every day is a good day
Heading out to deliver this week’s eggs to Tweets, I ran into the first casualty of this fall. Today’s wind had knocked over an alder, and it was blocking the lane. Fortunately, it was light and easy to move. It was so rotten inside, that it was just waiting for a gust of wind to push it over.
Spiders must hate foggy mornings. It makes their webs visible. There’s little chance of a bee or fly getting tangled up in a web when they sparkle like strings of diamonds.
Niji-hime 虹姫 is a mother whose path you dare not cross. She will pluck your eyes out to protect her chicks. She leads her chicks with her head held high. While I was taking these pictures, a belted kingfisher flew around high in the sky, making its loud, rattling cries. Niji-hime cocked her head, saw the noisy kingfisher, and told her chicks to be still. They froze and waited until she gave them the all clear call.
The bees have discovered an artichoke blossom. In droves they come to drink its nectar and gather its pollen. The next time you eat an artichoke, imagine how many bees would have come to feast on it if it had been left to bloom. I can imagine a worldwide movement arising, boycotting artichokes. “Don’t buy artichokes. Let them bloom and save the bees!” It could get ugly very fast. These movements have a way of spinning out of control. Restaurants would hide their artichoke dishes with lids so that their customers could savor artichokes without being yelled at. Farmers would have to truck their artichokes to market in the middle of the night. Pity the poor politician caught nibbling an artichoke. There would be no chance of them winning an election. Farmers would rush to have their artichoke farms certified bee friendly by leaving thirty percent of the artichokes on their plants to bloom. Want to make bees happy? Plant an artichoke and let it bloom.
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I’ve seen enough bees waking up on sunflowers, that it must be a bee thing. “You haven’t lived until you’ve spent a night on a sunflower,” I imagine one bee saying to another. Or, “Don’t forget to add it to your bucket list,” they might advise. For a bee, their bucket list starts early. Humans dawdle over their bucket lists for years. Most bees have one season to pack it all in.
If I was a bee, spending a day on a flowering artichoke would be high on my bucket list. So would visiting all the tomatoes that resulted from my pollination work. With my stinger, I’d carve my initials on the really big ones.
This is how we want their kennel to look.
This is how they want their kennel to look. Dogs do a great job washing dishes. Did you know dogs love pre-washing dishes? They lick them so clean, you’re tempted to put them back into the cupboard without washing or running them through the dishwasher. But, dogs are hopeless when it comes to house cleaning. The messier the better. That’s their preference.
With Bow Little Market closed for the season, this is the first Thursday in a long time that we’re at home. It was a great season. One of the treasures I picked up this summer at the market was this wool hat made by Mica Jensen of Kittynitz. I needed a new hat for winter, and this one with ear flaps is supper warm, and keeps my head dry when it is drizzling. While trying it on, I got to talk to her about her life in Germany and my ancestors from Switzerland, and how one of my great-great grandfathers, John Geiger, up and left his beautiful farm in the Jura Mountains for rural Ohio because a tavern opened nearby and he did not want his children growing up so close to drinking and dancing. Somethings people do are unforgivable. I have yet to forgive John Geiger for leaving Switzerland. If he had stayed, I might be herding cows on that beautiful pasture up in the Jura Mountains. If there had been Facebook back then, he would have seen that there is just as much drinking and dancing in Ohio, and that moving was pointless.
When you buy an article of clothing at a huge store, you have no idea who made it. There is no connection to the hands which toiled to make you that item you wear. This disconnect between the items you use every day and the people who made them for you is a recent phenomenon. Hundreds of years ago, nearly everything you wore and used was made by someone who lived nearby. You knew the person who cobbled your shoes. You probably met them every day. You knew the hands that sewed your clothes. You knew the expressions of the person who made your furniture, the laughter of the person who threw the clay pots you ate out of every day. You probably even knew the sheep who provided you the wool that kept you warm. You were reminded every day of the importance of all the people, animals, and plants around you, and how working and living together, you sustained each other.
All these connections are gone in our busy modern lives. We have no idea who bakes our bread, sews our clothes, grows our food, and many fewer chances to say “Thank you” directly to the people whose hands enrich our lives.