0142

Another of the young chicks got weak and died late yesterday, so there are just 3 new ones left now. These three seem healthy, as do the six older ones.

It's hot and muggy / buggy, and I let both groups of chicks out; they appear happy, pecking & scratching for bugs (Can dumb animals be 'happy'? Or 'unhappy'? Or are such states unique to humans?) Anyway, I bury the dead chick, and bury a few more potatoes as well. Then I work up a good sweat mowing the yard and driveway, and even caulk & paint a bit on the south wall where I had patched around replacement doors and windows in chilly weather.

Pat drives up to let me know that tonight is 'open book' at the town hall. I wonder why the assessor didn't reveal this to me. So, early evening I corral the chicks back into their respective homes, and bike over. Two other parties are ahead of me; they sound angry and frustrated... I peruse the 'open book', and easily find that a relatively small number of properties, including mine, have been assessed way above neighboring land, for no apparent reason. So, when my turn comes, I ask why. The assessor feigns surprise, asserting that adjoining land should have similar assessed values. But the book clearly shows otherwise. She asks to see what I'm talking about. When I randomly point to my neighbor Cathy's place in the book, her 'surprise' turns to 'shock', and she says, "Oh, my! I guess that parcel needs to be reassessed higher!"

Now I'm really fuming. "So, that's your ploy, is it? Turning neighbor against neighbor, when you know damn well that none of this land is worth what you're claiming! Just what's in it for you?!?" She sweetly tosses me the dry bone she has been dispensing to others: a labyrinthine appeal process as a token to democracy. I have no stomach for this, and just walk out and bike back home. Do bureaucrats realize how their heavy-handed programs and taxes can crush peoples' dreams? Do they care? How is this land suddenly triple the assessed value in one year? What becomes of the plain life if the county forces me to choose between going back to a payroll job or confiscating my land?

I'm exhausted. I check on both sets of chicks, who are settled in for the night, just an occasional soft 'cheep' or ruffle of wings. They know nothing of assessors.

0141

I awake around 2 am. It's raining outside, and cool in the house. The chicks are crying in their box upstairs. I go up, scolding myself, and turn on their lamp for warmth, then back to bed.

Upon rising for the day, I check on them again. Don't know if it was the chill, or if something else is wrong, but one chick is dead, and another very weak. What a lousy mother hen I make.

It's still cloudy, but has stopped raining, so I bike to 10:30 Mass. After Mass, Larry and Linda want to chat over refreshments. I excuse myself after just a brief conversation, explaining that I have a sick chick at home to look after. Linda raises her eyebrows, and I have to laugh when I realize what I just said. Assuring Linda that I'm referring to a literal chick, I take my leave.

It's sunny & warm by now, and I let the new chicks run outside in the grass to peck and scratch and get some sun & air. I even feed them some cut-up earthworms, which they devour. Try to nurse the sick one, too, but it dies mid-afternoon. My only resemblance to a mother is that I'm not getting much rest with all this. Well, the remaining four seem vigorous. I'll leave their lamp turned on full-time from now on.

0140

Make a call from the pay phone to ascertain that my new Araucana chicks have arrived. So I drive into town to pick them up. I'll buy some fencing, too, as the bigger chicks already show a definite delight in scratching up newly seeded garden plots.

My carefully composed letter to the assessor prompted only a cold form response denying my request, so I decide to stop at the assessor's office while I'm in town. But the whole place is locked up, on a Friday, no one there, no way to even leave a note. Figures.

Well, at least the chicks are a delight. Six eager and hungry little hatchlings, cheeping noisily. I stop at Lenore's to show her, and to mow her grass and share in a quick lunch. A couple quick errands at the library and grocery, then back home with my new charges. These will be a bit more work; they'll require warmth and general vigilance until they're feathered.

Back home, I set up a box for the Araucanas in the house, start installing some of the new fencing around the southeast corner, and spend the evening composing another letter to the assessor, appealing to common sense and democratic principles. This exhausts me more than working, and I'm too tired to even take a bath before bed.

0139

Hard frost during the night. Lost all uncovered tomatoes and pumpkins. Potatoes will recover, I think. Even the hardy peas were damaged. Well, that's the risk of planting early. Nothing to do for it but start again. So I spend the day replanting pumpkins, and spot replanting of green beans that had emerged and died. Surprisingly, the newly emerged sweet corn looks OK. So I go ahead with the 2nd planting of corn, too.

The mail brings a new tax assessment; they have tripled the per-acre assessment of the land value, with no explanation why. Do they think this is a platinum mine? I suppose there's some kind of an appeal process; wonder how complicated that might be. In any event, a tripled assessment is neither just nor affordable, so I start to compose a letter to my friendly assessor. I feel tired.

0138

Another little shower during the night, then sunny & pleasant today. I wash clothes, including my heavy bedroll. Can't really get it through the wringer, so I rinse it outdoors in the clean garbage can, wringing by hand and muscling it up onto the lines to dry.

Then turn my attention to patching together the inside of the chicken coop, especially the big gaps around the bottom and other spots that could admit predators or winter winds. Limited time & resources make me adopt - shall we say - somewhat diminished standards. That is to say, I'm cobbling this together with whatever scraps of wood and metal and other material that come easily to hand. I stand back and cluck my tongue at my handiwork - a real Dogpatch look, I have to admit (thinking of Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae and their rickety sheds). But it's functional.

Late afternoon, Mike drives up as promised for a little visit. I greet him with "Welcome to Dogpatch!" Mike looks around at my coop, tarpaper pump house and wood shed, and replies, "I like it. I like Dogpatch."

As I show Mike around, I notice the first few beets are emerging, and some wheat and oats in front. The chicks come back after a full day of scratching & pecking, and appear a little confused by the interior remodeling, but quickly settle down OK.

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.

0130

Sunny, breezy, pleasant. Clean up debris behind chicken coop and spade some more back there, mostly breaking new sod. Also weed a good part of the strawberry patch; they should be waking up soon.

One year since I bought this place. How'm I doing? Heard from Lenore that Jack's friend Lincoln will be in the area to stand trial over an E.L.F. protest, and would like to stop out here. OK with me; I like company.

0129

Warm, breezy and partly sunny as I wash and hang 3 loads of laundry. Then I resume moving the coop, using the big screw jack that was in Dad's garage.

More reflection as I work, continuing the thread of thoughts from Sunday on the dual goal here. First, the ideological motive: forge a counter-cultural alternative to the consumerist orgy of economic and political activity that comes with such a bloody price tag. Second, the pragmatic: find concrete ways to survive the seemingly inevitable collapse of the fragile and corrupt system.

I feel alone in this endeavor. Do other Christian and Pro-Life folks consider these things? Do they see the need for concrete actions besides the usual prayers and protests and letter writing? Where are they?

0128

Way too soon to start any garden work, but mild enough weather to leave my house unheated for a few days, so I decided to visit Mom last Sunday. Drove to Mankato, did a little work around her house, Phyllis & Ray came over a couple times, some good family time. Mom told me to look in the garage and basement for any of Dad's construction and garden tools that I could use, so my little truck bed is packed with all those goodies as I drive back home today.

The ride back home becomes time for reflection. Almost a full year in my homestead. The cultural contrast is now apparent; the underlying assumptions as well as the concrete details of daily life are foreign to most folks.

I dearly love my family, but struggle to communicate the purpose and dream that drives me. What am I trying to do here? And why?

So I again rehearse the two-fold motive behind this little enterprise: to resist subsidizing the abortion holocaust via taxes, and to seek a positive antidote to the consumerism-fueled culture of death.

My thoughts also turn to the recent Y2K threat, and the more selfish and pragmatic motive: to survive the seemingly inevitable and imminent collapse. Y2K didn't materialize, but the house of cards is far from robust. The moral rottenness has led to general decay and instability in so many ways, it seems amazing that the system keeps working at all. Just one little crisis...

Well, all these reasons do coalesce nicely in the plain life. It's good to keep my focus. Just wish I could communicate these ideas better.

I arrive home OK. We got snow while I was gone, but it's now warm & sunny, spring-sloppy. The kids are out in the road. I walk down to get my mail and get into a snowball fight with them. The house is chilly, but didn't freeze. One tomato seedling has emerged, and a few onions.

0127

Cloudy, threatening sky as I rise, and drive into town for various errands: try unsuccessfully to find a replacement part for my broken bottle jack, and can't even find a non-Chinese new jack to buy.

Well, OK, forget that for now, at least I can get bread, eggs, etc., and go to Mass with Lenore and get our ashes, thence to the dentist to have the throbbing tooth pulled, then more errands with Lenore and a simple meal together before driving back home at dusk.

All through the day, it has been raining steadily, probably over an inch, and turning colder. The forecast is for snow and a return to winter. The wind is howling outside as I turn in early tonight... a fittingly dreary beginning of Lent.

0126

The ground is thawed on top, so I decide to try moving that chicken coop. Come-along, chain, bars, both vehicles as anchors... I succeed in moving the whole thing 3-4 feet to the north. At that rate, it will take a week to move it 20 feet! Well, I think now that it's broken loose and I have a method for doing it, a couple more days should suffice. Am removing the old rotten floor boards a few at a time, otherwise do not seem to be harming the structure.

Tooth still bothering me. Guess I should arrange to have it yanked out sometime - need to make a trip to town soon, anyway.

Warm & sunny this afternoon - into 50's maybe close to 60° - so I set the canner full of water out on the back steps, and the sun beating on the black enamel actually tempers the water quite nicely. I still make a small fire this evening (first since Wednesday) to heat the water further for my bath, and to warm my soup.

0125

Leap century day - I'll have to reset my watch's date.

Very warm - close to 60°, sunny, breezy - so that I strip to my waist for awhile as I cut the trees felled yesterday, and become sluggish and sleepy. I open up the beehive, to see how they're doing - and they're not doing. No life whatsoever, just thousands of bees frozen in various positions, like so many wind-up toys that stopped wherever they were when their motors wound down. Did they starve? Too cold for too long? Did I do something wrong? Or fail to do something needed? Depressing.

No fire tonight. I cut up & cook 3 small pumpkins that are starting to spoil, leaving only 3 more left to process. Read my mail, including a note from Lenore telling me that the wood-fired boiler is still for sale.

0124

As I hang the first load, I think I must have chosen the worst possible day to do laundry: chilly, cloudy, damp, calm, and even snowing slightly. But I just want clean sheets, with or without cooperative weather.

Now I'm hanging the last load, and a breeze has come up, it's getting warmer, the sun is about to appear... looks like I've lucked out, after all.

After lunch, I go back to the south woods to fell a few more trees for firewood. I come across a small ash that appears to be recently dead, still standing up, the wood still pretty sound. Or so it seems. A few blows with the ax, I hear a crack!, and look up reactively toward the sound, just in time to catch a falling branch squarely on my forehead. Ow! It bleeds pretty good, but otherwise I'm fine. Here's another lesson for this rookie to learn: be careful about dead tree branches. I just hope I don't bleed tonight on my clean bed linens.

Back at the house, I get the dried laundry in, and get the mail. A letter from my friend Jack and another from my niece. Some points are raised regarding consumerism, and some other moral and political issues; I would like to respond, after having digested and thought about it.

0123

Snowing steadily when I rise - big, light, fluffy flakes - and looks like an all-day snowfall, so I busy myself with miscellany indoors...

I patch a couple holes in the dining room walls (my main warm room, where the stove resides), restock the household pails of water, cut some dead wood into kindling, then sit down and write a letter to Mom. Should try to visit her sometime. The thing is, my newfound freedom comes with a trade-off. Don't have to drive anywhere in inclement weather such as this, don't have to punch a time clock, don't have most of the headaches and pressure that most working folks do, because I don't have to make money. But the trade-off is this: I'm more or less tied to this homestead, ain't I? I can't just take time off, take trips like other folks do. Day trips to town is about all I can manage. Besides the expense and the use of fossil fuel, if I were to drive down to Mankato for a few days in winter, my house would freeze. Can't leave in the summer, either, or the garden suffers. It's a conundrum.

Upstairs, I finally finish framing that closet for the southeast room. Then, deliberately take time for some quiet meditation. The aim is sanity: do a few things, slowly, no panic or mania, just do what I can do and remain even-tempered, by God's grace.

This evening, I get creative and use the wood stove to cook my supper (beans in broth, tea), and then to melt some leftover chunks of paraffin along with my own beeswax into 3 small candles.

The snow is still falling, and is getting quite deep. I'll have a fair chunk of shovelling to do.

0122

Unseasonably mild weather - low 30's, cloudy, calm. So I continue as I did yesterday & Monday taking some trees from the south woods and swamp. I've been felling and limbing the trees with the ax, and dragging the pieces back to the yard, keeping in mind the 'interest only' rule (or: 'never touch the principle' principle) learned from a forest management guru recently...

The analogy is of managing a fair amount of wealth in such a way that you never run out. You invest the capital, and only draw on the dividends or interest. The principle is never touched, so you never run out. Just so with a forest or other natural wealth. Take the surplus only, and never strip the principle, and you need never run out.

My woods are fairly young - 50 or 60 years since being logged clear, so most of the trees are 4" to 7" trunk diameter, and are still a good distance from climax growth, growing much too thickly in many places. So I scan the canopy above looking for trees that are too crowded. I take a tree here, a couple trees there. Sometimes I see a tree that's still standing, but is already dead - probably crowded out. If the wood still looks OK for burning, I take that tree. Or a tree that was broken in a recent windstorm. Or one that is leaning so badly, it will probably go down soon. The general idea is to take the surplus trees, but leave the woods intact.

By now there's a nice heap of small logs accumulated in the yard, so I plug the 100' cord in, and use the electric chainsaw to cut firewood lengths. This is my compromise, my arbitrary line - I'll hew the trees with hand tools, but the electric chainsaw seems clean and efficient, so I allow it. Then I start stacking in a new place just north of the garage & chicken shed.

Derek & Justin come up as I'm doing that, and we go down after the early dusk and play a little football within range of their yard light.

0121

My work habits and schedule need to become more disciplined. My recent mania to get lots done every day often backfires, and ends up being more fatiguing than anything else. So, I make a point today of simply starting in on the day's work after breakfast, and keep a steady pace going.

Since today is windy & chilly with a little snow & rain mixed in, I continue taping and mudding sheetrock upstairs. I also do some preliminary measuring and cutting for framing a new closet between the southwest bedroom and the bathroom. Then quit at a reasonable hour to build a fire, cook & eat supper, bath, and relax before retiring. Slow & steady gets the job done, and usually just as quickly.

I knew that.

0120

Very cold and windy last night. Instead of lighting a morning fire, I shovel the circle to warm myself, then drive to church. A conversation with Larry after Mass leads me to some introspective thoughts: the ironic contradictions between my zealous idealism and dismal failures.

My earnest desire has long been to accomplish something significant with my life, especially as to eternal realities, or to leave behind a great legacy. This has always seemed a noble aspiration. But then I consider: the ranks of the 'great achievers' include Bill Clinton, Margaret Sanger, Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler...

There is no doubt - my current life is a very small and insignificant one. I spend my days shovelling snow, driving nails, cooking pumpkins, and doing what I must do to survive. This may be God making sure my lofty ambitions don't devour my soul. I ask Jesus: Is my ambition and idealism pleasing to You? The answer (I think): Be willing to be small. Be willing to be great, if that's what He wills.

Right now, Jerry is definitely small.

0119

Snowing steadily when I get up, so I stay indoors and finish soldering the copper pipes for the upstairs bathroom. Fire up the rigged-up pump to supply pressure. To my great satisfaction (and surprise) all joints hold just fine. Guess I'm getting better at sweating copper pipes. Also getting psyched up to build a wood-fired water heating system, and have hot water on tap.

By mid-afternoon, the snowstorm has cleared, so I shovel out the driveway before calling it a day.

0118

Snow during the night, and still coming down when I awake, but mid-morning it stops and begins to clear up, so I go out to clear the driveway and circle. Am comfortable now with the notion of shovelling my own snow by hand. So much so that, when Wayne offers to start plowing with his rig, I respectfully turn him down. It's kinda fun, actually - clean work, good for the body, good for the mind and soul, too. As with all my repetitive chores, I easily let my thoughts wander as I work...

The sharp crack! of a cold tree in the east woods makes me look up. So I stop and look about, breathing the fresh winter air. The dead of winter, and I feel very much alive. Have experienced all the seasons now, and the rhythms of nature that each cycle brings. As I get the house insulated and closed up better, it becomes easier to warm with just a wood stove. The gas company can come take their propane tank away any time - I am confident now that I don't need the furnace. I'm doing it - I'm really living this life that I set out to live. I find this exhilarating - that little ol' me could learn how to survive like this in minimalist fashion. And how good it is to be enjoying the fruit of the earth this time of year - carrots, potatoes, corn, beans, applesauce, herbal tea, etc, etc. (Oh, that reminds me - I should cut up more pumpkins when I get time.)

Done shovelling. Before I go in, I get that nice used casement window from Dick out of the garage, and carry it inside to prepare it for installation. Then I warm up the house, eat my hearty supper with relish, and cut up a couple pumpkins.

0117

What a difference a millennium makes. Yesterday's depression becomes today's mania. I jump right into my work this morning, installing outlet & switch boxes in the kitchen, an outlet in the southwest bedroom, and a little more insulating. Outdoors, I wrap the frazzled wires that I noticed in the rear of the truck, pump water for the house, etc. I even trim my hair & beard before taking my bath late and calling it a day.