Thursday, after mucking, mulching, and milking, Aaron and I stained the deck at the Dogwood Chalet.  We stained the outside perimeter and the railing first to still have access from a dry deck floor.  Then we strategically stained the floor to avoid “painting ourselves into a corner”, as the saying goes.  We had hoped to use a roller but realized that we had to use a brush to stain between the planks.  An individual board was nearly done after that so we just finished it off with the brush.

We had also made sure to retrieve any tools left in the chalet before limiting our access.  However, I had finished my side of the deck and went inside the Earthship to write a blog, when I remembered I had hung the camera inside the chalet.  I ran out to stop Aaron before it was too late and arrived at what was the last possible second before loosing access to the door.

Aaron “The Amazing”, or “The Single Man-Looking-For-a-Wife” (self-named and inserted at his request), stretching and contorting his nimble figure in true yogi form, level to that of the Sadhu Babas, seemingly opened the door with his mind, defied all physics, and disappeared inside to return in an instant, camera in hand, with even greater balance and grace–perhaps from having achieved enlightenment.  Camera saved, I returned inside.

Jay and Annie soon returned from speaking to the Hare Krishna New Vrindaban Community in West Virginia.  I mentioned that I had watched The Economics of Happiness and Annie and I began to discuss ways we could make an impact toward localization. However, I don’t yet know enough about it.

It’s clear to me that localization is the way to go.  I don’t need further convincing but having a working knowledge base to be able to defend localization and inform others is an eventual goal.  But, still filled with inspiration from the film, I was anxious to see actual progress, so I tried briefly to find online a simple list of successful ventures people had undertaken that could be adapted to any city.  I was encouraged to find numerous movements and efforts implying an imminent green revolution, but the information seemed so spread out and garbled that it was un-navigable, even on a singular website.

(I did find that several cities have established a tool library, wherein patrons could check out tools like books! Genius! I wonder what else could be “library-ed” for communal sharing.)

I’m also new to Muskingum County.  I don’t know the political agenda or the demographic concerns.  I wonder how receptive the area would be to a green revolution.  Does anyone know what people are already doing to create a sustainable economy and a reliance on community, or does anyone have ideas?

Wednesday started off right with over-easy eggs on rye, buttered thick. Then I spread more muck-mulch around trees during morning chores. Tomas is slowly looking better, limping less, but I’m not sure how long a sprained ankle will take to heal.

 

We had planned on staining the deck today, but Aaron called “an audible” so we painted some trim instead. I have, for as long as I can remember, loathed painting. As a skill, it requires perfect precision, but as a product, it runs on chaos, ruins your clothes, gets in your hair, doesn’t come off your skin with a knife, and is one of the most toxic things on the planet. I painted anyway, but not without incident.

 

First, we had to scrape off all the lime plaster that had dried on the trim we wanted to paint. In addition to the window and door frames, we painted the eaves as well. That proved to be the difficult part. Working over-head, against gravity, forces all the paint in your brush to fall away from the tips and drip. Thankfully, we had the foresight to lay plastic over the deck to catch it all. However, when I moved the ladder, a leg caught the plastic and pulled it away from the dripping area. I saw this happen and put it back before I climbed back up. But, when next I came back down, I noticed a bigger problem… the remainder of the gallon of paint had fallen over. When I had reset the plastic, I must have tugged hard enough to flop the can, which was out of sight behind me. Luckily, the paint all spilled onto the plastic, so we picked it back up with our brushes and put it back into the can.

 

When we finished, I scrubbed myself clean and then we drove down to the river to gather some driftwood for an art installation on the outside of the Dogwood Chalet and for a lamp stand inside.

 

After losing another game of Scrabble when Aaron played “cog,” “cat,” and “go” for something like 26 points, I retired from the sport altogether (probably until tonight anyway), and watched a documentary recommended by Annie and Jay called, The Economics of Happiness.

 

The Economics of Happiness debunks the myth of globalization and consumerism (what politicians call “economic growth”) as the key to a better life and a better world, exposing the facts that prove globalization to be, not the solution to, but, the cause of every form of poverty from financial to spiritual. It explains how you are feeding the beast by risking your money with a big bank rather than investing in a local credit union. It explains why buying food from a large grocery store instead of a local farmer’s market is shooting yourself in the foot. It illuminates the lies you’ve been told and your own denial of believing them. The truth is so apparent you can’t help but awake from our own complacency… and hopelessness.

 

Director/Writer/Narrator Helena Norberg-Hodge goes on to explain how true wealth and true happiness are instead found through localization and community and how movements across the globe are saving our world, one local revolution at a time. People like you and me can change ourselves, empower those around us, and together create policy that enables and protects our capacity for a fulfilling, rewarding, and joyful LIFE!

Tuesday, Annie and Jay went to visit the Hare Krishnas in West Virginia to speak on sustainability practices… but not before we had gluten-free pancakes for breakfast! They were delicious. The following picture is entitled, “Eat your breakfast, Breakfast!”  (Sorry, for turned image.  It’s right side up on my computer I swear!)

 

During morning chores, I raked up all the… muck, let’s call it, and stacked it in the muck cart (option two: poop and poop pram). Generally, we add the muck to a pile to create dirt long-term, but Annie had the idea of spreading it out like mulch around some trees. The chickens scratch the nutrients into the ground as they scour the muck for seeds and the straw remains to act as mulch. (Aside from proper planting practices, having a mulch ring around any tree you value is of utmost importance. Ask your local ISA-certified arborist, or me, “Why?”)

 

I checked on Tomas’s ankle and it was still tender, so he escaped another day of training. Apparently, some time ago, Tess, one of the other kids, had fallen in the boulders and got stuck. She cried and was rescued without injury. If the boulders were to blame for her misfortune, and are now suspected of Tomas’s, Annie decided they should be knocked down. So, what was once a two-tiered obstacle is now one.

 

Then Aaron and I finished the scratch coat inside the Dogwood Chalet. I used my hands all day instead of attempting to apply anything with a trowel at all. It went very quickly and smoothly, I thought. However, because I was essentially scraping over rocks and sand all day long, I very nearly wore a hole in the side of my hand. I think I’ll wear gloves next time.

 

Aaron and I then capped of the evening with a game of Scrabble. I’m learning I don’t play Scrabble well. I come up with great words that open up the board for my competitors. I also don’t consider very much the “double word score” squares, et al. I figure if they happen to be under word, that’s great. Aaron, however, will play one letter that makes 4 two-letter words on a triple word score and end up with 100 points. So even though I created “romantic,” I lose. Oh well.

 

As an aside, I’ll mention that using a composting privy while being swarmed by mosquitoes is most unpleasant.

Monday, I tried to milk a few goats and checked on Tomas during chores. His leg still hurt, but I’m beginning to wonder if he is faking it to get out of his harness-training with me. He still runs around, stands on two legs when investigating higher things, jumps into the muck cart, and climbs the rocks. He is very good at being a kid, despite his injury.

 

Jay and Aaron went golfing today, and I would have joined them if I thought I’d be able to hit the ball once. But, I imagined I would have the same luck trying to swing a long strand of hair at a single quark (a sub-atomic particle).

 

There was no clay work on the docket today as it was scheduled to rain, so Annie set me up doing a bit of weeding and bed preparation. So, right outside the entrance to the earthship, I weeded and raked an area 3×12 feet and lightly turned the soil with a mattock. Then I brought in some compost-soil to cover and level the space. The plan is to plant some lettuce, amongst other things, covering the bed with windows for a make-shift cold-frame, giving us greens all the winter long.

 

While I was working there, I took the time to appreciate a praying mantis that had walked up the house from behind some mint. I’m sure it was nervous that I would’ve continued on, not seeing it amongst the foliage, and so sought higher ground for safety. But I had gone as far as I was going to go and so just pondered the creature, marveling at its potentially comical, boxing-nun-style arms.

Then I moved on to harvest some pigweed to dry for the goats for winter. Related to amaranth, a native American grain worthy of eating I’m told, the goats would not be too interested in it now, but in the winter it would be a welcomed treat. I weeded around some other beds that had raspberries and tomatoes growing, harvesting any pigweed I came across as I went along. It was insanely humid as the rain hung stubbornly in the air when I reached the plastic bottle greenhouse to turn another bed. Thankfully, just as I finished, the rain lost its grip on the sky and fell.

I once again retired to the bunkhouse to read only to find the two spiders, once again, engaged in a smack-telepathy, mind-game, staring contest. I tried to take a picture of one.

 

In the evening, it was time to give shots to the two llamas who had alluded us the day before. Not remembering our broken trust from yesterday, they came peaceably into the corral where Jay and Aaron harnessed them and administered the shots. Because they were harnessed already, we walked them around for practice. I had never led a llama before and haven’t spent much time with them here so far. I thought it would feel like leading a horse but I liken them closer to a four-legged ostrich. After a short while, we turned them loose and went back to the house.

Lastly, Aaron and I helped Annie plant a variety of lettuce and beets in the soon-to-be cold-frame and covered it with a light dusting of sand and some screens to protect the seeds from, at least, the chickens. And, with a game of pinochle, the day was done.

Sunday morning, during chores, Annie noticed that Tomas was limping, keeping weight off his right rear leg. It seemed as though he sprained his ankle somehow. I think it was from doing a gainer off a llama, but Annie thinks he fell in the rocks and caught his leg. It’s also possible he was head-butted by one of the other goats. In any case, we decided to keep him and his mom in the kid’s stall to minimize potential threats to further injury.

It was a bad day for all the goats because we had to administer shots. We brought them into the milk room, one by one, tied them up, gave them some food, and then braced them and ourselves. The older, bigger goats took it well with just a flutter of the leg seemingly thinking, “What the… Ow! …ooh, more food, munch, munch.” The kids, however, cried.

Annie was pretty sad about having to give shots in the first place, so when it was obviously painful to some it hurt her as well. It was pretty sad to watch the kids cry. I’ve heard them bleat before, like when calling to, or answering, their moms, but their cry was distinctly painful and so was their expression. I tried to console the goats as best as I could, petting and massaging them, telling them it would be alright via my soul and goat-telepathy powers, and it seemed to work. I think I’ve built a good rapport with them.

After filtering the milk back at the house, I cleaned out the Dogwood Chalet in preparation of finishing the scratch coat, though we didn’t get around to it after Jay showed Aaron and I how to use Joomla, the web design program used for Blue Rock Station’s site.

I went back to the goat barn and the kid’s stall to check on Tomas, bringing some sassafras leaves as a treat. He seemed anxious to be cooped up during the day and was still favoring his leg. It was obviously swollen and he did not want it to be touched. So I pet him, used a little more goat-telepathy, and went to the bunkhouse to read.

Upon arriving, I decided to clean under the bed in the daylight to rid the area of any and all spider webs to prevent further attacks. Then I climbed on the roof to broom everything off to hopefully keep the punctuality award-winning, raucous breakfasting cardinal at bay.

In the evening, it was time to give shots to the llamas. This proved more difficult as Annie, Aaron, and I were unable to corral two of them, coaxing even with feed and hay. It was getting late so we decided to try for the remainder tomorrow and bring the big guns… Jay.

(pictured: the Milk Room and most of the kids.  featured: Etta Mae, who just finished pooping and is checking in on the proceedings.)

Saturday, after the spider and bat debacles, I helped milk some of the goats during morning chores. I still can’t start milk flowing from most of them and haven’t yet attempted those with leaks. Additionally, some have teats seemingly too small for my hands. It seems I’ll have to learn to use two or three fingers.

After chores Annie, Aaron, and I went into town to run some errands but also to peruse the library book-sale. I was hoping to find something by Joseph Campbell but I did not. However, because each book was a dollar or less, I picked up a biography of J.D. Salinger, Machiavelli’s The Prince, a compilation of Robert Frost’s poems, and a book about black holes. (I’m quite interested in physics.) Of course I’ll be reading the rest of Jay’s book, When the Biomass Hits the Wind Turbine, before tackling any of those, especially because I was asked to edit as I go along.

Back at the house, after an omelet and hash-brown lunch, I helped Aaron lime plaster the wall that we had scratch coated last week. Lime plaster is much like concrete and hardens well for an exterior finish. I began to apply it using the trowel again but quickly found that it is better to use my hands. If I use my hands I can better control the material as I apply it and I end up loosing and using less. The trowel tries to make a perfectly flat surface which is difficult when the surface your working on isn’t flat. Because my hand is able to contour with the wall as I go along, I get a more even coat that shows more of the building’s character.

I made sure to shower quickly after as the lime is a somewhat harsh substance, and, after evening chores, work was done for the day.

Terrified, I awoke in the night to the apocalyptic vibrations of ten-thousand bison stampeding toward… my throat! (I figure when a spider is big enough to wake me in my sleep because I can feel it–and hear it!–running across my body, it is worth dramatizing.) After convulsing and flailing my arms in such a way that I felt free of its blood-pumping legs, I reached for a flashlight. Rivaled only by the quests of those who sought the grail, I conducted a thorough search of my bed, sleeping bag, and surrounding area, but was unable to locate my new “frienemy,” and reluctantly returned to sleep.

 

When I first moved into the bunkhouse, I saw a huge spider ( I assume the one that attacked me) perched above the door jam, staring at me with its eight eyes. I thought it was staring at me anyway until I turned to look at the opposite wall which, by no small coincidence, had an identical spider perched at the same height staring back at the first. Having a mind for absurdity, it was then I imagined a scenario not unlike Spy vs. Spy when, after playing mind games with each other all the day long, upon nightfall, fueled by a principled, albeit irrational, hatred for the other, these two behemoth arachnids square off in a no-holds-barred battle-royale, swinging from the ceiling on their gossamer threads, leaping Matrix-style, fangs out, ready to die honorably in combat with their sworn enemy and nemesis.

 

Perhaps this is true and one spider has chosen me as a launching pad because at approximately 6:23 am EST, it happened again. And again, I woke with a start, whipped my arms, and searched to no avail. Then at 6:30, I heard the bat. The sound was coming from a slightly different spot along the soffit outside so I surmised it must be making another hole. I ran out the door and spun around, hoping to catch the culprit in the act, but saw nothing. Puzzled, I listened intently for another clue. Then I heard a scurry on the roof. I pulled myself by the trusses in the eaves to discover… a cardinal! This particular cardinal should win the punctuality award for its raucous breakfasting. I plan to sweep the roof of all potential food particles and leave a sign explaining my restaurant has been shut down for violating city noise ordinances.

 

So two spiders allude me (or more likely the same one twice) and one bat turns out to be a cardinal (not forgetting there actually was a bat in my house initially) and thus I am thrice a fool.

 

You win this time nature, but we shall play again tonight.

Friday, I did not do chores. It was deck building day for the Dogwood Chalet. The materials were delivered early in the morning so we unloaded it from the truck and began to build.

 

A week ago, Aaron and Jay had dug holes, filling them with concrete and a brace to attach to the posts.

So first, we attached the posts to those anchor points, plumbing and supporting each one as we went along. Then with bolts through holes drilled in the posts, we attached the cross-beams that would support the weight of the decking Once in place, we screwed down the deck boards into the cross-beams and used those remaining to erect the rail. Rome may not have been built in a day—lazy Romans—but our deck was, minor imperfections included.

 

The deck took most of the day, so after cleaning up and putting away all the tools, I went off to the barn to work with Tomas. But, the herd was down in the woods, so I let them be.

 

I straightened up the bunkhouse a bit and the adjacent privy, read some more of Jay’s book, When the Biomass Hits the Fan, and called my family to give them an update. (As they’re all reading the blog I didn’t have too many stories to tell.)

 

In the evening, while we were cooking hotdogs around a fire outside the bunkhouse, I plugged up what I hope was the last of the bat holes. Every morning at 6:30, I hear something which I think is the bat getting back inside the ceiling. Since the initial “attack,” I’ve plugged a hole about every day that I just happened to notice while checking the status of a previous hole I covered the day before. Anyway, I hope this was the last one as the scrapings of a leather winged rat is a rather unpleasant alarm.

Thursday. When we arrived at the goat barn for chores we discovered the kids had escaped their stall which meant there wouldn’t be too much milk for us this morning. I tried to milk Tuti and was pretty successful I thought, assured speed and efficiency would come with time. After Annie trimmed a few of the goats’ hooves, taking care not to cut so much to cause bleeding, we exited the milk room to find Tomas once again standing on a llama’s back.

 

We had brought the camera with us today but were unable to get a shot off before he leaped down. I went through a gate and around to where we were hoping he’d jump up there again. I remembered that Tomas is a kid and likes to have fun and that all goats like to be up high, especially if it makes them taller than the other goats. So I bounded around in what I hoped was an obviously playful manner—as opposed to an aggressive signal for a fight to the death—making sure to include a lot of neck action and spins, (I had seen Tomas act like this before).

 

When I stopped, Tomas had perked up, mouth agape, seemingly thinking, “No way that just happened… That thing knows how to play too!” and began to show off his acrobatic prowess as well. Then he stopped and looked to me to see if I had seen and what I’d do. So I spun around and jumped again but this time added a sweet jump up onto some boulders with a spinning dismount. He received the message loud and clear and jumped up onto the nearest llama-boulder. We took turns jumping onto our rocks and I was able to get a few pictures in the meantime.

 

After lunch I helped Aaron cob around the windows on the inside of the Dogwood Chalet. One area required a lot of cob, so much cob that it began to pull away from the wall under it’s own weight. The solution: crush a soda can to fill some space then cob over it. Later we began to scratch coat the inner walls and vaulted ceiling. It was quite messy working over head against gravity, but we prevailed with an acceptable amounts of scratch coat casualties.

 

When I finished I went to see Tomas again. The herd was feeding on the pasture and I wondered if it was a good time to work with the harness. I gave it a shot. Eleanor began to “welcome” me again and was soon joined by Tuti, the second in command and potential throne usurper. Eleanor said, “Nudge, nudge, welcome to my herd,” and Tuti said, “No, nudge, nudge, nudge, welcome to my herd.”

 

This went on into absurdity.

 

Eventually, they wanted to eat again and I was able to get Tomas in his harness. He was even more interested in the pellets this time and would follow me as long as my hand was out and full. Unfortunately, I don’t think he recognized the word “come” as related. Soon a few of the other kids discovered I had treats in my pockets and was forced to be done for the day. I released Tomas and fed him some leaves, saying “good job” as I stroked his back.

 

Then Jay beat Aaron and me in a game of Scrabble. He won by one point over me… but only because I had an unused ‘Q’ for negative 10 points. I went to bed humbled, defeated.

Tuesday I learned to milk goats. It’s harder than I thought it would be. If one doesn’t squeeze just right, the milk goes in the other direction. Also, all the goats are different. Some like to be milked on the left and others the right. Most are happy to be there but a few seem skittish and so we use a large stainless steel bucket as the basin, rather than a milk pail, so if they do kick it, the whole thing dumping over is less likely. The strangest thing I learned was that, in addition to having the regular holes in the teats where milk is supposed to come out, goats can have holes in the side of the teat, and that it is not exactly uncommon. One has to learn where to hold to plug them up, otherwise it can be quite messy and inefficient.

Back at the house, we unloaded the food from Monday’s produce auction, and began to process all the food…there was quite a lot. We stored some in the larder but we ended up with far too many peppers, so we sold some to a local restaurant. Others we stuffed with goat cheese and are going to see how it holds up in the freezer. We used a few more for lunch, sautéing them with red cabbage and cod with a tomato salad and strawberries with cantaloupe as sides.

After lunch it was time to “play in the mud”, as Aaron likes to say. I helped him form a bench inside the Dogwood Chalet by first throwing down some cob in which to nestle bottles like bricks and then covered them up with more cob. When Aaron showed me how to make cob, which is just clay, straw, and water, I was surprised at how little straw one needed. With more cob, I then also leveled the ledge that circles the room. Between that work with cob, and the plastering I did the day before, Aaron and Annie are saying I have a knack for “playing in the mud.” I’m happy that’s the case because I really enjoy doing it so far.

Later in the day I was sure Tomas was just waiting for me to strap him up in his harness so I went up to the goat barn to see what he was doing. He was actually trying to nurse from his mom but she was not cooperating. I gathered up some food pellets and some leaves, not knowing what his preference would be today and approached him with his harness and lead hidden in my pocket. I was easily able to control him to tie him up while I put his two front hooves through the harness. I untied him, took a few steps back to the extension of the lead, and offered some pellets, calling “Come Tomas,” and come he did. I was excited but soon was being nudged by Eleanore, which I was told is her welcoming me into the herd. She was relentless to the point of making me lose my balance. I’ve never felt more welcomed so I decided to take Tomas out into the drive.

Now, this is where he was distracted by rocks and the willows before, but once I got him away from those, he was again passionately interested in the pellets. But having been separated from her kid, his mother began to bleat calling Tomas home and he understands that version of “come” better than mine. I thought perhaps I could lead him in the pasture near his mom but once we were back inside he was interested in being a free kid again so I complied.

During evening chores, all three dogs, Cadaux, Sophie, and Rosie, began to bark so Annie became worried. We were inside the pen with the goats when she began to say “I hope that neighbor’s dog isn’t…” at which time a German shepherd had just finished sprinting across a field, jumping the brush fence to attack Rosie. Now Rosie is extremely old and has no teeth but she reared up to defend herself as best she could. As Annie ran out of the pen toward them commanding me not to let the goats out, the German shepherd had Rosie on her back biting her leg. Annie scared it back into the field it had come from and then ran inside the barn to get a pellet gun in case it came back. While she was inside, it came running back so I responded in kind, charging into the field toward it. It spun around and did not return.

Rosie was shaking, especially her legs, one of which had a drop or two of blood, and she limped as she approached us for reassurance. We petted her until she stopped trembling, and then all of us walked back to the house, ruminating on the seemingly inexplicable cruelty in the world.