Skip to main content

notes from the bunker - Mayberry Lost

  In silence the grey steel hatch slowly swung up. There was a bit of rust but no squeak as the hand on the, wheel like, 'dog' pushed into the morning air. It had rained and the air was fresh and cool. "That smells good", thought our intrepid prepper. As he rose out of the hatch he could hear the faint sounds of a vehicle far off on the county road. The silence was further disturbed by the Fee-beee, Fee-beee of a chickadee proclaiming his territory. It was the greenness though that overwhelmed him as he twisted and stretched unused muscles.
 Ah look, the apple tree has ripe fruit on it. I'll pick some he thought and load them into the old truck to sell at the farmers market. The market was opening he'd heard on the CB radio. Ewww the truck, he'd have to attach back up the battery and check that brake fluid that had been low back when he had sheltered in. He smiled as he thought about the bumper sticker he'd put on the truck and sell at his little stand with the apples.
    " Oh Lord just give me one more quarantine
            and I promise I won't piss it away"

Yeah that's the way it always starts in those Sci-Fi books. Now mind you it's a Sunday morning as I write and it did rain last night, so it is rather quiet and green outside my window. So, perhaps the chickadee is real but the apples on the tree was a bit of a literary stretch. I do have an apple tree, mind you. It and it's sisters are about the length of my little finger. So let's give it a few years before I count on fruit (and oh yeah it's May not August, so fruit - really Doug!)
 From Edan till today apple trees are always a good place to start. First however Cooper needs his walk, there's half a pile of wood chips that need to get spread before the day heats up and it doesn't look like Deb is going to make me those blueberry pancakes I ordered up. (I think I actually heard her eyes roll when I told her a good wife would make 'em!) So, a bit to do and I'll be right back.

  I think I told you about my little Albert Etter Pink Pearl apple tree that I had planted a couple of years back. Pink Pearl was a variety Mr Etter had breed back in the late 1800s in his orchards in California. It's fruit was a translucent skinned, red fleshed apple that in the pictures I saw was a real beauty. It was considered more of an apple for baking than fresh eating. More beauty over flavor.
 Long story short it died. My desire to have a unique apple tree certainly didn't. Stark Bros and a host of other nurseries carry most of the common varieties you can buy and taste in the store, and that's good. It is hard to invest the growing time in a fruit tree with only a catalog description of what the apple will actually taste like. If you've got a hundred acre orchard - sure, easy to take a flyer on a variety. Apples, do vary tho' in flavor and if you're only growing one that is a big bet. The Pink Pearl had enticed me to give it a try purely on the uniqueness of it's red flesh.
 After losing the Pink Pearl I learned that my niece would be going on a church mission. Part of her trip would land her in Kazakhstan, birthplace of the modern apple. I asked her to get me some apple seeds. I figured there had to be some interesting apples piled up in some little backwater market stand. Some tree known only to the grower with lineage right back to Eden. Plus throw in a story about "Oh yeah, my niece got me the seed for that tree on her trip to Kazakhstan" and even a so so apple would have cache. Well, a nasty little pandemic started circling the world about the same time as my niece. She got back safely but never touch down in Kazakhstan. My dream of a unique apple tree stayed on hold.
  Meanwhile, just up the street Vitamin Cottage (the local health food store) got it in their heads to bring in for a brief visit a large variety of heirloom organic apples. Names I'd seen described in catalogs and articles. Names like Ananas Reinette, Cox Orange Pippin, Orleans - Wait go back one, Cox Orange Pippin, yeah that one. I'd come within a hare's breath of buying that one from Stark Bros. I'd shifted directions and gone for the Albert Etter mystique over a catalog described but unknown flavor.  A half dozen little brown bags and my own little apple tasting session later. I was standing in my kitchen holding a core and extolling to Deb what an outstanding apple I'd just eaten. Not a big apple and russeted to an extent that it would likely get passed over sitting next to a display of Galas or Macintosh, but man what a flavor. Stark Bros was going to get an order in the morning. Heck I was tossing this core in the compost and placing the order right now! Yeah well you likely guessed it the cheap old Scotchman in me saw that core and realized those are seeds, plant 'em!
 I've read enough about apples to realize that growing from seed is at best a crapshoot. Virtually all apples you see and buy are grown on grafted trees. Nurseries use a known and strong rootstock and graft a scion (branch from an existing tree of a known variety), essentially the old tree is cloned. Here I had a handful of seeds with their pollen source unknown added to whatever natural variability the other half of the DNA had hidden in it. But the seeds got planted and with our warm spring virtually everyone has sprouted in the garden. I'm not simply cheap, I have a gardeners heart. If you sprout in my garden I'll figure out how to work my garden plan around you're growing. So, I did transplant 'em from the horrible spot they were started but I guess I'm once again growing an apple tree.

 "Everyone has a plan till they get punched in the mouth". Mike Tyson elevated himself from pugilist to poet with this keen insight into the changing nature of life in this world. He's not known for a lot of other quotes but this one certainly hits these 'interesting times'.
  Long before I began this blog I was keeping a garden journal. It was a suggestion from about every book, article, and blog on gardening. It was purported to have a variety of purposes. Mostly though I wrote it with some vague belief that it would be a resource to aid the future gardener, me. I created both a daily written log and a reference map of sorts. Honestly, I rarely referred to the map and almost never to the log.
 Sure, when spending a bored winter day planning and dreaming of the next great garden I pull it out. But as a reference guide I pretty quickly have to throw it to the side with the recognition that the 'facts' recorded weren't always the facts in the literal ground. See quite often I'll plant something and it just doesn't make it. In it's place something else gets put and the garden reality moves along leaving behind a rather poor official record.
 This year I tried to at least fix the factual nature of the 'map' by splitting it into two pieces, a planning map and an actual map. The plan allows me to wile away winter days comparing suggestions of various companion plants and a host of other thoughts on which beds would best grow which veggies. Planning is good. It forces you to think and it's pleasant. The actual map will, I hope, tell me what I planted where. Still this won't give me a good record of how the plant actually produced or if it died and was replaced with some thing else or hail hit or.... Mother Nature can throw haymakers, and she's always throwing you little jabs. She's not being mean just doing her job. Thanks for planning now duck, adapt, or die.

 This year's adaptation in the garden seems to be an early spring. Slowly warming soil of spring but still spring.  So the snows of my last blog were mixed with fairly normal freezes and the odd 80° day. I still am not sure if the nectarine tree survived this confusion having bloomed and started to leave out only to freeze three times. I saw two little pink blooms the other day but it still looks rough and the blooms could have been a death throe or maybe there will be nectarines - we'll see.   Just as confusing while I was spreading wood chips this morning I saw a squash that had sprouted on it's own. Now the bed it was in was intended to be planted out with Butternut squash and that could be what it is, but it just showed up in some random compost. I didn't plant it. More to the point I was planning to start my squash tomorrow, indoors. It's four weeks before I would plant out my squash. Squash and most veggies seem to rely more on soil temperature and compost heats things up where as fruit trees seem to be more sensitive to ambient temperature. My planning tends to look more at the calendar with Mothers Day being our average last freeze. Should I just be thankful for the extra space in the sunroom and start jamming seeds in the bed. Heck an extra 4 weeks of a growing season would be great but the plan says otherwise, so...?

 Lakewood the city I live in is a city by legal designation but a suburb in reality. These last two months my little piece of this 'burb has done a pretty good imitation of that little fictional city of Mayberry. Gardening and dog walking have, for most of the time I've lived here, been preoccupations of myself and a very few others. Now everyone has the toddlers in a little red wagon with husband and wife walking the dogs. More gardens have been spruced up and been created than I've ever seen. Perhaps most noticeable very few cars and if a car drives by they actually wave back. If you go back to Robert Moses and the other earliest creators of suburbs this pleasing two months is what they planned for and expected of suburbs. A great place to raise the kids and a family life of clean air, friends and a little garden out back. Suburbs too often were quite the opposite of the plan. A place where you drove into the garage, ignored your neighbors, ordered take-out and dropped the bored teenagers at the mall or let 'em go smoke pot and drink in some, little hidden from adults, spot. Thus these last two months have in some very real ways, for me, been an Eden.
 Now I'm a heathen so I don't think the pandemic was the work of some plan by demons in an underworld ala Milton's Paradise Lost. Very real humans have however quite likely had a hand in both exploiting and perhaps creating this virus. I have to stop there for a moment and say that in my last blog that I put the blame on China for this virus. I was unsure if it was a 'natural' creation in an unsanitary meat market or a laboratory creation, but China.
  I have changed my mind. I've changed it in two ways because of this article from Newsweek and a number of derivative reports. If this article is correct Dr Fauci and the US government funded a portion of the research of the Wuhan Chinese government lab to specifically 'study'/create enhanced Corona viruses. That is pretty demonic! Yeah I know they had a plan. This was going to be used to prepare us all in case Mother Nature did something stupid and unlikely - like creating this virus. Thing is they forgot to do half the work. Yeah they did the fun stuff that earns them the big bucks and accolades they did the research and wrote the papers but didn't make the public safe. No stockpile of masks and respirators big enough to fit the need, just wash your hands and shut down the economy. Poor planning or evil hmmm!
 I have been noting, as I've written and offered links, of the other earthly planners who had likely no hand in creating the problem but are actively using it for their own purposes. Civil Liberties to these people are simply an inconvenience to their profit and power. You can go to Walmart but not church. Your Right to travel is not simply impeded but tracked via your phone. Open records and meetings are closed while literal trillions of dollars are created and distributed, dollars that you owe.
 I like Mayberry. I liked every single show in each of the series and it's spin-offs. It offered an aspirational view of a world that we should reach for. I worry that as we leave the Mayberry period of this crisis not simply will the traffic increase and the waves decrease with the gardens and little red wagons. I worry that "for the public good" our Bill of Rights will be left shredded and our currency and economy will be whatever is worse than shredded. All that is left for you and I is to make a plan should that come to pass.
  Chris Martenson has long spoken of 8 types of capital and the importance of each type to survive tough times. He talks about things like your health capital. This blog is titled and about small gardens and small governments as such I keep my focus mostly within a small portion of those 8 types of capital. One I rarely if ever have touched upon is financial capital. If you believe as I do that the wild printing of currency endangers your financial health trade your currency for money (and yeah there is a difference!). Do it soon. This is the fellow I use. He writes a fairly technical blog (and the subscription is free) but I use him because his history shows him as a man of principle and character and he is good to his word and expects the same.
  Unless you believe this is the literal end, we are it would seem doomed to plan for the future. Part of that future, I hope, will be much smaller government. Government too small to trample your Rights or endanger your finances.  That hope sprouted a small seed this week as Justin Amash announced he was seeking the Libertarian Party's nomination for President. Mr Amash is a sitting Congressman from Michigan (and now the 1st sitting Libertarian in Congress) and will likely bring to the race the much greater possibility of voters hearing the ideas of small government. Will he win? Honestly, it's a tiny tree, it will need to grow for a bit before it bears fruit. Winning would be anything which brings that future closer. I hope he'll earn your vote and support.  
Plant an apple tree and show your hope for a future. Plant a garden for right now. Doug A.

Comments

  1. Love to read your stuff, Doug. It's not the end, but it for sure is a diminishing of some of our liberties, compliments of the governments of the world. Blame could be rightfully placed on the WHO who declared it a pandemic and suggested the only way to stop it would be to lock ourselves up. Who is WHO? Well, seems the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation is like the main financial supporter! Well, enough said! My vote will once again be for the Libertarian! I have voted Libertarian for the last few elections!!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A thought in two parts

  BeauSoleil is tapping out a fast paced rhythm. Buckwheat Zydeco and The Cajun Allstars will join in for a day of Cajun music to match the temperature. It's odd on a hot and humid day to hear such lively upbeat music. My only logic I can put to it is you don't pick up the fiddle or go to the Fais do-do till the work is done and the evening cool lets you cut loose.   Along that line of thought goes the 'garden'. An odd moment early in the morning or following an afternoon thunderstorm allows me to keep up with the general maintenance of a suburban yard, lawn and such. To really cut loose and garden will have to wait till the temperatures cools in the fall. I'm simply not acclimated yet. I have however started.   Nothing grand mind you but a start. Couple of days ago I finished mowing the lawn put the mower on the lowest setting and scalped a 35' x 7' section. With the thick black plastic pinned down on it, the hope is to use a bit of judo. The heat of July

Taste like cucumber

I've got to start us off with Waylon Jennings' classic.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kxll2-th4Gc Deb and I went down to our cabin in the mountains for the Memorial weekend.  More exactly we went down to our tiny RV on the property next to the cabin.  The cabin floor is close to finished and thus the bed and all are stuffed in the bathroom awaiting warm weather and the final coat of shellac.  A 20' RV two adults and two dogs makes for close quarters, especially when it starts raining.  That said there is something quite wonderful about playing rummy 500 by lantern light with Deb.  It's way too easy in a marriage to get to plinking along in your little path and forget how nice it is to have a wife you love. I suggested to Deb that although the RV is getting on 40 years old we could probably get a pretty penny for it if we marketed it as a marital therapy tool.  (therapy dogs extra!)   Being a gardener I have sprinkled some seeds as the cabin has started coming toget

Winter

 Just came in from digging the kitchen scraps into the latest raised bed. The soil is essentially non-existent merely a fill of leaves, a tiny amount of grass clippings, and some wonderful chicken coop material Deb's sister had saved aside for me. The chicken poop has already started heating the pile after watering it yesterday. All very hopeful, that it might burn down into something plant-able by spring. Adding to the hope a light drizzle has begun with rain expected through the afternoon and evening. Yeah I know chicken poop and compost are kinda out there on the garden nerd spectrum.   The rain is the perfect accompaniment to the blues on the stereo. The weather outside gray and more invigorating than cold. Inside a mug of tea and a combo of Fats Waller, Howlin' Wolf and best of all the Alligator Records' 20th Anniversary Collection. The enclosed notes in the Alligator two CD edition are the story of legends of the blues. The talent list is a powerhouse going from Pinet

The tomatoes are red the gardener is blue

 I'm stuck in a loop. I think that's what software programmers call it. I know the roots of this hopelessness are firmly planted in the utter destruction of our cabin and property in the forest fire that I alluded to in the last blog's prologue. Knowing the source of a polluted stream doesn't really help if your just wallowing in it. It's the wallowing that is the loop. A sporadic series of should haves and could haves that leave you so second guessed out that I've got little mental energy to accomplish all but the littlest things. Musically speaking I got da blues!   The music is Billie Holiday - Lady in Autumn.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Npoe5XeeMYE&list=PLbYb5_Imn1rsDMoIU38jxi_O0aRaYj4CG 'cause given my mood - well, it was the obvious choice.   If you're a libertarian like me it's hard not to on occasion reflect on a woman who's life included heroin abuse, alcohol abuse, abusive relationships and died at 44. The line between libert

Enchanted

 I've been trying to force this blog out for awhile, unsuccessfully. Deb's off visiting her sister, my chores are close enough to done, and rain is threatening, giving me pause to start the ones that remain. Thus I was a moment ago sitting enjoying a sweet sun tea, listening to some Bluegrass and finishing an article. I had put the Telluride Bluegrass Cd on the stereo last night while reading. Both the CD and the article on my phone were left over from last night. Inspiration struck, I refilled the tea switched the stereo to Stevie Nicks and pulled out the laptop. Pop, fizzle, nada, just a blank screen and an equally blank brain. We'll blame Stevie!  The Stevie Nicks book (that seems to be what she is calling it?) is a neatly packaged box set of 3 CDs, art and photos called ENCHANTED . It was an impressive buy for a dollar at a library sale some years back. Kind of the equivalent of finding a good Dali print at the thrift store. The memory of the thrill of the 'hunt&#

Bleeping grackles

 I've just spent the last 15 minutes searching bird guides on-line and on paper to try to figure out what is nesting in the grape arbor.  It looks like a nuthatch or wren that has dressed to go to work for UPS.  It's incredibly tiny and quite cute but clearly not one to be pushed around.  When I first saw it at the beginning of summer it was trying to take over a bird house I had created out of an old boot.  Some chickadees had moved in and I was thrilled to see the house used.  The chickadees had dutifully carried a boots worth of material from the yard to their nest.  At a moment when both the male and female were out collecting material my little UPS bird 'discovered' the boot.  He sat at the hole pulling material out.  Clearly their tastes in furnishings were different you could almost see him (her?) shaking his head "this straw with those drapes - come on!".  The chickadees returned and a battle royal ensued with it ending with two chickadees (which are b

Peek a boo

  I'm hiding out! Ensconced in my mom's old comfy chair. Bag of pretzels and glass of water on the drum table to my side. Stereo playing a collection of familiar old jazz or at least that was the intention as I've managed to start the group off with THE BEST OF Sessions at west 54th. The 'Sessions' is a compilation from the PBS show of the same name. The artists are all class A the songs and the music as good as you could ask for. Like many compilations it's a bit uneven jumping from Sheryl Crow and Natalie Merchant to the Mavericks and Elvis Costello but that is not the fundamental problem. I want to hide out. Getz, Coltrane, Chet Baker deep jazz to get lost in, comfortable, old, smooth.   Too many good artist on the 'Sessions' to bump the stack to the next CD. I'll fluff the pillow behind my back, add ice to the water, and get rid of the damned pretzels. (Lord I can grind through them mindlessly!) In short I'll adjust and try to find the peac

Hopes on third

   Just back from this year's frosty final farmers market. Johnny Cash and Chris LeDoux, are stacked up on the stereo with Dwight Yoakam twanging as I type. A cool and cloudy day outside. Way too much Halloween candy 'hidden' in the next room. The boys of October will be finishing their seasons with the World Series. The garden will stretch out a bit longer with all thoughts of too hot to work outside banished to the past. Our 1st winter lies ahead.  It's October in Oklahoma.  Our haul from the farmers market was an eclectic mix. Way too large a bag of hot peppers from a fellow selling honey. He clearly wanted to get home and gave us the whole lot for 2 bucks. A pretty little bench of local cedar from Curtis who was staying warm in his truck. Curtis is one of those interesting artisans that you see at farmers markets. Some of his pieces are not quite the thing and some well, catch your eye just right. Cooper was thrilled to see we didn't forget him with a knee bon

Weeding watching wondering

  No music to lubricate the keyboard as I type this blog. Last night Deb and I listened late into the night (mighta been 10 - 10:30!) to a compilation called REBORN TO RUN the 35th anniversary of mustang (Which I could find no information on but here is a good snip from it. ) Along with some Eagles and Allman Brothers, we were a couple of giddy kids. It really doesn't matter how old you actually are when you hear music from your 'time', you return to that time. Harsh reality is back then I wouldn't have known how to talk to a hot girl like Deb. Heck - didn't know how to talk to any girl. So the music was great but it's good not to delude yourself. The Buddhist say there are two realities. Reality as you perceive it and reality as it is. Confusing the two and you're liable to pull a muscle or something. 'cides I'm liking living in this moment. I got the girl!   Couple of days ago was up before the heat weeding the local Bermuda grass out of a front pl

The price of free

I came in when I heard the thunder but was intentionally not going to write.  Couldn't live up to that commitment when Pryor Baird & the Deacons started playing Little Red Wagon. I can't find a YouTube link so I'm substituting with  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEmvBdRLg4k  and I'll leave you to find this driving rhythm.  If you're thinking I've heard Little Red Wagon done by___.  Yeah everybody done it.  Some versions are so slow and deep delta bluesish that you gotta figure heroin was on the menu.  This is I think you'd call it more Chicago blues with a staccato driving beat. No matter what you call it my hands started slapping the desk and that led to slapping this keyboard. For some technical reason beyond my imagination the stereo has flipped past the rest of the CD and gone on to John Mayall Plays John Mayall.  It's John Mayall so I'm not going to argue.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3BK8-Mmn1s&list=PL94gOvpr5yt2BTHyFMsHRkvcce0XI