Just because sometimes things seem so easy. No vinegar, using ingredients on hand (water, apple and alder smoked salt, mustard and coriander seeds, 6 cloves of garlic, a few bay leaves, black pepper, red pepper flakes).
I’ve never done this before (as if urgently confessed). Not sure about fermentation. Pickles seem buoyant. I used a nice ocean smooth piece of pink feldspar granite to keep their tops in the brine. On the third day they tasted pretty close to a decent half sour. I’ll definitely omit the red pepper flakes on subsequent batches. Crispness trailed off to some degree after that, and flavor intensified as well. Not sure if the water was salty enough. More research and experimentation clearly warranted. Also probably should get some of that calcium chloride (pickle crisp) until I know a little better what I’m doing.
This whole knowing what you’re doing thing. On the one hand, isn’t it that perpetual experimentation and discovery are the primal fun? On the other, it really has to be about the pickles to some extent. Why else thither would we go?
The child of Tamme-Lauri awakes for her third year in America. She was good for two leaves in her first appearance, and three in her second. This year the starting bid is 5, that’s encouraging, as is great stretch upward. You’ll remember her very special origins here.
Well, quiet for sure, and I guess possessed of some energy.
Early last year I came across a website that let one choose the ingredients for ones own herbal tea. Great idea. I picked out ten herbs and really liked the result. They let you save your creation so that you can reorder. I did that a few times before it sank in that for a little effort I could get a equal or greater result at 20 percent of the cost. Sure, I may be discounting the cost of effort but I feel that’s justified by otherwise unaccounted payoffs – the joy of experimenting and the learning.
A one time investment in a few mason jars seemed justified.
This frontier, of making herbal teas, is comparatively limitless. Sourcing is a huge dimension (where did the ingredient come from … was it harvested at the new or full moon, were in incantations appropriate to the desire?). Blending – the proportion of this one relative to that one. Synergies positive and negative – does this one being next to that one produce a whole greater than the sum of the parts effect? (or conversely, whole is less than the sum of the parts). Taste. Effect on state of mind and body.
As to this blend as a whole, it’s great. Warm, tasty, calming and strengthening at once, reflective.
As to the ingredients and their (perceived) noteworthy contributions I’ll start with the base. Rooibos, Honeybush, and Tulsi I’ve used equal parts, probably 40% of the whole. Warm red, no caffeine, supposedly rich in anti-oxidants. Siberian ginseng contributes an earthiness and if you believe it some rejuvenative power. I could consider shifting to Panax Ginseng on this one. Ashwagandha similarly a tonic, many believers. Chamomile calming and with a pleasant flowery bouquet. Nettle leaf I have yet to perceive any taste or benefit yet they seem to be a consistent part of the quacking cacophony of cataloged wonders. Would a voodoo doll perform differently if its head was stuffed with nettle leaves? Empiricism can answer many questions. Cardomom adds a little warmth and spice, probably unimaginable synergies as well. Milk thistle seed much as nettle leaf. Licorice root really does add a sweetness, I use sparingly therefore. Of hawthorn berries I cannot speak highly enough, so much so that also I add hawthorn berry powder. Calming and with a nice berry flavor.
Prompt – Inside the workshop of an herbalist there are apothecary jars filled with herbs as well as tied up bunches of herbs seen drying. There will be a hearth with a fire and a kettle on the hob. The herbalist will be sipping a steaming cup of herbal tea. A warm light suffuses the scene. There is something a mystical sense about the place, as if the herbalist may have come from an alchemical tradition. There is a pad on the table with some alchemical drawings and calculations
There you have it. At the top you see the humble reality. Down here you see the imagination. In this case it’s the latter driving the former. So often it is. Quiet power?
Please forgive, dear reader, what will be a fanciful tale with many competing themes.
As a young adult I’d jot down little fragments of muse, one in particular that’ would come back to me with some regularity … “At the helm of the Dreamship, Odysseus has time to wonder”. Little doubt this was a cosmic framing intending to rationalize the confusion and indecision of youth, that while one may have captaincy of the journey of life, that one might not know what to do with that command.
Throughout life one has probably engaged in various perceived heroisms, of doing long and hard and far things, things that take one far from home. Eventually though there comes a time where one may desire to return (of just get to) the place where one belongs. Then the seemingly simple journey, the journey home, is undertaken and whoa – it wasn’t supposed to be that hard. Storms, Sirens, enchantresses, serpents, even a Cyclops, such an unimaginable wealth of adversities arise to obstruct the journey! The strategems and navigations and good fortune required to get home may be far larger than ever anticipated.
That we navigate life in a sea of dreams, that the sea itself transcends our expectations and our power, that at most we may be lucky and successful captains of that journey, aye – having a steady dream ship would be a tremendous asset. And so begins the tale.
I sought to build a proper bed frame. Post and beam I thought, for such is a redoubtable architecture. I purchased two 20 foot red oak 6×6’s. One I had ripped into 3 x 6’s and then halved each to have rails. The other I cross sectioned into 3 and 4 foot columns and mortised in such a manner that the rails could fit, roughly a six foot by six foot platform. I envisioned joists spanning the rails, purchased five 2 x 6’s for the purpose, as well as sheets of 5/8″ plywood and 1/4 inch masonite to act as decking. A stout base indeed. For the head and foot boards I went into the countryside just east of Augusta where an old couple who made maple syrup also cut and sold lumber. From them I bought four 2 x 10 x 5/4 x 8′ red oak boards. That was in 2020. The project came to a stall with COVID and because it was hard to get the rails to fit the mortises as one person and my methods for cutting the tenons was juvenile and inferior.
Musing never stops though, nor dreams. Supposedly there is much that can be told by how the brain is resonating at any given time, as well as the variations across time. We do know that when dreaming, theta waves predominate.
Fancy struck, looking at the waves stacked as above, that if the space between each wave (from the bottom up delta, theta, alpha, beta, gamma) were itself a board that one could cut the edges to match examples of the waves, so that the bottom edge of the lowest board of the headboard would have the edge of delta and the top edge of theta, that the second board a bottom edge of theta (matching the top of the bottom board) and a top edge of alpha, and so on. The headboard could be constructed so that the height where one lays ones head is right at theta. Fanciful, yes.
Fancy continued to strike. A dreamship, is it? How will it be powered? Of course it must be powered by wisdom. From whence? Why from whence all wisdom emanates. Where is that? Uh, uh … Athena? Jeez, really? Really. And by what agency will this power be vested? Um, um … Owls! Oh no, really? Really!
I began to recruit wooden owls. I know, I know, is crazy, but sometimes one has to follow an idea to actualization – that’s one reason ideas can be so dangerous.
There were other owls, owls that did not make the cut. The sketch below summarizes the final idea.
sd
By the autumn of 2023 I fully recognized that the execution of this idea was considerably above my woodworking skill level. I was fortunate though in that a world class woodworker had moved to town. He had an open house, his open-mindedness was noteworthy. After talking for a few weeks he agreed to undertake the project. Also around this time there was another excellent woodworker who was retiring, from whom I purchased a wonderful flitch-cut walnut log. This would be relevant because I’d decided that alternating the wood color in the headboard and foot board would accentuate the design.
The magical realism element of all this bears some note. So how does a dreamship of this nature actually work? First one lays ones head on the pillow. So far so good. Then, or soon thereafter, or eventually, if it’s destined, one will begin to dream. This is like turning the ignition of a car. Vroom, vroom – the owls awake! We know that they’re in constant conversation both with each other and with their patron Athena. The theta waves produced by the dreamer are their fuel. Step on the gas and, because we know that dreams are trans-dimensional, of course the ship can fly through walls, can fly anywhere really, to any imaginable place and through any configuration of dissonances. Vroom vroom! A children’s book could/would be suitable here, “Dreamship Adventures”, but of course the larger and realer picture is that we all do it anyway, navigating to our dreamt-of destinations in life.
I love the actualization, pictured first sans owls.
and then ready to voyage
I feel deeply fortunate, privileged, and thankful to have been able to bring this about. I feel a sense of duty to bring to this marvelous platform dreams and choices within them that befit the wonder of possibility. It may be that the idea of home is less a particular physical destination and more a deep comfort in capacity, that one can navigate to where spirit and desire wisely suggest. This ship may be as the magic feather was to the beloved Dumbo the elephant.
Yes, that’s what I’m saying. Babble, you say. Babel, I say.
Last Summer I had a long (10 foot) and wide (18 inches) piece of Ipe delivered. Breaking down the pallet yielded seven 10 foot 2×4’s. In the backyard there’s a patch that’s wild with vines: grape, bittersweet, Boston Ivy, and woody nightshade. I’ve long enjoyed watching vines compete. I thought perhaps to make a trellis.
Proceeding with little planning (that’s the norm) the ten footers were angled and braced. Some extension was crafted in the typical reach for greatness.
I dwelt a little on what should cap them, some great statue perhaps or a spooky Illuminati symbol, or worse. Ultimately I deemed these too message laden, but a wind sculpture, aye, might just be the ticket. Etsy.
A little wrangling and to the top it was affixed.
It still needs to be set standing more straight but the main task is accomplished. Whereas John Lennon favored the watching of wheels there are so many, and watching the wheels that choose which wheels to watch is so meta. I behold in peace the whirling and do not lament that I may or may not witness the fall of the tower.
Video soon to follow or a link to the website that will watch continuously and archive the footage in perpetuity.
It was when the walls began to melt that I had a sinking feeling. Clear eyed I’d go back each morning. Is this really happening?
Homasote and pin hole pipe leaks are incompatible bedfellows. Homasote is such a lowly thing as it is and pin hole leaks are insidious. Depicted below are the first stages of tear down, showing no less than four layers of wallpaper, said homasote, and that which is underneath. The homasote had acted as a sponge, carrying the moisture several feet from the corner and fostering a vigorous growth of black mold.
sd
That corner contained a wide drain pipe, hot and cold feed going up, an several wire conduits.
Witness that wet green. And yes, the ceiling too. After finding the leak(s) my friendly neighborhood plumber replaced the failed copper with pex.
No less than seven rodent skeletons (it’s a very old house) were found in removing the old sheathing. One perhaps was a now extinct dire rodent.
I had help with the new walls and ceiling, a mirror cabinet and nice cherry casing for the pipe run. I was prepared to celebrate. I even trimmed the window, the door, and the baseboards in cherry all by myself.
Not so fast, Rabbit. In the course of temporarily moving the toilet and sink to allow the work to be done it was discovered that both of these had slow leaks, leaks that had to some extent rotted the floor boards adjacent. Without fear of wind or vertigo I undertook to replace the floor using the ample stocks of cherry wood in the barn.
Of course removing the floor meant once again taking out the toilet and sink. Showing subfloor after removal.
Cherry for the floor milled accordingly.
Cut to fit and again prepared to celebrate – but
the old subfloor, not rotted but tired, very tired. Screwing through the cherry to hold the boards down, the screws would not bite but rather spun, endlessly if so twirled. Vexation in heaps. Decided to replace subfloor as well, with two fit cut sheets of plywood, 1/2 + 3/8 thick to emulate the thickness of what was being replaced.
But observe, on the left of the toilet drain where the old subfloor had to be cut, that if a new floor were placed there, there’d be no support. Maybe a new floor joist in the wanting spot? At this point it was largely a journey of amazement anyway.
just to the right of the blue pex above note the notch I carved to support said new joist.
said new joist, of lvl.
and sparing you the minor challenges, this time arriving at success. Here it is fully tarted out, with a new sink no less.
Learnings? Not to underestimate, of course. Underestimation is the hallmark of the optimist. I have often too bright a regard for what is possible and too little a realistic sense of what it will take to actualize.
Began with clean up of the barn. A great pile of wood, long at the center of the barn, was sorted. Cinder blocks were allocated, 2 x 8’s were cut. A place in the basement was made and they were set atop the 2 x 8’s that in turn were set atop the cinder blocks, all in reverse order of course. This activity, un-pictured, caused the usual reaction by the local wooden Buddha community.
and how could it not be so, will such a magnitude of space liberated in which to exercise freedom?
Now what to do with such freedom? Heavens, there really are no limits except time and strength and blood and vision, boundless really. I guess then to reach heavenward, at least colloquially, a good first step.
There was a ten foot long wooden pallet that had arrived earlier in the summer. It spoke of not being garbage, of wanting to be involved in a higher enterprise. So be it, my ready answer, a trellis thou shalt become –
Probably sixteen more slats before fit for deployment. There is a small plateau on the southwest side of the yard, the grapevine plateau, all of 18′ x 10′ that seethes with grapevines, also bittersweet, Boston ivy, woody nightshade, a great richness of vines. The trellis will be set there to host a great dance of coexistence.
Hurricane Lee this year proved pretty much a nothing-burger, at least to the coast of Maine. As it arrived there was some promise of drama, some stirring in the sky. This is just a color post, no commentary.
To be happy as a delicate glass bubble you must earnestly hope that the world around you offers proper support.
You may recall a few years ago the construction of a (naive) orb support from an old hand-hewn beam. A proud thing but not deep on design to resist the rage and power of rot. Rot gripped viciously from below, the scraps shown here –
Orb support, some might say that this is what folks do, protect their delicate orbs so carefully, indeed, I felt compelled as well. I had some pressure treated wood lying about. After chopping off the rotted base I affixed it.
The prospect of a better world can be enticing, of course. Rather than a cross a windmill, not for any symbolic reason, simply to avoid any further hacking into the central column.
By this endeavor an interval has been purchased. Absent some graver and more particular calamity the support should last for, hmm, my bet is a decade, I could lose that bet. We never really know the weather.
