small gardens & small government

  In the forward to his book TALKING TO THE MOON, John Joseph Mathews' widow describes the book as his Walden. I wouldn't know as every time I tried to read Walden I gave up. Too dense, too deep, too flowery and poetic to read. Perhaps I'll have to try again as this morning I finished Mathews' book about the Osage. At about 5 this morning alone in the family room reading the penultimate chapter, I got it. Mathews had made me struggle for literal weeks on end through enough renewals that I was sure the library was going to say - no more! I struggled both because there were bits of prose that were inspired but also out of a sense of duty. You should know about where you live. A native seed sprouts when the time is right. I've transplanted myself to NE Oklahoma, the Osage, and thus have to dig a hole for my roots. With a little nurturing and time I'll grow beyond that hole.   I thought it appropriate that I "got it" and finished as a storm wa...

    There is a fog outside with something approaching rain falling. The soft gauzie nature of fog makes the world quiet, mysterious and beautiful. I'll take the dogs in a bit on our morning walk and enjoy that beauty but first to write. It's odd but I didn't notice either the rain or the fog till the sun was solidly up and Deb pointed it out. I was instead thinking how it gets dark so early and the sun rises so late. I lamented, how could it be that moving almost a whole garden zone closer to the equator and away from the towering Rockies to the west the sun could rise so late? Ah fog, hadn't thought of that!   Ain't that life! There you are plumbing the deepest mysteries only to realize you forgot to carry the 1. While sipping my coffee and contemplating the darkness YouTube granted some distraction by offering up a Buddhist philosophy video. Sadly, it was likely AI generated, as so much of the content is these days. I was only half listening but in about the 4th r...