It's an indoors day today. Finally we are getting more seasonable weather. When we got up this morning there was snow on the ground. The temperature was in the mid thirties and it began melting as a light drizzle began to fall. Yesterday was spent taking care of fencing around the garden and today with shelving another ten boxes of books.
No, I am not going to write about the hens. And no, I am especially not going to write about our finding fourteen eggs in a newly discovered nest under our pole barn (barn makes it sound more rustic than it is).
I've used the words settle and settling a number of times in this blog and I think they can be misleading.
What got me thinking about this is that I bought a new fruit tree last week and planted it. As I was digging the hole for it and then setting it in I had the thought that I was marking this place the way a dog marks territory. I was saying that planting this tree made this place mine. Well, that's a pretty poor understanding of the reality of this place. We have five acres here and maybe one is open, the rest is woods.
This place is inhabited, more or less permanently, by newts, frogs, moles, rabbits, mice, various birds, and unknown kinds of insects and micro-organisms. It is often visited by turkeys, weasels, raccoons, bears, and deer. Many of these beings, and their ancestors, have been established here long before I "took title" to this place and will continue their use of it long after I have left.
My settling here is a pretty short term affair that is blown out of proportion by my own sense of self importance. This idea is not some original insight. What I am experiencing here is an urge to settle in a way that is not possible. I want to establish myself here and extend my idea of self to include this land and thereby believe that I am more permanent than I am. I'll just try to get comfy here and settle into not being settled.
A couple of local bits from the weekend to be noted. Saturday we had breakfast at the local grange. This is a regular thing that helps support a local food program (there's been a big increase in the need for food support out here in the past couple of years) and it turns out that the Valentine's weekend breakfast is something of an attraction, at least for a vintage Ford V-8 club in Eugene. The grange folks are very friendly and focused on the community (for scale Cheshire covers 30+ square miles and has a population of about 1100) and have a great little library. The older folks do the cooking and the kids doing the serving. Payment is purely donation. We ate with Dwayne and his wife, who were part of the car club. He farms and drives trucks and was quite friendly.
After breakfast I burned a whole lot of yard debris hearing all sorts of gunfire, some of it obviously automatic. There was a "3D Shoot" about a mile from here. I don't think I want to know much about a 3-D Shoot. They did keep going all weekend. The big spreads in the Sunday paper ads for sporting goods are for guns and ammo.
Just finishing things up the next morning (it's Wednesday) as I had to go into Eugene last evening for what has become a regular Tuesday evening trip to Eugene Zendo. Right now there's a heavy wet snow fall. It's in the low thirties, so I don't expect it to stick, but it sure looks beautiful. If it keeps up it will be a wonderful walk to get our newspaper.
Last note: it's clear and sunny! Impermanence!
drive
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Hens and Chainsaws
We've got a real nice hen house here with a dandy roost and five nifty nesting boxes each lined with soft wood shavings. It's an comfy place for them to lay their eggs and that's pretty much what they've done up until now. They've tended to favor a couple of the nesting boxes and have been noted to lay their eggs on the house floor, but that's all. Until now, that is.
The shop here is an enclosed space in the pole barn and outside the shop are shelves with all sorts of tools and gear stored. It's a covered but open area. On the bottom shelf are our two chainsaws. It's a hard shelf, something you just wouldn't want to sit on. But hens are strange birds and for no good reason two of the hens have decided that that shelf and between the two saws is where they want to lay their eggs. I have to admit it, they just don't think the way I do about a good place to lay eggs.
There may be a reason they do this: when out during the day they like to hang out under the shop and it's a closer place to lay than a trip back to the hen house.
You may think I'm a bit obsessed with these hens and it's true that I find them fascinating, but there's more to it than that. There's a lot less going on out here, fewer distractions and action. So things like the hens, our cat, the birds, and the newts in the pond are more noticed. Even the constant activity of the moles, it all stands out more clearly. So if you're not trying to do too much all the time it's a lot easier to see what's in front of you. And sometimes it's amusing as all get out.
The shop here is an enclosed space in the pole barn and outside the shop are shelves with all sorts of tools and gear stored. It's a covered but open area. On the bottom shelf are our two chainsaws. It's a hard shelf, something you just wouldn't want to sit on. But hens are strange birds and for no good reason two of the hens have decided that that shelf and between the two saws is where they want to lay their eggs. I have to admit it, they just don't think the way I do about a good place to lay eggs.
There may be a reason they do this: when out during the day they like to hang out under the shop and it's a closer place to lay than a trip back to the hen house.
You may think I'm a bit obsessed with these hens and it's true that I find them fascinating, but there's more to it than that. There's a lot less going on out here, fewer distractions and action. So things like the hens, our cat, the birds, and the newts in the pond are more noticed. Even the constant activity of the moles, it all stands out more clearly. So if you're not trying to do too much all the time it's a lot easier to see what's in front of you. And sometimes it's amusing as all get out.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
A Flat Tire
It's a clear and cold winter morning. The sun is peeking through the trees, the hens are huddled under the shop, and wood shop kitty is still out on her evening jaunts.
Tuesday was one of those days we set aside for a trip to town for shopping and other things, as it's 25 miles each way we try to minimize the number of trips and maximize what we accomplish. Yesterday it was to get Catherine a haircut, get our driver's licenses, check out a second hand store, buy groceries, take some things to a friend of Catherine, and go to the Eugene Zendo for an evening program. All went well until we were on our way to Martha, Catherine's friend. We ended up on a street that didn't go anywhere and I made a last minute turn, but too soon and over the curb we went. I said "that's how you can mess up a tire." Catherine said "well, everything seems fine." A block later it was apparent that things weren't so fine and sure enough the right front tire was going down. Catherine's prepaid cell phone and AAA came to the rescue (it was dark and I didn't feel like changing a tire in the dark and I thought the spare may not be fully inflated). A cheerful fellow later pulled up in his truck, got the spare up to pressure and had us in business. We then got to Martha's and gave her her things and realized it was too late to get to the zendo and we still hadn't eaten. I was also concerned about the 25 mile trip back home and another long trip to get a new tire. Martha mentioned that there was a Les Schwab not far from her. We drove off and pulled in to Les Scwab, but the doors were locked and the sign said they closed at 6. There were, however, the folks who worked there finishing things up from the day. One of them poked her head out the door and we told her our predicament. Their response was pure zen practice: say yes and step forward. Before we knew it we had a replacemnent tire and were on our way.
So here we had an experience that seemed bad, had messed up our plans, and was simply one I did not like. But this experience led us into receiving the warm generosity of these people. Yes, they get paid to do it, but the AAA fellow didn't have to be so warm and friendly and the Les Schwab folks didn't have to open their doors and none of them had to do it with such generous spirits. So much for cynicism. Both Catherine and I pulled into a Pizza Hut, had a pizza, and felt so good the way this all turned out. It was worth a flat tire to have had this experience of other people.
Tuesday was one of those days we set aside for a trip to town for shopping and other things, as it's 25 miles each way we try to minimize the number of trips and maximize what we accomplish. Yesterday it was to get Catherine a haircut, get our driver's licenses, check out a second hand store, buy groceries, take some things to a friend of Catherine, and go to the Eugene Zendo for an evening program. All went well until we were on our way to Martha, Catherine's friend. We ended up on a street that didn't go anywhere and I made a last minute turn, but too soon and over the curb we went. I said "that's how you can mess up a tire." Catherine said "well, everything seems fine." A block later it was apparent that things weren't so fine and sure enough the right front tire was going down. Catherine's prepaid cell phone and AAA came to the rescue (it was dark and I didn't feel like changing a tire in the dark and I thought the spare may not be fully inflated). A cheerful fellow later pulled up in his truck, got the spare up to pressure and had us in business. We then got to Martha's and gave her her things and realized it was too late to get to the zendo and we still hadn't eaten. I was also concerned about the 25 mile trip back home and another long trip to get a new tire. Martha mentioned that there was a Les Schwab not far from her. We drove off and pulled in to Les Scwab, but the doors were locked and the sign said they closed at 6. There were, however, the folks who worked there finishing things up from the day. One of them poked her head out the door and we told her our predicament. Their response was pure zen practice: say yes and step forward. Before we knew it we had a replacemnent tire and were on our way.
So here we had an experience that seemed bad, had messed up our plans, and was simply one I did not like. But this experience led us into receiving the warm generosity of these people. Yes, they get paid to do it, but the AAA fellow didn't have to be so warm and friendly and the Les Schwab folks didn't have to open their doors and none of them had to do it with such generous spirits. So much for cynicism. Both Catherine and I pulled into a Pizza Hut, had a pizza, and felt so good the way this all turned out. It was worth a flat tire to have had this experience of other people.
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