New song from Nick Shoulders: “Apocalypse Never.”
Cling to joy, don’t let it die
Like the waters, we will rise
He’s also selling a poster (image attached) that will benefit the Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund.
New song from Nick Shoulders: “Apocalypse Never.”
Cling to joy, don’t let it die
Like the waters, we will rise
He’s also selling a poster (image attached) that will benefit the Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund.
As Andrew Belfield said yesterday:
Well, between “friend” & Google’s Olympics ad, it’s been a bad couple days for humans.
It’s true! Which is why I am glad to have read the chapter “Mishkos Kenomagwen: The Teachings of Grass” in Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass yesterday. It’s a refreshingly humane contrast to the artificiality of Silicon Valley.
The chapter discusses an experiment performed by Kimmerer and a graduate student at the request of some basket weavers. The ancestral wisdom of the weavers stated that sweetgrass wanted to be harvested, in accordance with the principles of the honorable harvest (e.g., never take the first plant you see, never take more than half). That was known and acknowledged. What was not agreed upon was the method of harvest—snip the stems at the base or extract the plant, roots and all.
So, knowing Kimmerer is a botanist, they asked her to determine if one of the two harvesting methods might be the cause of sweetgrass’ ongoing disappearance. Kimmerer proposed the task to a grad student, who then presented it to a faculty committee. They were not impressed. The project had an insufficient theoretical framework, they said, and “everyone knows that harvesting harms a population. You’re wasting your time.”
The grad student went ahead, however, and worked on the project diligently for two years. Some grasses were harvested by snipping, some by uprooting, and some were untouched as a control population. The results were surprising: it didn’t make much difference which harvesting method was used. Both havested stands flourished. The control group, on the other hand, did not. “It didn’t seem to matter how the grass was harvested, only that it was.”
Later analysis also compared areas where sweetgrass was known to have once thrived and since disappeared and areas where it still thrives. The areas where it still thrives were found to be clustered around Native American communities that use sweetgrass in their basket weaving.
Perhaps it is no coincidence that it is Sweetgrass that reveals this story. Wiingaashk was the first to be planted by Skywoman on the back of Turtle Island. The grass gives its fragrant self to us and we receive it with gratitude. In return, through the very act of accepting the gift, the pickers open some space, let the light come in, and with a gentle tug bestir the dormant buds that make new grass. Reciprocity is a matter of keeping the gift in motion through the self-perpetuating cycles of giving and receiving.
Our elders taught that the relationship between plants and humans must be one of balance. People can take too much and exceed the capacity of the plants to share again. That’s the voice of hard experience that resonates in the teachings of “never take more than half.” And yet, they also teach that we can take too little. If we allow traditions to die, relationships to fade, the land will suffer. These laws are the product of hard experience, of past mistakes.
I don’t know what future the machine minds are planning. The world as it actually exists, however—the world of flesh and stem, soil and water—has an essential place for us.
More on the signs of the reversal of technological progress: it’s interesting that Goia frames it as a reversal of progress. The signs he discusses are evidence that high technology is worsening as a tool. If high tech was actually being dismantled, I’d be happy. But it’s just increasingly bad.
I’m kinda glad I’m not a subscriber and can only see about a quarter of the 52 reasons to fear that technological progress is reversing
Lord of the Rings has obviously had a huge impact on me. I’ve mentioned before how the Litany Against Fear from Dune is a part of my life. Recently the line from Wheel of Time has been popping into my head regularly: “The wheel weaves as the wheel wills.”
In other gardening news–to balance things out–the squirrels have absolutely demolished our sunflowers. They haul their fat asses up the stalks (bless ‘em), bite the heads off and bring the whole thing down. Or they reach out from the privacy fence and eat like they’re in a Golden Corral. Ah, well.
Check out these Concord grapes! They’re still a touch sour but they’re almost ready.
We found the graves of the first owners’ of our home today. We put some flowers from our backyard—theirs and ours—on the grave.
I read through the abstract for our house this evening and worked out the history of ownership. The property that includes our house began as a grant of 160 acres from the US government to William Carmichael in 1818. For the next century it was sold off in pieces and parts and was the subject of several lawsuits. One of the owners was Dr. Winthrop Foote—doctor, lawyer, and founder of the local limestone industry.
Our particular lot took its current shape in 1907 when John and Laura Owens purchased it. From there is goes as follows:
All told, we’re the fourth family to live in this house. The three previous families all lived here 30+ years. We plan to keep that tradition.
Two unlikely dreams re: the Bedford pie safe:
I found out this week that my hometown has a unique piece of furniture: the Bedford pie safe. It is unique in being three panels wide instead of two. Research by the local historical society found that they were built by a cabinetmaker named John Reath (1817-1898). I’d love to see one in person!
Pickled some banana peppers tonight. Should be about a week until they’re ready to eat.
I visited Corydon—Indiana’s original state capital—for the first time on Friday. It was the capital from the time it became a state in 1816 until Indianapolis was built (specifically for the purpose of being the capital city) in 1825.
This building housed both wings of the state legislature and the Supreme Court:
The Indiana constitution was debated and drafted in part under this elm, because the building was too hot in June. The tree died about a century ago and they preserved its trunk in this monument. All of Indiana’s county courts have a gavel carved from this elm and the original constitution is stored in a box made from its wood:
The Indiana constitution was signed on this desk:
On a solo drive through southern Indiana today. First stops: the Medora brick factory and the Medora covered bridge (longest in the US).
Work has begun on my next project: building a cabinet for a friend. It’s in trade for some of his grandpa’s tools. He already had the countertop so I’m building the carcass and attaching it.
I have a couple of friends who refuse to shop at Walmart because the Walton family have funded private school vouchers. These friends are both public school teachers and they do not want their money contributing to that effort.
This, of course, makes no sense, economically speaking. The Walton family wealth is well-established and long-lived. Walmart could close tomorrow and it wouldn’t touch the Walton family. Moreover, the refusal of two teachers to buy their groceries at Walmart doesn’t even budge the bottom line at that particular Walmart, let alone the corporation or the founding family.
With all of that said, I support such quixotic refusals. Despite making no real-world impact, they are good for the soul. It’s a miserly heart that looks at such acts with condescension and pity.
To be clear, some such refusals are made out of a foolish pursuit of purity. In such cases, the refusals become more puritan than quixotic.
But when the refusal can be made in pursuit of your own principles, with a proper disdain for “results”, then that refusal moves out of the realm of calculation and into a healthy exercise of your will against the powers that would subject you to their own purposes. We will never have full (or even much!) control over our lives or the environment in which we live. But if we can stake out a small piece of our lives where we refuse to do what is easy, we will have in that space refused to give our consent to destruction.
Before and after on the table and chairs refinishing project for my in-laws. I have one chair (not shown) I’m going to start over. Apart from that, I think I’m done.
Before:
After:
I mentioned recently that this apocalyptic humidity is wreaking havoc on the finish on the table and chairs I’m working on. The lovely and talented Rachel came up with a great solution: finish them in her parents’ garage, which is climate controlled. They agreed and the finish is looking better.
Like Ray Charles’ “Night time is the right time,” Waylon Jennings’ “Amanda” is a song made by its backup singers.
Paper ephemera in my copy of this Forster essay collection. Any ideas what 76/mvt means?
I’m feeling the itch to go on another southern Indiana day-long road trip. Some previous trips:
I note with some disappointment that a few new businesses in my town are called Star City [etc]. When I was growing up, it seemed like every other business was Stone City [etc]. That was, of course, because of the local limestone industry. (We are, for good reason, the self-proclaimed Limestone Capital of the World.) The industry still exists but it is a shadow of its former self, for various reasons. Now businesses seem to be turning to the mascot of our high school for their naming. Is it a big deal? No, but it does represent a fading and forgetting.
This humidity we’re having. My in-laws want a polyurethane finish on their table and chairs. When I spray a coat on a chair it goes cloudy. (I’m doing this in my detached garage with no AC.) So I’ve brought a chair in to my nasty but climate controlled basement and will try it there. Fingers crossed
The Adam and Eve story has always been a fruitful (heh) one for me. Two times I reflected on it: here and here.
I’m nearing the end of the table and chairs restoration project for my in-laws. It’s taking me a long time—thankfully they’re not in a hurry. I’ve had to learn a lot as I go. But now that I can see the end, I’m planning more restorations. Like this rocker. Looks like I’ll be learning rush weaving!
