0137

Sunny & pleasant again. I spend some time transplanting some of the small tomato seedlings outdoors - about 30, if they live. Also plant the rest of the Yukon Golds and some other potatoes.

The chicks have obviously lived their entire short lives indoors; the open pop door does not attract them at all. So I scatter their feed outside today, with a trail of seeds leading through the pop door. Once exposed, they take to the yard like ducks to water, scratching and pecking as nature intended. They'll be fine.

After lunch, I plant a few more beets and carrots until the clouds move in and it starts to rain real nice. The chicks need no prompting now; they scurry into their new home. I close up the coop, and go indoors myself, rest & read a little, make a nice supper, even build a small fire to take the chill out of the house.

The soft rain makes for a comforting lullaby.

0136

Continued clear & dry; the forecasted rain hasn't materialized. The planting is about 60% complete, but the seeds are lying in dry soil. I plant another bed of carrots, then clean up and drive into town, a long time since.

I check out the swap meet at Dan's Feed Bin. Here's a young man - I'm guessing 14 or 15 - whose parents have apparently staked to a little business enterprise. He has raised several hybrid chicks from hatchlings to 4 weeks, so they're feathered out now, ready for a farm environment. The kid is a pretty good salesman, too - I end up buying 4 pullets and 2 cockerels, transferring them to a cage that "just happened" to be in my truck.

After errands, and confession & Mass with Lenore, I get back home and introduce my new chicks into the coop with some water and bread crumbs. I crush & soak some corn & oats to try tomorrow.

0135

The early morning fog lifted by mid-morning to a pleasantly bright day. Have been planting more of my early crops and tending my indoor tomato seedlings. Starting to fix up the henhouse a little as well, and am looking at a couple swap meets coming up; it would be nice to have my own little flock, and fresh eggs.

The back is still stiff and sore, forcing me to take frequent breaks, but as the day progresses it loosens up. I'm sincerely trying to offer all things to God, whether pain or frustration or temptation or joy. But I do prefer being healthy.

Pleased and a little excited to see apples germinating from the heirloom seed (Duchess, I think). Transplanted a few, and marked with stakes. An investment in the future. Peas are starting to come up all over real nice.

0134

Spent the entire Easter Triduum in town, doing miscellaneous work on Lenore's house on Holy Thursday and Good Friday. On Holy Saturday, cutting dead branches out of a tree, a dumb miscalculation, and I fell 15 feet onto my head. A painful and frightening incident; I'm grateful to have come through with only some back pain and severe stiffness - could've been much worse. I am still extremely stiff & sore, and must take frequent breaks.

Today is quite warm, and I do manage to plant about 250 or 300 hills of potatoes, including some little pink ones from last year's seed-originated plants. The small size, I think, is because they were from seed, and so had to grow from scratch, so to speak. Planting these tubers may (I hope) yield potatoes of normal size. I'm anxious to see how they grow and yield. Now, here's a thought: if the seeds represented a mixed parentage, then these pink-skinned potatoes are a new genetic combination, and deserve a name of their own. How about 'Rose Spuds'?

I also put the seed carrots and beets into the ground, and newly purchased non-hybrid pie pumpkin seeds. I notice peas germinating in the southwest patch (Yay!), and it's sunny enough to use sun-warmed water for my bath again.

A card from Lenore, offering prayers for my quick healing. The stiffness is loosening up somewhat, and full recovery is probably just a few days away. But this is a reminder of my own fragility, especially sobering in my current situation. I really have no backup plan, no margin for error, in this endeavor. No one to pick up the slack if I should fail. It is not good for man to be alone.

0133

Having a renewed sense of purpose and focus - a consciousness of how my work may fit in with a higher end - has boosted my energy level. The warm spring weather helps, too.

The new garden season is getting in gear. I've been wielding the spade, expanding the garden in the southeast corner, close to the woods and swamp, planting peas and salad onions, weeding the strawberries, and establishing a nice chamomile bed from volunteer plants. I set the empty bee boxes out as a catcher hive - maybe I'll get lucky and attract a swarm. The firewood is cut & stacked in three stacks, about 4 logger cords total. When rain or snow fall, I work indoors, fishing wires up to the attic and down to light and switch boxes, and laying out plans for a better kitchen arrangement.

Today is a mixture of jobs. Outdoors, I hack down some brambles and break more sod, and finish weeding the strawberries. I nail a couple pieces of old corrugated metal onto the holey roof of the outhouse.

In the yard, I notice several hundred sparrows pecking at something in the winter-dead grass. What can they all be finding at this time of year? Bugs? Seeds? From my perspective, there seems to be nothing worth pecking at. The sparrows obviously disagree, and so I must confess to being obviously clueless. The curious rhythms of nature are a frequent puzzlement to me. My little sphere of consciousness and busy-ness overlaps a billion other little spheres, with huge expanses of non-intersection. This unexpected flock of little birds follow their mysterious pursuits as I follow mine. I do not fathom their reasons. They seem oblivious to mine. Be content to observe and enjoy their fleeting company. In another moment, they are gone.

Indoors, I transplant a couple more tomatoes (approx. 40 seedlings growing now), and finish wiring the switches for the stair and upstairs hall lights.

Good energy and a productive pace of work lately, neither lethargic nor manic/hyper. Thank You, Lord.

0132

Am moved to fast a bit, slow down, maybe take time for some reflective praying.

I do some light work. Thin and transplant tomato seedlings indoors, then transplant asparagus in the southeast corner of the main garden, and weed a bit in the strawberries. Write a letter to Jack. Quit early.

I remember another Lenten time of reflection - how long ago? Seven years? Eight? Knowing I had to do more than just fast & pray. I remember writing to Judie Brown, appealing to her to lead a pro-life movement that would have some teeth. An all-out economic strike, as I recall. Alas, the appeal seemed to fall upon deaf ears. But now it hits me that, almost without realizing it, I've kept my own counsel. This weird way of life that I've begun to live is, by design, a dropping out of the mainstream. I am on strike!

An awfully puny strike. But here's the deal: Does it please you, Lord? If so, that's good enough.

0131

Cloudy, mild, as I bike to church. Arriving back home, Lenore is already here with Lincoln. Soon Sandy drives up as well, bringing some treasures sent up from Jack. Give them all a tour of my little homestead, share a simple meal of soup and fixings, when Larry & Linda unexpectedly drive up, too! Six of us in my little kitchen, talking of Catholic and counter-cultural things... a delightful way to spend the Lord's day.

A reminder of Paul's vision of the Church: a body with many members, each one fulfilling a specific function, all working together and appreciating one another's gifts and unique contributions. Not everyone can do what Lincoln is doing. Not everyone should. Not everyone can do what Jerry is doing. I think of my angst of a few days ago. Be content.