Really good essay from @jaheppler on 19th century Americans bringing bison near to extinction.
A home remedy I hadn’t thought about in years: baking soda and water mixed into a paste for bee stings. Actually, in my memory we used for any kind of sting.
The men who live in my memory
The men who live in my memory had work to do. That work had a purpose: to feed their families. They were not career men with five year plans and KPIs. The men who live in my memory did not worry about what it meant to be a man or whether they were good at “adulting.” They knew that whatsoever their hands found to do, must be done with all their might.
John Michael Greer is never boring. In this interview, the (eventual) focus is on Trump and American politics. It’s good to hear a political commentator that takes seriously the idea of time as a cycle rather than a straight line. That idea opens up new possibilities, and maybe tames some anxieties.
The prime directive of localism as a political and religious commitment is the tending and feeding of one’s own home and the life in which it is situated.
Remember those ice cream cups with the paper lids with a tab and the wooden spoon?
A bumblebee sleeping in last Friday.
The free version of The Morning Dispatch gives me about all of the news I want in a day. I hardly ever click the links because I’d hit a paywall anyway. But their summaries make me aware of what’s going on, and I can follow up if something piques my interest.
Goodfellowship by Li Po
Hast thou not beheld the Yellow River Which flows from Heaven? It runs rapidly down and empties into the sea, Nevermore to return. Hast thou beheld the mirror in the hall That reflects the grief of white hair? In the morning it is like black silk, In the evening it will be covered with snow. While we are in the mood of joy, Let us drink! Let not the golden bottle be lonely, Let us waste not the moon!
Something I don’t feel like I see much anymore: oncoming drivers flashing their lights to warn of a speed trap ahead