Thursday, November 16, 2017

Fatwood and Home
















Seems I am always finding some curbside-dumpster treasures, and bringing 'em home, like the neighbor's tree stumps that were headed for the landfill. I called the boys to come roll them home, and we've been using them ever since. Stump tables, stump chairs, stump forging bench, stump viewing perch. The goats hop on them, children hop on them, birds visit them, and wildflowers grow around them. Now we are mining the stumps for the heartwood, which has a mother-lode of resin. It's no surprise to me that Alex would know all about fat wood, that he'd find us some in our own backyard. He's keen on practical knowledge, history, survival, outlasting zombies, natural disasters, and other scary things. It's thanks to Alex that we all have bug-out bags, and well managed first aid kits.

The fatwood smells wonderful, spiced, warm, like a walk, deep in an old growth pine forest. Maria saved me a particularly pretty piece. It's firm, almost luminous as though it came lacquered and polished. It's not sticky, because the sap aged, and hardened. Now it will burn quickly, even if wet, which is why it's such good kindling. I learned all of this from Alex, and Wikipedia... both are good, researched, and helpful resources, and I appreciate having their knowledge, and interesting topics so readily on hand.

The goats are well. This is the time of year when our trees provide plenty of their favorite snacking leaves. This is the time of year when we watch their coats for signs of winter. If Ada gets a wooly undercoat, then we may be looking at a good chill. If Tasha's coat gets extra long and thick, we may even see a good amount of rain. I can't say my weather prognosticating is as well-informed, or reliable, as a Wiki article, but it suffices.

I finished embroidering the last hanky from the four pack I bought. Two were painted and embroidered, and two were done in redwork. And now, I wish I had more blank hankies, though I don't know what I'll do with them all.

In a fit of brave resolve, I planted our big garden bed. It seemed like the hopeful and optimistic thing to do, an act against grief, against curling up in the corner. Maybe I acted too soon, though. The irrigation is all cattywampus, and the whole thing depends on me to hand-water it all. And if the chickens get out, or worse! the goats, I could lose it all. Gee, that doesn't sound hopeful and optimistic of me. Guess I won't mention the skunks and squirrels, or the damned rats.

Uh.

Where was I?

Gardening. For faith, and pleasure. Right. Well, maybe it's not the cure. Maybe, it's just there to coax me, little by little. If one pea survives and blooms in the spring, I'll be thankful.

Did you know there is a hashtag on Instagram for the plush rats from Ikea? Honestly, I am not selling Instagram, or Wikipedia. Well, actually, I do support Wikipedia, gratefully, because I use them, often. But Instagram is just fun for me, and I thought you should know there is a #ikearat, and it's hilarious.

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