But I've just begun a four-day weekend, which is nice. More on the experience in future posts. For now I'll just say that it has been a great learning experience so far and much more satisfying than my last job-- but exceptionally hard.

Anyway, it's late and I probably need to sleep (sleep schedule is all messed up right now). Hopefully I'll post again in the next couple days.

On the farm, day 4 -- Beetlejuice

Friday was a fairly easy day on the farm. We did a little cleanup from the previous days' harvest and set up boxes for the upcoming week. Then we hoed around the eggplant, which have beautiful little blueish flowers sprouting, and squished potato beetles that were doing their best to keep all the eggplant to themselves. It was quite unpleasant to squish adult potato beetles with my fingers (compared with the juveniles, who weren't crunchy), but such is the trade off: instead of spraying his crops with all sorts of pseudo-safe pesticide, farmer Mark employs a time-tested, more direct approach to crop protection. Either way, the bugs die; having to crush the beetles with my own hands has helped me realize that the production of almost all food involves some sort of death. I never thought about it so concretely when I bought my food in the grocery store or at the farmers market.

Oh yeah, we also rolled up some ground cover before working on the eggplant. I'm not sure what the purpose of the cover was; perhaps it was some form of insulation. I try to ask Mark questions, but I also try not to be a burden out there. Plus, we're usually really busy. Anyway, after the eggplant we moved some sprinklers around and laid some t-tape in the broccoli beds. T-tape is used to drip-irrigate the crops; it has tiny holes in it, which allows the water to slowly make its way into the soil. I believe Mark said he is testing out the sprinklers for the first time this year. He finds the t-tape more efficient, but doesn't like the fact that he has to trash it when he's done using it on a particular row of crops.

This week's sustenance: lettuce, mixed greens, salad turnips, garlic scapes, scallions, snow peas, snap peas (sweet like candy!), and swiss chard.

Photos from Connecticut

Just got back from a week's trip to beautiful rural Connecticut. I'm still settling in, and I hope to post something of some sort of substance soon. In the meantime, check out a few photos from the trip.

Wildlife abounds. In the center is an adult from a family of woodchucks that lives on the property where we stayed (116 acres in central Connecticut). If the photo were better you'd also see a male red-winged blackbird right behind one of the leaves in the foreground. I have never known them to be feeder birds.
One extremely unique skunk eating cat food on the porch.

An adult raccoon wanting to get in on the action during a previous evening.

They feed together (though the coon was hesitant because the skunk had sprayed it the night before near the feeding dish, and while this photo was being taken, the skunk was literally doin' the fakeout on the coon, causing the coon to flinch with fear).

Finally, a shot of the drawbridge in Mystic, Conn. Those are large concrete blocks that apparently utilize the force of gravity to help the bridge open. It was quite a sight.
I'm playing around with ways of posting photos to blogger, so hopefully these come out OK.

A few photos

Well, I finally got around to unloading the camera.

My attempt at doing macro with a crappy auto digital presetting. Came out OK I think. Taken in early May.


Not sure what kind of snake this is, but we stumbled upon it in Iverson, near the Green Circle Trail. Early May.


Finally, this porcupine was moving like full-flavored molasses up this tree in Black River State Forest. A week and a half ago.

On the farm -- Days 2 and 3

It's Monday and I'm still in pain. Friday was a killer day on the farm. Not only was it something like 90 degrees without a cloud in the sky, but we spent most of our time doing squats while weeding and transplanting. We also went back on Saturday in lieu of this coming Friday. My quads are very upset with me, and so are a number of other leg muscles I never knew existed.

Friday

So, we weeded more garlic crops. It's a good thing, too, because the weeds were so thick in some areas that the particular plants in the vicinity were obviously stunted. And, remember those nitrogen-fixing flowers we removed last time? Turns out that they were part of the thickness problem in some areas, and we were asked to pick 'em this time so that they don't keep reseeding and become serious weeds themselves.

Then we moved onto transplanting a couple varieties of french crisp head lettuce. It's Farmer Mark's favorite kind of lettuce. They were seeded earlier in the season, and at about 2-4 inches tall they were ready to go in the earth. Mark prepared the bed of soil with his biodiesel-fueled tractor; then we rolled this nifty homemade-looking barrel-like contraption over the area to put divots in the soil that would serve as home base for each plant. I couldn't even tell you how many transplants we did (my thighs say, "lots"), but it was a great experience actually putting our food in the earth by hand. The process consisted of taking the seedling--which was rooted in a "plug" of soil--putting it in the divot, gathering the surrounding soil with our hands to cover the plug, and pushing the plant into the soil so that it would make good contact with the earth. Each plant was thus in its own crater of earth, where any water would readily collect and efficiently hydrate the lettuce (this system of planting is especially important, I assume, with all the hot, dry days we've been having recently in central Wisconsin). Running my hands through the warm, nutrient-rich soil was a peaceful, warming endeavor. I naturally feel connected to the earth, but this was a new type of connection for me; despite dripping with sweat and being inundated by the sun's powerful rays, I felt as if I were sitting lakeside amidst a cool breeze, underneath a thick canopy of trees.

Our remaining time was spent watering the transplants and hoeing. We took home radishes, turnips, some sort of green leaf lettuce, swiss chard, salad mix, and strawberries.

Saturday

I was already hurting Saturday morning, but it was back to the farm for another three hours. It rained moderately, so we spent almost all of our time rehabbing a long-overgrown greenhouse. Let me tell you, it was like a rain forest of wild plants and remnant oregano in there. And some of those plants had deep roots. And it was so humid. And I'm such a cry baby. But I did end up soaked in my own sweat from head to toe; so, so much for staying dry in the greenhouse.

A couple interesting encounters: we ran into some either thistle or nettle that fucking killed. Grabbing this plant is like grabbing onto thousands of tiny needles that stay in your hand for most of the rest of the day. Also, while digging out the oregano we encountered little bugs that would toss little particles of stuff at us. I don't know if it was a a defense mechanism, but I've never seen anything like it.

Anyway, after about 2.5 hours or so, we succeeded in turning the "weed" rain forest into earth that is almost ready for crops (the soil is well-compacted from being trampled for so long). It was quite a transformation. Wish I had my camera.

We've subsequently used our crops in several salads and sandwiches. It was my first-ever taste of swiss chard, which is so yummy I can't recommend it enough. It has a very earthy, crispy, hearty flavor unlike any other leafy green I've had, and apparently it is much more nutritious than spinach even. It works good raw (especially when its young, but if not, just remove the stems for cooking at a later time), sauteed (I cooked it with fresh garlic, olive oil, and onions), and steamed.

Today, I'm trying for the second day to recover from the farm work (I could barely walk straight yesterday). I thought my legs were strong, but I guess I fooled myself. Tonight I'm making stir-fry with turnips, radishes, turnip greens, chard, onions and tofu, all over a brown-rice/wild-rice mix. Not sure what the sauce is gonna be yet.

Ruining the climate change party

How about that An Inconvenient Truth? I actually think that Al Gore changed the world like few people have in recent history. Don't ask me how he made such a tremendous splash with a PowerPoint presentation. I guess it was the straightforward, few-frills approach. It's quite unexplainable. Whatever the case, we've reached a tipping point, where a critical mass of people stands up to tell our leaders (and everyone else in the panopticon) that something needs to be done or shit is really going to hit the fan. Even non-chemists know what the hell CO2 means now. Every company that wants to continue making money has learned that they have to "go green" and proclaim their love for "the environment" publicly. For fuck's sake, even Rupert Murdoch, in what must be a sign that the Four Horsemen are on their way, has said that he is revamping News Corp. to be more, as the kids say, ecofriendly.

I'm all for it (ignore my cynical panopticon reference for a moment), as long as people back up their talk with action and we see the earth and its creatures (people too, for you anthropocentrists) begin to heal after a couple hundred years of industrial onslaught.

But, I'm a party pooper, too. See, there are two major problems with all the rage over climate change: 1) some people are faking their concern or using it to cover other misdeeds, and 2) the welcome but overly obsessive focus on this issue has taken almost all attention off other equally important ecological issues.

Regarding point 2, yeah, it sucks that so many people are pumping carbon dioxide into the atmosphere at such high rates. But it also sucks that so many people are destroying (both legally and illegally) such large quantities of intricately evolved habitat that unique species are losing their only homes and niches, and localized ecosystems are quickly (in the blink of the earth's eye) collapsing. Biodiversity is on a rapid decline thanks to direct (as opposed to, for example, the secondary collapses associated with climate change) human destruction, which has got to be just as urgent a situation as greenhouse-gas emissions. Let's not take our eye off the larger ball.

I mean, people are obsessed with the topic of climate change. They say, "We're reducing our emissions." That's great and all, but I think reducing emissions and encouraging companies by buying into their emission-reduction advertisements is missing the whole point of making a change. Whether people are reducing their emissions is not really the central concern here: the key question we need to be asking each other is, are you adjusting so that you no longer needlessly wound the earth? In other words, are people reducing their emissions simply because reducing emissions seems like the righteous thing to do , or are they reducing their emissions because they understand it to be part of their wider obligation to protecting their home? If it's the former, we're screwed; if it's the latter, well, then we are automatically concerned with more than climate change and will make a real difference. Wholesale changes are needed, not fads or marketing campaigns.

What I really worry about in the short term with the whole banging of the environmental drum is that people are going to paint themselves green in order to take advantage of the wildly popular image they can create. The cases are popping up already because companies know they can make some serious money if they lead the way.

Here's one example--

Gulahiyi thoroughly informs us, in several well-written posts, of the very recent bursting of a dam that was part of the exclusive, highly touted Balsam Mountain Preserve (nice name, huh?) golf course in the mountains of North Carolina:

Balsam Mountain Preserve is an interesting case. Ever since they set up shop here, they’ve garnered plenty of press. But reportage has been almost entirely public relations, with hardly any NEWS. Chalk it up to a Balsam Mountain Preserve public relations team that understands media, understands the message it wants to convey, and understands how to use environmentally-friendly jargon designed to project a certain image.

The out-of-town investors behind the project claimed that the waters they managed in the "preserve" were uber-clean, their practices were so environmentally friendly, and their water was the last remaining haven of southern brook trout. In the meantime, rivers downstream from the golf course were slowly silting up and wildlife was dying. Oh, and it turns out that they were wrong about the trout. And then, the damn burst and people downstream were really up a creek. Luckily no one died. But the local media are apparently doing a shitty job of reporting on the situation.

Golf courses and rich folk retirement/vacation communities are going up all over the mountains (ah, to enjoy nature's beauty, right?), leading to landslides, water quality problems, erosion, and general habitat destruction.