The Collapse LII: Seasons

December 07 20XX

My Dear Lucilius:

It has been snowing here almost incessantly: deep, fat flakes that continue to fall from the sky, leaving everything covered in a thick white shroud. It rounds off the edges of all things and leaves them a soft, white, formless blanket.

Lovely to look at. Less lovely to have to deal with, of course.

I have had to do all the normal chores, of course: check on the quail (thus the ropes I string between the house and the greenhouse). Occasionally pull the snow down off the roof to prevent an eventual collapse. Bring wood inside for the fire.

And watch the snow fall from the sky.

The snow quiets everything. It always has; I have no idea why. I suppose if I desired a rational reason it would be something about the muffling effect the snow has on ambient noise, how it cuts down on outside activity overall - after all, who or what in their right mind goes out in a snow storm?

I am sure there is a scientific reason grounded in fact. I prefer to believe it is some inherent magical quality of the snow.

The sky has a different cast to it when it truly snows. I cannot define it for you any more than I can define the cast of the sun at the moment that Autumn arrives: it is nothing I can evoke in words, it is just something that I realize almost instinctively.

Being here, having fled the world of work some years ago, I have developed an appreciation for the seasons that I did not already have. During my years of corporate labor, the seasons and weather were something to endure: commuting in darkness or almost darkness made the sunrise and sunset sources of light to gauge if I needed to use my car’s headlamps, working inside all day made the summer heat or winter cold irrelevant except as a backdrop when entering and leaving the building.

But here, now, living as I have these last years, gives one a greater appreciation for the seasons. The arrival of the seasons is present far earlier than most can sense it if only one will pay attention. Here especially, with our relatively short summer months, one waits with baited breath for the moment that Spring planting can begin and sighs with inner defeat when Winter arrives more quickly than anticipated. The sunrises and sunsets increase and decrease with the year; if one lives by its light (instead of that of the power lines) one comes to appreciate even one additional minute.

The interesting thing to me is that once upon a timeit was only those that cared about the seasons for their livelihood – farmers, ranchers – and those that had the time and leisure to do so – the retired, the unemployed, those that sought such knowledge – who really noticed such things. Now, suddenly, we are all involved in the Great Dance of Equinoxes and Solstices, of the waxing and waning of the moon, of the Coming of Spring and the Departure of Summer. Before it was just a hobby or perhaps an adjunct to a career; now it has become something by which life or death may be decided.

If we are not careful, if this becomes a long tern way of life and we do not rebuild, will we not become as our ancestors, gathering before rocks thrust up at the sky like angry fists as our shamans and priests tell us that the Great Cold Season will soon be passing?

The snow continues to fall from the sky. Are the flakes more fat in December than in February? I never really thought about it before. Now, I certainly have the time to consider it all in great detail.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

Book Review: Gardening With Less Water

At the recommendation of my friend Leigh over at Five Acres and A Dream, I bought the book Gardening with Less Water by David A. Bainbridge.  She was very enthusiastic about the book and she knows her stuff.

My experience with gardening has only been in two climates.  The first - Old Home - was a typical "Mediterranean"  or "Monsoon" climate, where the bulk of the rains came once a year (Late October to early April, typically), followed by 6 months of no rain.  The second - New Home - can see rain throughout the year, including summer - or maybe not, just depending on the year.  In either case, the ability to manage water matters:  we pay for our water, so I need to get value out of it, and in both places we have lived through drouthy years, where water was limited.

The great thing about this book is it simply, practical solutions.  The author - who has done many years of work in this area here and throughout the world - takes the simplest, low tech solution to watering and goes from there.

The simplest solution - I do not think I am revealing any true secrets here - is the common unglazed clay pot, its bottom hole sealed, buried in the garden with the plants it supports around it, covered with the pot base.  The plants use the water as they need it; the gardener (you or me) fills the pot, not the entire garden.  As a side note, weeds are greatly reduced as there is no water to feed them.  I suspect another outcome would that some pests are reduced (slugs and snails for example), as there are not nearly the moisture laden humus for them to hide in.

But this is the most basic solution.  Bainbridge also has suggestions and drawings for automatically filling these pots with tubing from a single source, sealing and burying pots and then filling them with a distribution system (Porous Capsules), Deep Pipes (PVC pipe with holes drilled next to a perennial to tree to get them started), Wicks, Porous Hoses (buried and unburied), Clay Piping (using the same principle as the clay pots) and tree shelters (to protect trees from sun and wind loss of moisture).  His descriptions are clean, his pictures and drawings are quite clear, and it is apparent this is something that has been successfully used and can be easily accomplished by an individual with a minimum of gardening skills to start.

The second half of the book - Taking It To The Next Level - covers more extreme measures:  Rainwater Harvesting, landscaping to maximize use of the environment to preserve water, and some potential layouts of gardens and farms to maximize water usage. It is all equally as clear, although probably beyond the scope of anything I could or would do at this time.  He also has some interesting comments on older civilizations (The Nabateans at Petra and the Anasazi at Mesa Verde) who built thrived in the midst of limited water by ingenious usage of harvesting and targeted watering (I wish the author had spent more time on these.  Ah well, a subject worthy of further research).

Frankly, I enjoyed the book.  It is clear, well written, and the initial steps he recommends are things I could go out and do tomorrow with minimal cost.  I intend to at least try the concept of clay pots in next year's spring and summer garden.  He also (very correctly) calls out the rather foolish policy of Utah and Colorado that bans rainwater harvesting.

Of course, like any author, there are things I disagree with as well.  He only sees solutions in terms of government action:  cities or states offering rebates to perform things like changing to xeriscaping, promoting rainwater harvesting, etc. (that money has to come from somewhere and it is not the government that makes it).  He also extends this to globally enacted solutions, something which (to my mind) seldom produces the results that are intended.

But those points are minor in comparison to the knowledge offered in the book - practical knowledge from a man who has done this and experimented with the concepts for years.  It is between $10 and $14 online and well worth the price for practical solutions to improve one's gardening and reduces one's water usage and cost of water.

The Plague of 2020: A Travel Update

Having traveled a bit via air over the last two months and looking at continuing to do so over the upcoming months, I thought I might give you an update on what the proverbial lay of the land (or air, in this case) looks like.  

For background:  my travels are between two "International" airports (so named because non-U.S. flights land at them - but not a lot of them) of similar sized urban areas.  Both are within 1 to 3 hours of actual international airports; thus, they are as much transit points for other destinations as they are actual terminal destinations (to be fair, New Home could be considered a terminal destination).  I fly on Saturdays as that is the least expensive day and allows me to preserve the work week.  I also fly on Southwest, which is by far the most reasonable airline for such travel.

(A note:  Yes, I know that not everyone is a fan of Southwest.  For me, they provide a reasonable service for the price they charge.  Also, given the current environment I suspect that they will be one of the airlines that will at least be able to operate the longest given their business model.  And, I actually do kind of like their snacks).

The airports - both coming and going - were only slightly more busy than they were in July.  In all checking in and going through security took 15 minutes or so.  Interestingly, at both airports there are only a few airlines flying:  At New Home Airport it is Southwest, Alaska, and American and at Old Home Airport it is Southwest, Spirit, and Delta.  

The airport terminals post-security are 50 to 75% closed down in terms of commercial offerings.  A few restaurants are open (I have no idea how they determine which ones) and those small shops which offer both magazines and highly over priced snacks as well (but again, not all of them).  Anything resembling just an actual store is closed.  People are spacing themselves out amongst the chairs.

In terms of actual flying, the middle seat is still verboten for sitting (which works for me, of course).  Cloth masks remain required for all flights but masks with vent filters are now not allowed on flights.  I also started to see face shields being worn by several passengers (I am hoping this does not become a requirement).  In-flight service has been reduced to a snack pack and water (instead of the previously delightful snack pack and your choice of drink).  You can bring any food and drink purchased in the terminal onto the flight you want - with the exception, oddly enough, of alcohol (because apparently alcohol purchased on the flight does not have the same impact as alcohol purchased off the flight).

Getting picked up at the airport remains completely different than pre-Plague:  The lack of traffic makes it a 5 minute operation, not a 20 minute one.

The one outstanding question I have (in general) is how these airports are continuing to be going concerns.  I am not quite sure how they are funded, but the air travel is not near what I saw in February when I traveled to Japan.  I am sure they are doing a little better now, but if this level of travel remains as it is I cannot see that smaller regional airports and perhaps even some larger ones will be able to stay open.

Working From Afar: An Update

All - As you may have guessed from my post on Wednesday, last week I spent from The Ranch.

I did not announce to my work that I was going (other than I had clearance from my manager to do so) as I wanted to give it a test run and demonstrate to them that this was a thing that could be done without any interruption in my ability to work or do my job.

How did it go?  Great!  There was absolutely no interruption of service.  I responded to e-mails.  I was on teleconference calls.  I even took calls on my cell phone (turns out you can do that if you set your phone to WiFi).  I will check with my manager to see if he noticed any difference in my performance.  If not, I think the point is made.

(Also found out this week a coworker in my new department is leaving, so my value goes up a bit.  This is also a helpful development.

It is really not all that inconvenient of a schedule either.  I essentially go to bed and get up and the same time as when I do at home to keep my work schedule.  It leaves me a little more time after work with sunlight - hopefully over time, this can become time to invest in some kind of project.

So Step One:  Done.  September Trip is already scheduled.

Here we go.

Book Review: How Should We Then Live?

What C.S. Lewis was to apologetics from the 1940's to the 1960's, Francis Schaeffer  (1912-1984) was from the 1960's to the 1980's.  Lewis, a professor of literature and author, wrote to a generation that was not quite post-Christian but culturally Christian; Schaeffer wrote to two generations:  one that had become post-Christian and one that was trying to understand the great upheaval that had taken place and the impacts that it would have for years to come.

How Should We Then Live? is Schaeffer's review of the history of Western Thought and Civilization as seen in its theology, its art, and its philosophy and science.  I know what you are thinking:  that sounds like a lot of ground to cover and is probably pretty boring.  Quite to the contrary:  Schaeffer is a lively writer and able to discuss such weighty topics with an ease that makes it rather easy to understand (One of his earlier works, Escape From Reason, discusses the same material at an even easier level.  Descent of Western Civilization in less than 100 pages.  And quite comprehensible.). 

Schaeffer's primary break point is Thomas Aquinas, who separated Grace from Nature and thus cut loose the concept of universals from particulars.  Like most things, the change was infinitesimally small at the time, but caused a wider and wider divergence within Western Christianity between God and Man.  From the breakdown in God and Nature, the came the division between Universals and Particulars, which then led to the division between Autonomous Freedom and Autonomous Nature, which then lead to the division between the Noumenal World (Concepts of meaning and value) and the Phenomenal World (The world which can be weighed and measured), which led to the division between Non-Reason (Faith and Optimism) and Reason (Pessimism). This final breakdown is the post Christian modern world, which tries to find faith and optimism in Reason but has no absolutes to base them in - as Schaeffer says, "If there are not absolutes by which to judge society, then society is absolute".

Schaeffer, in his final chapters reviewing the modern world, notes two things:  The first is that the Western Church (and especially the American church) failed to speak on issues where it should have, especially on Race and how wealth is used, which has created lasting issues to this day (It is a fair point to wonder what the world would be like if the Western Christian Church actively fought against slavery much earlier than it did and worked much harder on issues of the Industrial Revolution).  But Schaeffer then goes on to wonder (in 1976) what in years hence the Church of the future will look back on our time and wish that they had addressed more fully. 

 For Schaeffer at that time, it was the growth of authoritarian government as demonstrated by the Soviet Union.  Quoting Eric Hoffer, he states "When freedom destroys order, the yearning for order will destroy freedom.  At that point the words left or right will make no difference.  They are only roads to the same end.  There is no difference between an authoritarian government from the right or the left; the results are the same." (emphasis Schaeffer's).  

Schaeffer distills down what was effectively become a post Christian society to two items, the only two items by which most everyone, Christians and non-Christians, have come to manage their lives: personal peace and prosperity.  As long as these two are not impacted, says Schaeffer, people are not likely to get involved.  Threaten either of these, and people will rise up (thus implied, the way to impact people is to not change either of these until it is too late).

There is a lot in this book to make one think.  The volume referenced above clocks in at 257 pages - but it is an engaging and thought provoking read to anyone who wants to understand, on a broad thought level, how we got to where we are today.

A post script:  Schaeffer effectively predicted the modern world. The fact that he did it so well leaves me in a concerned state about what will continue to come - concerned, but not surprised.

Book Review: Retroculture

I first became familiar with William S. Lind through his fictional survival account Victoria (published online, it is a rather enjoyable jaunt of reinventing the country although, like my own writings, the sort of thing that is a theoretical exercise rather than an actual implementable plan).  In this online novel - and in some of his other writings -he introduces the idea of Retroculture, of choosing a time period (in this case of American history) and living according the mores and practices of that era.

It was an interesting concept - as someone that has at least a passing interest in doing things with my hands instead of electronically and the sense that I am "out of time" with the current mores and practices, the idea inherently appealed to me.  If only, I thought, there was a book on it.

Turns out there is.

The premise of Lind's book is simple:  "Retroculture is the discovery of the past and the good things that it has to offer."

Why?  "Conventional wisdom says we have no choice but to drive blindly onward into an undefined but increasingly threatening future.  Retroculture says "Hold on a minute." We do have a choice.  Through a dialogue with the past, we can shape that future.  We can find ways, by looking back, to make the future promising than threatening.  We can regain control of our destiny.  And in the process, we can reunify the generations instead of pitting one age group against another."

(Before someone goes there with all the bad things that the past had in it such as slavery, Jim Crow Laws, etc., Lind explicitly states - multiple times - that those sorts of things are not the sorts of things that he is talking about.  He could not state it more plainly.  So just let us not have that conversation, shall we?)

Lind notes that World War II was the last era in the U.S. where all generations had the same interests and tastes (I laughed for a moment when I read this - then I thought about it.  I think he is entirely correct, upon reflection.).  What happened?  We moved from a tradition of service and discipline and self mastery to a world of "the rapacious demands of the self".  Lind posits that the youth culture of the 1960's brought self to the fore - and when "self-discovery, self -realization, and self-fulfillment" failed, it was replaced by possessions and image:  "The 90s completed the work of the 60s".

Lind's book breaks down Retroculture into several areas:  Retro-Homes, Retro-Families, Retro-Clothing, Retro-Entertainment, Retro-Manners, Retro-Travel, Retro-Business, Retro-Service, and Retro-America.  In each section, he breaks down what a "Retro" life would look like.  For homes, for example, the model of older homes (either original or designed as such) with smaller footprints, larger porches, and to the extent that one would desire, retro-appliances and decorations.  The same concept applies across all of the section listed.

The implementation is simple enough: pick an era that interests you.  Study it.  Then begin to bring that era alive in your own life as much or as little as you like.

I have to admit that I enjoyed the book - partially, as I indicated, because I am wired that way.  But I also enjoyed it because it is a hopeful book.  It exudes almost a utopian appeal, something which I loved (and miss in so many social works).  Lind really and truly believes that Retro-Culture can make the world a better place.  Other than analyzing how we got here, he scarcely talks in negative tones about the present.  His eye is on the past and how it can make the future better. I also loved that Lind does not push an "all or nothing" approach.  He states start where you are, with what you have, and to the level that makes you comfortable.

There are parts that I found less appealing, as with any author:  his love of mass transit (true, a huge element of the early and mid 20th century) is not something that would feasibly work, nor is his vision of trains as the preferred mode of travel (again, true once upon a time but not workable now with serious private investment).  But I would not say that these predilections detracted from the whole; they made the book more authentic.

In the chapter names "Getting Started", Lind motes the following:

"As to the saying "You can't go back", it is a warning, not against trying to recover the good things from the past - which we can do - but against the people who keep telling us we can't go back.  Very often, these people have selfish interests in present trends.  Some are people whose lifestyles might face disapproval if most Americans return to traditional values.  Some have financial interests in rampant consumerism, in selling '"upscale'" goods with "prestige labels".  Some work in industries, such as entertainment, that might have trouble adjusting to Retroculture's recovery of good taste.  Most of them fear the rejection of  "selfism" inherent in Retroculture, because their own lives are very self-centered.

So, when you hear, "You can't go back", watch out.  What the person who tells you that is really saying is, "You can go back, and I'm afraid of what might happen to my interests if you do."  Be certain you recognize what that person's interests really are - what his hidden agenda is."

Like most such books, I believe the chances of it actually coming to pass are rather small. But as a thought provoking work, both for an analysis of what is wrong with society and how looking to earlier eras might address this, it is well worth your time.

Of Businessmen And Bureaucrats

The Collapse LI: The Outside World

04 December 20XX

My Dear Lucilius:

Young Xerxes (you will remember him, the young man who had the ATV and the industrious ideas) appeared at my door this very day.  It has been quite some time since we had a visitor of any kind, so of course I asked him to step in out of the cold for a while.  Even I, from time to time, enjoy conversation.

After settling in and discussing a bit of news about the town - not a great deal you can imagine, as it is Winter:  no deaths yet, but potentially a new life which is welcome in this age of hardship - he mentioned that someone in our small burg had a home radio set up and was, at some level, getting some news from the outside world.

As I am sure you are living right now, the news from the outside world is not good.

Most of the communication, Xerxes related, comes from other small operators scattered here and about and the occasional emergency channel. The small operators are scattered away from the urban areas but at least one person continues to operate in the nearest large city.

It is the sort of thing that you are undoubtedly familiar with as well:  Starvation.  Destruction.  Burned out shells of buildings with the population dead or fled. Here, in the heart of Winter, our average temperature is in the mid twenties Fahrenheit so there is little enough movement: people either have enough and hunker down or, sadly, expire.  There is no marginal existence here.  I remember reading in the histories of Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse of the hunkered down existence the Sioux had during the Winters and how a bad year of buffalo meant a meager existence in the Winter.

In discussing this with young Xerxes, it made me think of one of the fundamental weakness the economy - can we call it our previous economy now? - had, that most all localities were completely dependent on everything coming from somewhere else.  Everyone came to assume, of course, that the trucks would always run, the ships would always sail, the trains would always arrive, bringing with them their cargoes of food and fuel and essentials.  Most places had a few specialties or things that they produced in sufficient quantities to export, but not enough variety to support a civilization.

But everything did stop.  And now, it appears, it will be a great while before comes back.

I thanked young Xerxes and told him to stop by again any time - even this old hermit has come to need a little companionship.  I sent him off with some dried fruit for himself and some for the family that had a new life coming - we can all use the calories now, I am sure.

It strikes me as a bit odd that in such a short time, our supply lines have collapsed to our locales.  On the other hand, I am sure the citizens of the Roman Empire in 477 felt the same way.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

Sunlight

Sunrise or Sunset,

sentinel pine trees drink both

with silent hunger.

Book Review: Between Shades of Gray

One afternoon on my reading chair a book magically showed up.  Na Clann have been cleaning out their rooms so I assumed it was from one of them.  It appeared to be a young adult book - quick read, I assumed.

I could not have been more wrong.

The book is starts in Lithuania, 1941, just after the Soviet Annexation of all of the Baltic States.  It follows Lina, a 15 year old girl, her 10 year old brother Jonas, and her Mother and Father who are taken by the Soviets.  Her father is separated from the family and while he is sent to prison, the rest of family is sent off to a work camp:  first in Siberia for a year, then even further North to the Arctic Circle.

The book is lyrically written as a series of short chapters with small flashbacks to the past of Lina's life, both growing up and in the summer right before the occupation, when she was supposed to enroll in a school of art.  The author prose is so well written you can feel the cold of Siberia, the hunger, the blows and comments of the Soviet soldiers.

20 million were killed as part of Stalin's purges, including those who were sent to the work camps who were not Russian political enemies but enemies to the Soviet regime none the less (the Germans that lived along the Volga river also fell into this category).  We do not hear much about them today or scarcely remember them in the West, but I suspect the wounds are terribly raw in those re-established Baltic states following the collapse of the Soviet Union.

I would argue that the book is important for two reasons.  The first is that, simply it is a well written book and a good story, something which I have found in scarce supply of late.  The second is that it is a telling conviction of the authoritarian state and what happens when people who see anyone different as a threat to their power - something that is more than relevant in our modern culture.

A third point - one that is important from my point of view - is that I think the book could be used as a bridge for discussion with those who perhaps might not otherwise be willing to engage in such conversations.  If it lead to such evil consequences in the past, how could it be any different now? 

On Tribes

 Claire Wilson over at Living Freedom has an excellent post about Our Tribal Future, which is a thoughtful ramble about our essentially ongoing devolution into a tribal sort of society and the kinds of "tribes" that actually work (Tribes, Monastics, Communities).  It is a rather fascinating and thoughtful read and well worth the 10 minutes or so you will invest in it.

As a preface to this consideration, she laments how the tribes in her own life have been breaking down over the last few months - and how rather surprised and saddened she is by this.
It is certainly a thought that has been on my own mind of late as well.

It is interesting - when we moved here 11 years ago I do not know that I would have said I had a "tribe".  I had a few friends, not as a collective whole group but a series of individuals I did things with.  Moving to New Home, as I slowly found activities that I became involved in - Iai, Highland Games - I thought I had found my tribe, both in the physical sense with the individuals I saw physically as well as the connections I made online.  Life felt good: I had friends, I had support, I had a bulwark to weather the storm.

But that feels that it has slipped away over the last few months.

The Plague of 2020 has helped nothing, of course.  I have not thrown since November of last year and it is quite possible I will not throw again until next year.  Iai continues, but due to the Plague we train and then get out as quickly as possible from the Dojo.  And online social media connections have become fraught with the danger of the modern era:  on the one hand, saying anything is likely to lead to issues; on the other, many people do make comments and suddenly the 10% of things you shared in common becomes buried beneath the 90% that you realize you do not agree on.

Suddenly, those tribes you built have essentially evaporated.

My choices are threefold.  The first is simply to continue on as if nothing has happened, that those tribes still exist as they did - difficult, because I know that to not be true.  The second option is to let those tribes go and possibly build another one based on actual needs and interests, not the perceived ones - although I question how much more successful this would be than before.  The third, of course, is simply accept the isolation and prepare to go it alone.

I am not  yet clear on which makes the most sense.

The one thing that I can come out of this with that makes me a bit happy is that I have discovered a tribe of sorts - you, gentle readers, and those that write the blogs that read and follow.  We are certainly much more of the same mindset than many others in the past, and although all of you are far away, we still manage to give some form of moral support and practical advice.

So maybe the choice is a bit easier:  a form of going it alone in the immediate vicinity but knowing that there is a community, out there, backing me up.

In a world of dissolution and abandonment, maybe this is the best we can do.

Do Not Wish (And An Apology)

 

(The Apology:  Blogger has gone ahead and forced my hand about adopting "The New Interface" [grumble, grumble, says the Luddite within me].  I had put it off as long as I could, but even I have become a "conversion statistic now.  As a result, I am trying to figure out how to do the things I used to do flawlessly even one week ago. Apologies in advances for weird postings or if I accidentally lose a comment.  I am sure it will all work out in the end.)

(Grumble, grumble, snarl, Get Off My Lawn with your new fangled interface...)

Reaping And Planting

Yesterday, as  a matter of course I finished out another batch of yogurt.  It did not really strike me as a significant event at all - except for the fact that this was the second round of propagating yogurt.  A certain level of independence has been achieved.

This week I started in on my cheese that I had made in June.  It has some mold issues so I have had to remove larger parts of the rind and outside portion than I might like, but it was the second cheese that I made using my cheese press.  Guess what?  It actually tastes like real cheese (instead of everything tasting like a fresh cheese that sat a while.

I also made hooks this weekend.  Nothing fancy (my technique needs plenty of work), but something that actually could be useful in some kind of circumstances.

None of these I would consider to be particularly large victories by any stretch of the imagination.  A batch of yogurt only lasts about a week around here; the cheese only slightly longer once opened.  The hooks may or may not get used for things.  But the important thing is that they were done - and having been done (as demonstrated with the yogurt), they can be done again - better perhaps, and with a bit more finesse (and less mold).

Sometimes , as Stevenson says, the seeds planted are far more important than the harvest reaped.

Meet A

Two weeks ago Nighean Dhonn came home after being gone for only a short time on her evening walk with Poppy The Great.  "Dad", she said, "I found a kitten."

Sigh.  I am a sucker.  I rescue spiders and mosquito hunters in my house.  So out we went to see a small kitten.

There he was, hiding under a bush.

He was obviously far from home; I could count every rib on his ribcage.  We shifted positions and I slowly approached him; he took off down the road and dodged into an side yard.  We followed him down and found him, huddled under a pile of wood.  I grabbed him out; he hissed at me and gave me a bit on my index finger.  We walked back to the house, my hand oozing blood and him trying to bite and claw me, growling at the indignity of being carried.

A quick trip to the store for litter and food later, he was crouched behind the bathroom door, hissing and growling at every opportunity.  The food I brought was devoured when I was safely out of the room; the litter box was used.  He had poop on his back legs and an obviously prolapsed rectum.

This went on over the weekend:  we went in, he hissed and growled, but would let himself be pet.  Nighean Dhonn  went in to read to him to get him used to a human voice.

I checked in with The Ravishing Mrs. TB, who was out of town moving Nighean Gheal into her aparment.  "See if there is a shelter you can take him to" she asked.  I reached out - but thanks to The Plague of 2020, responses were delayed and appointments had to be made to drop animals off.  My fear is that he would be labeled feral and shoved away; the animal shelter said "Keep trying to pet him and get him used to people".

Over the weekend we kept trying - at one point he completely disappeared from bathroom and we tore the house apart looking for him (turns out he climbed under the bottom drawer of our bathroom sinks and drawers where there was a space; we would not have found him but Poppy the Great did).

Finally, on Sunday evening, we found a flea on him.  That was it:  I picked up and dunked him in the sink, hissing and growling, to wash him, his fleas, and his poop.  I pulled him out, wet, put him in a big towel, and started drying him off.

Suddenly, he started purring.

After that, he never growled again.  Only purring, only ever so happy to see anyone - so happy that he won the heart of The Ravishing Mrs TB (who apparently was looking at kittens unbeknownst to me).

A small investment at the vet,  two time medication applications daily, and multiple butt washings later, he has moved his way into our home.  Poppy The Great is almost overwhelming in her eagerness to meet him (mostly she just licks him over and over).  Every time we go into the bathroom, he is always there, purring and ready for a pet (or, more recently, to attack your leg).

I do not really remember actually asking for a cat to rescue.  But now that he is here, I cannot imagine the house without him.

The Collapse L: The Coming Of December

01 December 20XX

My Dear Lucilius:

And just like that, December has arrived. Or at least has arrived chronologically, if not quite in my heart.

I find myself torn over this. December holds a great deal of religious importance to me as well as personal nostalgia, yet both aspects have been downplayed in the last several years to the point that I am surprised how I feel about them this year.

Like so many other families, we had bins and bins of Christmas related items. Every post Thanksgiving I would march up on the roof and festoon Christmas lights over the edges of the front of the house; every post Thanksgiving Day when the tree arrived I would wrap it in the lights that were decided upon for that year. My wife and my daughters would follow with the ornaments on the tree and decorations throughout the house.

After my daughters moved out on their own and (even more so) when my wife passed away, all of that ended, of course. My daughters came and took the items that meant something to them; I purged myself of lights that would no longer wrap trees or garnish roofs. I kept two sets of things: the first was a set of homemade plaid ornaments strung on jute twine my wife had made when we were first married and had cats which would attack the Christmas trees; the second were her collection of crèches (Nativity scenes).

Over the years, she had collected any number of them from all over the world. There were simple ones carved of wood and fancy ones elaborately painted. There were ceramic ones and a fired clay one and two that were children’s displays. There were very traditional ones based on the cultures they came from and what one would consider a “classic” one from when we were growing up. There was even a metal one with pieces three feet high.

These, I kept.

Part of it, of course, was simply that the religious aspects of Christmas have been so downplayed in recent years that they were just as likely to be thrown away or destroyed as they were to be used (and some of them were very fragile, of course). The other is that these were the Christmas items my wife treasured and always made sure were prominently displayed as anyone entered our home.

I have put them up every year at Christmas since I moved here, scattering them around the house on the bookshelves and hanging the plaid ornaments from shelf to shelf as well. It was never a full Christmas of course – it is not as if anyone has come here for the Holidays since I moved – but it did bring a little bit of the holiday spirit into my December.

It is odd to me, Lucilius, how the traditions get started and once they are started, how hard they are to let go. There are no stockings to be ransacked early Christmas morning; Christmas cards have in general become things of the past let alone the dwindling contact list of a widower; and the only presents that are under anything are the small snacks I buy for the rabbits and whatever I have purchased for myself.

I suppose there is a fair case to be made that this pushes me back towards the original importance of Christmas as the celebrated date of the birth of the Savior, stripped of every sense of commercialism and popular culture. If you think about it, the greatest shopping day of the year – Black Friday – did not happen this year and may likely never again happen in our lifetimes.

The Nativity Scenes, of course, help to keep me grounded in the reality of why we as Christians celebrate Christmas. Each one is an interpretation of that event, still here after the crass commercialism that had become the modern world has collapsed and blown away. The stars that shown over Bethlehem still shine over us today, even if the entire human culture and structure around it have collapsed.

The plaid stars, of course, just hang and any light that they shine is in my heart and memory.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

Cloud Currents

As the fish look up,

do they see the underside 

of the ocean's waves?

On Steel and Social Internets

Sunday afternoon, post blacksmithing class, having consumed what worked out to be a second lunch (blacksmithing is a much more calorie intensive activity than I had anticipated), The Ravishing Mrs. TB asked if I was going to post pictures of what I made on The Book of Face.  "No" was my response, in keeping with my (relatively new) philosophy of supporting the Social Internet instead of Social Media.

What a strange and wonderful sensation that decision was.

Strange, in that I did not get the usual "Thumbs Up" and supportive commentary that I had in the past when I posted such things.  There was no instant feedback loop telling me that I had done something good.

Wonderful, in that I found that I was reclaiming a very small piece of my privacy and independence back.

That small spark - of doing a thing and not essentially advertising it to the world - meant as much as actually completing the works themselves.  I had done something and the world did not immediately know about it.

It brings up the actual idea of having a private life, a life which belongs to the individual and is not demonstrated to the world at large (just as it is not tracked, monitored, or surveyed).    The doing of things, the making of things, the sharing of experiences which is either kept or shared as one wills, not as a demand or an expectation.

I have blogs I follow that share a great deal about their lives and their activities.  I have blogs that share almost nothing beyond what they are writing about.  In either case this is okay as the individual is making the choice to share what they wish, not because they are driven to by some neurological need for approval or demand of a larger media, audience, or authority that says "You must".

The idea is not original with me, but I would argue that the true wealth of the "Brave New World" will be the ability to which one is able to have a life which is private, where one can do and go and be without having to navigate the social pressure of "posting everything" nor of the tracking of what one does.  Like all other things in the modern world, this is much more difficult than it used to be.  But one does not have to make easier by simply acting without thought.

Perhaps not posting pictures of coal, fire, and steel represents no great act of civil disobedience. On the other hand, at least for me, perhaps it does.

A Weekend Of Blacksmithing

This past weekend I took a blacksmithing class.

I had wanted take one for many years (I took one long ago, but really it was a very introductory course).  There is a local smithy in town connected to a living history site that offers classes.  This was my Christmas gift from my family).

(On the left, bituminous coal.  On the right, clinker, the remnants of the coal after it has burned.)

To be frank with you, I really enjoyed it.  To be fair, it is hard work - I work out regularly and I was exhausted when I got home on Saturday (if you need an arm and chest workout, this is it).  Also, as it turns out, steel is a pretty forgiving medium that can be "fixed" if you make an error in most cases.

Also, to be fair, I do love the smell of a coal fire.

On the left is the rolled stock (low carbon steel) that we used as a base. On the right is a coal rake, which is a tool used at the forge to move the coal into the fire.

We also made hooks.  The first is one you drive directly into a timber:

The second is one that you can screw into the wall.

The last one is an "S" hook. 

At times, all I could see when I looked at the coals was Sauron forging The Rings of Power.

I really enjoyed this.  I am not sure how much of a hobby I want to make this, but it certainly does have potential.

The Great Day Of Failure 2020

If you have read here for a bit, you know that (as any good independent principality), we here at The FortyFive have our own pantheon of holidays which we celebrate, days that are as meaningful (or more) as any of the national holidays that appear on lesser, "other" calendars.

Today is August 2nd, or  Failure Day - hereafter known as The Great Day of Failure (sounds more majestic, does it not?).

The Great Day of Failure commemorates the day in 2005  when The Firm, the real estate company that I and a friend had founded, was dissolved due to the fact that we were not at all successful financially and needed to do something else.

If you have never failed a business, or had the exquisite pleasure of realizing that your financial decisions have put you and your family at significant risk and that if you are extremely lucky, you can find a position in an industry you swore you would never go back to - well, I will not tell you that you have not lived, but I will say that you have spared yourself a very peculiar type of humiliation.

So once a year, I celebrate not only this failure, but all the failures of the past year  - not because of the failures themselves per se, but because in many cases failures in fact represent the willingness to try something different and new and it did not go as well as intended.

This year, of course, we celebrate my failure in my work position which led me to a whole new side of my industry and, from what I can see right now, ultimately a very different way of life.  We also have at least one yogurt failure, two cheese failures, a rather lackluster response to my lawn restoration attempts, my (in process but most likely) continued attempt to try to grow corn and most beans when really I should be growing black eyed peas and sweet potatoes, my on-line attempt to do Italian, and (through no fault of our own) our failure to go to Italy due to The Plague of 2020.

For me, this has become a helpful exercise in looking back over the past year, realizing that failures do happen, and rather than letting them collect all through the year and become something I gnaw over in my mind time and again, just let everything come together on one day, look at it, catalog it away, and then move on for the following year.

So Happy Great Day of Failure, friends.  May your failures be massive but not harmful, and may the failure in everything new you tried be a badge of honor for you as you enter the next year.

Trust me, there are plenty of new ways to fail.

July Sunset

Wheeling in circles,

 sparrows amidst golden clouds

dream only of food,