Loading...

Follow So Many Books by Stefanie on Feedspot

Continue with Google
Continue with Facebook
or

Valid

From Greta Thunberg’s speech to the MPs of UK Parliament.

The climate crisis is both the easiest and the hardest issue we have ever faced. The easiest because we know what we must do. We must stop the emissions of greenhouse gases. The hardest because our current economics are still totally dependent on burning fossil fuels, and thereby destroying ecosystems in order to create everlasting economic growth.

“So, exactly how do we solve that?” you ask us – the schoolchildren striking for the climate.

And we say: “No one knows for sure. But we have to stop burning fossil fuels and restore nature and many other things that we may not have quite figured out yet.”

Then you say: “That’s not an answer!”

So we say: “We have to start treating the crisis like a crisis – and act even if we don’t have all the solutions.”

“That’s still not an answer,” you say.

Then we start talking about circular economy and rewilding nature and the need for a just transition. Then you don’t understand what we are talking about.

We say that all those solutions needed are not known to anyone and therefore we must unite behind the science and find them together along the way. But you do not listen to that. Because those answers are for solving a crisis that most of you don’t even fully understand. Or don’t want to understand.

You don’t listen to the science because you are only interested in solutions that will enable you to carry on like before. Like now. And those answers don’t exist any more. Because you did not act in time.

If you have not heard about Greta or all of the student-led climate strikes around the world, go and read her most recent speech. And if you have heard of her, read her speech.

Read Full Article
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 

I learned something pretty amazing recently: banana peels are edible.

Say what?

Yeah, I know, right? There is even a banana peel appreciation society Facebook group.

Banana peels may be edible but would you want to eat one? Absolutely! This pulled “pork” recipe is the perfect introduction to banana peels. We made our own coleslaw too. Here is what our version looked like:

But what did it taste like? With all the barbecue sauce and spice it tasted like that, not like a banana or a peel. It’s about the texture when it comes down to it. It definitely has a chewy/meaty mouth feel. James and I each had a sandwich and there were leftovers but not enough for two more sandwiches so we repurposed it, blending it into a spicy lentil sloppy Joe kind of thing. And that was good too.

Allegedly you can use banana peels for any recipe that calls for jackfruit. And of course you can sub the peels for things like shredded beef or pork. I am not sure I will be eating banana peels on a regular basis, but they are a good option to have for the dinner menu.

There is a banana peel bacon recipe we are eager to try. I’ll let you know how that goes when we make it.

Read Full Article
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 

The greatest challenge the Anthropocene poses isn’t how the Department of Defense should plan for resource wars, whether we should put up sea walls to protect Manhattan, or when we should abandon Miami. It won’t be addressed by buying a Prius, turning off the air conditioning, or signing a treaty. The greatest challenge we face is a philosophical one: understanding that this civilization is already dead. The sooner we confront our situation and realize that there is nothing we can do to save ourselves, the sooner we can get down to the difficult task of adapting, with mortal humility, to our new reality.

We are, in case you haven’t heard, living in the Anthropocene. It is the name for our current epoch here on Earth that has been gradually picking up steam and growing into a consensus. The only real argument is what date to pin as the beginning. But that is not what Roy Scranton’s short book, Learning to Die in the Anthropocene is about. He writes from a place of acceptance—we are in it deep, it doesn’t matter if it started with agriculture or the industrial revolution. We are so far into it to and have changed our climate so much that we are on the verge of economic and social collapse, and possibly even human extinction.

Even if we stopped all carbon emissions right this second, there is so much warming built into the system already we cannot hit the breaks. Life on this planet as we know it going to end. Whether or not humans go extinct in the Sixth Extinction, which is going on right now, is not entirely in our hands. What is in our hands is how we choose to live out our lives right now, and whether, or how, we learn to deal with death.

Scranton’s is a philosophical little book. He looks at science, looks at what we know from the last time the earth was hot, considers renewable energy, geo-engineering, politics, economics, and our shrinking resources. If you think technology will save us, you are wrong. The tech we need to implement right now does not exist. If you think we can replace everything we use fossil fuels for with renewables and carry on just like we are now, you are wrong. What we need to learn how to do, Scranton argues, is die. We need to learn to give up the society we have, the life we are used to, the world as we know it, so we can let it all die and start to create something different.

Learning to die as an individual means letting go of our predispositions and fear. Learning to die as a civilization means letting go of this particular way of life and its ideas of identity, freedom, success, and progress.

You can argue that climate change is not your fault, that the big corporations need to own up, that government needs to be bold and DO something. You would be both right and wrong. Climate change is a systemic problem, a hive creation. The blame does not fall on just one person, one government, one oil company. It belongs to all of us, each and every one of us is to blame for it.

Cheap energy makes it easy to not think twice about our role. How is driving a car or flying on a plane for a nice vacation, or buying cheap “throw away” fashion, or tomatoes in January such a big deal? It isn’t if you are the only one doing it. But you aren’t the only one. It adds up. Which also means that if you stopped doing all those things and were the only one who stopped, it wouldn’t make a difference. But if we all stopped… Except we won’t because we don’t see it as a problem we can solve or one that is our responsibility to solve. So we keep using cheap (for now) energy, grumbling about ExxonMobil and the government and how somebody needs to do something. Meanwhile the planet gets hotter and resources continue to dwindle.

We spend a lot of energy denying what is going on and our role in it. We need to stop with the denial and face up to the facts. We need to look death in the face and accept that all things come to an end.

Learning to die is hard. It takes practice… Learning to die demands daily cultivation of detachment and daily reminders of mortality… We will always be practicing, failing, trying again and failing again, until our final day.

While Scranton makes a tour of philosophical humanism, his approach to death shakes out to a mostly Buddhist one in which detachment and easing suffering are key. There is no Heaven or Hell, no Savior, no deus ex machina, there is only us and the ever changing universe.

Learning to die means learning to let go of the ego, the idea of the self, the future, certainty, attachment, the pursuit of pleasure, permanence, and stability. Learning to let go of salvation. Learning to let go of hope. Learning to let go of death.

As to what comes after death, Scranton doesn’t speculate. Not that we shouldn’t think about what comes after, we most definitely should. We need to put our imaginations to work, begin to envision what a world without fossil fuels and capitalism and the need for continual economic growth might look like.

You’d think such a book would be depressing, but it really isn’t. Scranton ends on an almost elegiac note reminding us with the help of Wittgenstein that the universe, and thus we, are total and complete. There is nothing outside and nothing lacking. The universe and the earth made no mistakes. Everything that has happened since time began led up to our existence. We are part of the cycle and flow of life. We are made of stardust. Life on this planet has come and gone. Civilizations have come and gone. Our current one has begun to collapse. Will humans go extinct? Maybe. But step outside for a second, look at the sky, the trees, feel the earth under your toes, let yourself feel the awe and marvel of being alive. And be grateful for this moment.

Read Full Article
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 

There is still ice on the lakes and patches of snow in shady corners, but spring is here. Melody Maple tree in my front yard burst into bloom earlier in the week. The buds on my cherry tree are swelling. My serviceberry, elderberry, chokecherry, currants, apples, honeyberries and gooseberries all have swelling buds too. I keep looking closely at my grapevine. It was a hard, bitterly cold winter and the grape, while hardy to regular winter temperatures, is not guaranteed against record breaking polar vortex temperatures. I think it is showing life but I can’t be sure at this point if it is true or wishful thinking on my part. I will know for sure by next weekend most likely.

Inspector Marianne

Before things got too far along, James and I were out moving the bush cherries and a gooseberry this afternoon. The cherries were on either side of the hazelnut and it was getting rather crowded. Since we are removing the Japanese beetle attracting honeycrisp apple tree, we have some prime real estate opening up for the cherries. The gooseberry we moved was under the apple tree and we relocated it to under Walter, the crab apple. The gooseberry will be in good company there with a black currant, rhubarb, and strawberries.

Of course, the Dashwoods had to assist in the digging and transplanting. They were so excited to help. We first dug the new holes and the Dashwoods hopped in, scratching and digging, intent on finding yummy seeds and bugs. When we were digging around the cherries to lift them out, the Dashwoods were there to help as well, scratching and digging. At one point James had the shovel stuck down in the dirt and was levering it, lifting the cherry from below, and Marianne tried to jump into the gap between the shovel and the ground. She was a bit dismayed to have the ground suddenly moving up and down beneath her.

We need a bigger hole

When I was watering the newly replanted shrubs, the Dashwoods were there too, sipping from the muddy water before it soaked into the ground. And after we lay straw down around the base of the shrubs for a little mulch, the Dashwoods decided it needed some rearranging.

We were all of us happy. The Dashwoods clucking and cooing with joy and chirruping excitement. James and I laughing at their antics and sternly moving them out of the way of the shovel with a foot or hand so no one got hurt.

Digging up the bush cherry

After the shrub moving, I did a bit of work cutting back some of last year’s perennials. The Dashwoods eagerly helped. Mrs. Dashwood squawked in protest when I didn’t look behind me and tossed a bunch of dead aster stems on top of her.

Indoors, this year’s seed starting operation is much reduced from years past. I started marigolds, a little lettuce, a little kale, and a few of the free pepper seeds that came as a “gift” with my seed order. I decided to give up starting plants like tomatoes and peppers (except the free one) because they don’t do all that well in the garden. There is no sense giving over time and space to plants that don’t do well no matter how badly I want them. That is the main reason why we signed up for a small share in a CSA this year. I will let the farm grow my tomatoes and peppers and give over my garden to greens, legumes, squash, and edible perennials, the things that grow best in my conditions.

The Friends School Plant Sale catalog is out for the big sale in May. I combed through it marking wishes as though I had an acre to plant instead of a couple thousand square feet. After I got the wishing out of the way, I made my tentative plant list. Depending on what does and does not come back in the garden over these next several weeks, I will revise the list a time or two before finalizing and printing it just before the sale in May.

I read a fantastic blog post recently at ecological gardening, Gardening as a Political Act of Necessary Beauty. In it, Ayres Fisher mediates about gardening, colonialism, native plants, indigenous people, and what it means to inhabit a place. It is a wonderful piece and I encourage you to go have a read. Here is a little taste:

And by continuing to garden this way, by learning more and then doing more to help the plants as well as the wild creatures that inevitably show up—by practicing gratitude and enacting reciprocity—we begin to live in our place in a way that goes beyond human society only, and help create a path to a livable future. The wild native garden lays its stamp on us through its regional appropriateness. It changes us to something other than what we were. We settle in, become of the earth. Our perceptions of reality might change, and with them our allegiances. We might become more critical of the dominant culture. We might travel away from the colonialism being practiced on us, away from acceptance of the status quo. We might begin to learn other skills, might meet other gardeners who are making the same journey, might find we are part of a different community than the one we thought we belonged to.

Something to meditate upon as I plan my garden and perhaps as you plan yours too. Consider your place and how you and your garden might be a reflection of that place rather than how you might impose your garden and your will upon it.

Read Full Article
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 

From Greta Thunberg’s speech to the MPs of UK Parliament.

The climate crisis is both the easiest and the hardest issue we have ever faced. The easiest because we know what we must do. We must stop the emissions of greenhouse gases. The hardest because our current economics are still totally dependent on burning fossil fuels, and thereby destroying ecosystems in order to create everlasting economic growth.

“So, exactly how do we solve that?” you ask us – the schoolchildren striking for the climate.

And we say: “No one knows for sure. But we have to stop burning fossil fuels and restore nature and many other things that we may not have quite figured out yet.”

Then you say: “That’s not an answer!”

So we say: “We have to start treating the crisis like a crisis – and act even if we don’t have all the solutions.”

“That’s still not an answer,” you say.

Then we start talking about circular economy and rewilding nature and the need for a just transition. Then you don’t understand what we are talking about.

We say that all those solutions needed are not known to anyone and therefore we must unite behind the science and find them together along the way. But you do not listen to that. Because those answers are for solving a crisis that most of you don’t even fully understand. Or don’t want to understand.

You don’t listen to the science because you are only interested in solutions that will enable you to carry on like before. Like now. And those answers don’t exist any more. Because you did not act in time.

If you have not heard about Greta or all of the student-led climate strikes around the world, go and read her most recent speech. And if you have heard of her, read her speech.

Read Full Article
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 

I learned something pretty amazing recently: banana peels are edible.

Say what?

Yeah, I know, right? There is even a banana peel appreciation society Facebook group.

Banana peels may be edible but would you want to eat one? Absolutely! This pulled “pork” recipe is the perfect introduction to banana peels. We made our own coleslaw too. Here is what our version looked like:

But what did it taste like? With all the barbecue sauce and spice it tasted like that, not like a banana or a peel. It’s about the texture when it comes down to it. It definitely has a chewy/meaty mouth feel. James and I each had a sandwich and there were leftovers but not enough for two more sandwiches so we repurposed it, blending it into a spicy lentil sloppy Joe kind of thing. And that was good too.

Allegedly you can use banana peels for any recipe that calls for jackfruit. And of course you can sub the peels for things like shredded beef or pork. I am not sure I will be eating banana peels on a regular basis, but they are a good option to have for the dinner menu.

There is a banana peel bacon recipe we are eager to try. I’ll let you know how that goes when we make it.

Read Full Article
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 

The greatest challenge the Anthropocene poses isn’t how the Department of Defense should plan for resource wars, whether we should put up sea walls to protect Manhattan, or when we should abandon Miami. It won’t be addressed by buying a Prius, turning off the air conditioning, or signing a treaty. The greatest challenge we face is a philosophical one: understanding that this civilization is already dead. The sooner we confront our situation and realize that there is nothing we can do to save ourselves, the sooner we can get down to the difficult task of adapting, with mortal humility, to our new reality.

We are, in case you haven’t heard, living in the Anthropocene. It is the name for our current epoch here on Earth that has been gradually picking up steam and growing into a consensus. The only real argument is what date to pin as the beginning. But that is not what Roy Scranton’s short book, Learning to Die in the Anthropocene is about. He writes from a place of acceptance—we are in it deep, it doesn’t matter if it started with agriculture or the industrial revolution. We are so far into it to and have changed our climate so much that we are on the verge of economic and social collapse, and possibly even human extinction.

Even if we stopped all carbon emissions right this second, there is so much warming built into the system already we cannot hit the breaks. Life on this planet as we know it going to end. Whether or not humans go extinct in the Sixth Extinction, which is going on right now, is not entirely in our hands. What is in our hands is how we choose to live out our lives right now, and whether, or how, we learn to deal with death.

Scranton’s is a philosophical little book. He looks at science, looks at what we know from the last time the earth was hot, considers renewable energy, geo-engineering, politics, economics, and our shrinking resources. If you think technology will save us, you are wrong. The tech we need to implement right now does not exist. If you think we can replace everything we use fossil fuels for with renewables and carry on just like we are now, you are wrong. What we need to learn how to do, Scranton argues, is die. We need to learn to give up the society we have, the life we are used to, the world as we know it, so we can let it all die and start to create something different.

Learning to die as an individual means letting go of our predispositions and fear. Learning to die as a civilization means letting go of this particular way of life and its ideas of identity, freedom, success, and progress.

You can argue that climate change is not your fault, that the big corporations need to own up, that government needs to be bold and DO something. You would be both right and wrong. Climate change is a systemic problem, a hive creation. The blame does not fall on just one person, one government, one oil company. It belongs to all of us, each and every one of us is to blame for it.

Cheap energy makes it easy to not think twice about our role. How is driving a car or flying on a plane for a nice vacation, or buying cheap “throw away” fashion, or tomatoes in January such a big deal? It isn’t if you are the only one doing it. But you aren’t the only one. It adds up. Which also means that if you stopped doing all those things and were the only one who stopped, it wouldn’t make a difference. But if we all stopped… Except we won’t because we don’t see it as a problem we can solve or one that is our responsibility to solve. So we keep using cheap (for now) energy, grumbling about ExxonMobil and the government and how somebody needs to do something. Meanwhile the planet gets hotter and resources continue to dwindle.

We spend a lot of energy denying what is going on and our role in it. We need to stop with the denial and face up to the facts. We need to look death in the face and accept that all things come to an end.

Learning to die is hard. It takes practice… Learning to die demands daily cultivation of detachment and daily reminders of mortality… We will always be practicing, failing, trying again and failing again, until our final day.

While Scranton makes a tour of philosophical humanism, his approach to death shakes out to a mostly Buddhist one in which detachment and easing suffering are key. There is no Heaven or Hell, no Savior, no deus ex machina, there is only us and the ever changing universe.

Learning to die means learning to let go of the ego, the idea of the self, the future, certainty, attachment, the pursuit of pleasure, permanence, and stability. Learning to let go of salvation. Learning to let go of hope. Learning to let go of death.

As to what comes after death, Scranton doesn’t speculate. Not that we shouldn’t think about what comes after, we most definitely should. We need to put our imaginations to work, begin to envision what a world without fossil fuels and capitalism and the need for continual economic growth might look like.

You’d think such a book would be depressing, but it really isn’t. Scranton ends on an almost elegiac note reminding us with the help of Wittgenstein that the universe, and thus we, are total and complete. There is nothing outside and nothing lacking. The universe and the earth made no mistakes. Everything that has happened since time began led up to our existence. We are part of the cycle and flow of life. We are made of stardust. Life on this planet has come and gone. Civilizations have come and gone. Our current one has begun to collapse. Will humans go extinct? Maybe. But step outside for a second, look at the sky, the trees, feel the earth under your toes, let yourself feel the awe and marvel of being alive. And be grateful for this moment.

Read Full Article
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 

There is still ice on the lakes and patches of snow in shady corners, but spring is here. Melody Maple tree in my front yard burst into bloom earlier in the week. The buds on my cherry tree are swelling. My serviceberry, elderberry, chokecherry, currants, apples, honeyberries and gooseberries all have swelling buds too. I keep looking closely at my grapevine. It was a hard, bitterly cold winter and the grape, while hardy to regular winter temperatures, is not guaranteed against record breaking polar vortex temperatures. I think it is showing life but I can’t be sure at this point if it is true or wishful thinking on my part. I will know for sure by next weekend most likely.

Inspector Marianne

Before things got too far along, James and I were out moving the bush cherries and a gooseberry this afternoon. The cherries were on either side of the hazelnut and it was getting rather crowded. Since we are removing the Japanese beetle attracting honeycrisp apple tree, we have some prime real estate opening up for the cherries. The gooseberry we moved was under the apple tree and we relocated it to under Walter, the crab apple. The gooseberry will be in good company there with a black currant, rhubarb, and strawberries.

Of course, the Dashwoods had to assist in the digging and transplanting. They were so excited to help. We first dug the new holes and the Dashwoods hopped in, scratching and digging, intent on finding yummy seeds and bugs. When we were digging around the cherries to lift them out, the Dashwoods were there to help as well, scratching and digging. At one point James had the shovel stuck down in the dirt and was levering it, lifting the cherry from below, and Marianne tried to jump into the gap between the shovel and the ground. She was a bit dismayed to have the ground suddenly moving up and down beneath her.

We need a bigger hole

When I was watering the newly replanted shrubs, the Dashwoods were there too, sipping from the muddy water before it soaked into the ground. And after we lay straw down around the base of the shrubs for a little mulch, the Dashwoods decided it needed some rearranging.

We were all of us happy. The Dashwoods clucking and cooing with joy and chirruping excitement. James and I laughing at their antics and sternly moving them out of the way of the shovel with a foot or hand so no one got hurt.

Digging up the bush cherry

After the shrub moving, I did a bit of work cutting back some of last year’s perennials. The Dashwoods eagerly helped. Mrs. Dashwood squawked in protest when I didn’t look behind me and tossed a bunch of dead aster stems on top of her.

Indoors, this year’s seed starting operation is much reduced from years past. I started marigolds, a little lettuce, a little kale, and a few of the free pepper seeds that came as a “gift” with my seed order. I decided to give up starting plants like tomatoes and peppers (except the free one) because they don’t do all that well in the garden. There is no sense giving over time and space to plants that don’t do well no matter how badly I want them. That is the main reason why we signed up for a small share in a CSA this year. I will let the farm grow my tomatoes and peppers and give over my garden to greens, legumes, squash, and edible perennials, the things that grow best in my conditions.

The Friends School Plant Sale catalog is out for the big sale in May. I combed through it marking wishes as though I had an acre to plant instead of a couple thousand square feet. After I got the wishing out of the way, I made my tentative plant list. Depending on what does and does not come back in the garden over these next several weeks, I will revise the list a time or two before finalizing and printing it just before the sale in May.

I read a fantastic blog post recently at ecological gardening, Gardening as a Political Act of Necessary Beauty. In it, Ayres Fisher mediates about gardening, colonialism, native plants, indigenous people, and what it means to inhabit a place. It is a wonderful piece and I encourage you to go have a read. Here is a little taste:

And by continuing to garden this way, by learning more and then doing more to help the plants as well as the wild creatures that inevitably show up—by practicing gratitude and enacting reciprocity—we begin to live in our place in a way that goes beyond human society only, and help create a path to a livable future. The wild native garden lays its stamp on us through its regional appropriateness. It changes us to something other than what we were. We settle in, become of the earth. Our perceptions of reality might change, and with them our allegiances. We might become more critical of the dominant culture. We might travel away from the colonialism being practiced on us, away from acceptance of the status quo. We might begin to learn other skills, might meet other gardeners who are making the same journey, might find we are part of a different community than the one we thought we belonged to.

Something to meditate upon as I plan my garden and perhaps as you plan yours too. Consider your place and how you and your garden might be a reflection of that place rather than how you might impose your garden and your will upon it.

Read Full Article
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 

What a delight to page through Literary Chickens by Beth Moon! There is nothing literary about the chickens in the book. For some reason, Moon, an amazing photographer, thought it necessary to include literary quotes next to each chicken portrait. But the quotes have nothing to do with chickens or anything really, so I gave up reading them and just studied each chicken portrait.

The portraits are in black and white, or I guess technically sepia tones. This surprised me since chickens have such colorful plumage. Moon explains she chose to remove the color because it is so often distracting. And she is right. Without the color we see more of the pattern details and look more closely at the eyes, head, bearing.

The chickens are all heritage breeds, some of them rather rare. A number of them belong to Isabella Rossellini. Rossellini has a farm on Long Island where she raises heritage breed chickens. I had no idea.

I already knew that chickens are originally from Asia, but I didn’t know that it was cockfighting that sent them out across the globe. In the mid-1800s chickens became popular in Britain when Queen Victoria was given some as a gift. She loved her chickens, had a fancy coop built for them, and hired them a special caretaker. I don’t know what breed these chickens were, but apparently they were enormous—nearly three times as large as the average chicken these days with giant eggs to match. Once the Queen began keeping chickens, everyone else had to get in on it too. The first ever British poultry show took place in London in 1845 and included chickens, geese, ducks, and pigeons.

The first American poultry show took place in Boston in 1849. More than 1400 birds were entered. The following year an astonishing 12,000 birds were entered! But no winners were declared either year because there was no judging guidelines. Finally, in 1874, the first American Standard of Perfection was set forth by the American Poultry Association (APA). The standard is frequently updated and still used today. Strangely, the APA only recognizes 100 breeds.

As you might imagine, folks who show chickens are every bit as obsessive and delightfully odd as those who show dogs. If you are curious, there is a wonderful documentary I saw a couple years ago called Chicken People you should watch if you get the chance. Here is the film trailer:

Chicken People Official Trailer 1 (2016) - Documentary - YouTube

My Dashwoods, who are, indeed, literary chickens, are not included in Moon’s book. My girls aren’t exotic enough, I guess. I was happy to see a couple frizzles in Moon’s book. These are not a special breed but chickens of any breed that have the “curly hair” chicken gene (Google images search “Chicken frizzle breed” to see what they look like). She also includes a couple Polish breeds (Google images “chicken Polish breed”), which I adored because who wouldn’t want a chicken with a bouffant? The farm store where I got the Dashwoods began selling black Polish chickens last year and I hope to have them in my flock someday.

Do take a look at Literary Chickens. If you keep chickens you will love the book. If you don’t keep chickens, you might get an idea why those of use who do love our birds so much.

We’re free!

My Dashwoods, if you are wondering, are doing well. The weather has been warming up above freezing these last several days and the snow and ice is beginning to melt. I spent quite a lot of time Friday and Saturday chipping all the ice off the garden path. The Dashwoods can now leave their run and splash around on the cold mud-puddly path. They are thrilled. And so am I.

Yesterday afternoon I sat on the deck stairs in the “warm” sunshine, talking with the Dashwoods as they scratched and pecked around on the garden path at my feet. They somehow managed to find a piece of lettuce that had been frozen in the snow and was now black and limp. They fought a fierce battle over it. Each one of them managed to tear off a little bite until it got small enough for Elinor to choked down the whole of it, ending the battle. Elinor was quite pleased with herself.

We are likely to get at least one more snow storm before winter is done with us. Last year we had a blizzard at the end of April. But at least it finally feels like winter will be done, that spring will not abandon us. This has lifted all our spirits, human and feathered alike.

Read Full Article
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 
So Many Books by Stefanie by Stefanie - 2M ago
Read Full Article

Read for later

Articles marked as Favorite are saved for later viewing.
close
  • Show original
  • .
  • Share
  • .
  • Favorite
  • .
  • Email
  • .
  • Add Tags 

Separate tags by commas
To access this feature, please upgrade your account.
Start your free month
Free Preview