the bucks had their first day Out...in the New Back. well, except for BuckWheat, who opted to stay running back and forth along the doe pen expressing himself all day. but the other three did really well.
be sure to click the pic to enlarge
and we just did stuff. then, we have found a good routine for letting everyone else loose every day and there is happiness
and Then, we opened the back passage between the two doe pens. So far, so good. and i feel a lot better not keeping the does seperate and all the little ones love it, running back and forth. they still all seperate themselves at night, to sleep. perfect.
a lot of work for a little boy and his old nana. and in between, we went to Bosque del Apache. They had drained everything in anticipation of the Migration next month when it all will be filled anew. and we looked closely at these "shade houses", how to build them. River willow and Salt Cedar sticks.
Equinox. the tilt of the Earth's axis is inclined neither away nor toward the Sun.
how could this BE?, this perfection of planetary tilt or not? how did it happen? how did it STAY happening, how we COUNT on it staying happening. we even make ........... calendars. i have been affected by the presence of someone not quite 3 who asks with every breath, "Why?" "How?" "What kind?" and it's not to just engage the adult, but he is totally sincere, Real, with his questions. and i don't have to "dumb down" the answers i attempt to give. i tell him everything i know. he listens. sometimes commenting, sometimes just listens and goes off.
the glow. almost dusk. 2 more days. the crickets have begun The Single Note. ALL of them, in a huge circle extending out to forever, sing. Sing the Same Single Note. non~stop. breathing...when/how do they Breathe? there is not a single pause. it is constant. how can this be? Why?
on the right is the beginning of the Goat Thing. a place where they can come and climb, fling themselves off in flight. the floundering grandson made it with no nails, no screws, just tension and balance.
somehow, in Spirit Diaries, Jude Hill's online creative journey
a seed that has waited, dormant, cracked. what i referred to as Unspeakable there, speaks. In this beginning. And as i have believed for so long, once the seemingly unspeakable is given voice, it begins to transform. change. shapeshift. breathe.
There is the Great Law of the Iroquois, the 7 Generations. that speaks of the necessity to weigh every societal decision with the well-being of the next 7 generations. Oren Lyons, Chief of the Onondaga said "What about the seventh generation? Where are you taking them? What will they have?"
Exaggerated by the current campaigning for the presidency, i watch my country with such deep Grief. I feel alienated. I feel helpless. I feel great sorrow at what seems to be the choosing of blind eyes toward the changing planet. The denial of the Wounding.
amidst all the mainstream journalism, i found only this:
"The problem that we are seemingly unable to countenance is the end of growth. Today's system is predicated on the progressive conversion of nature into products, people into consumers, cultures into markets and time into money. We could perhaps extend that growth for a few more years by fracking, deep-sea drilling, deforestation, land grabs from indigenous people and so on, but only at a higher and higher cost to future generations. Sooner or later...we will have to transition towards a steady-state or degrowth economy."
guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/sep/03/debt-federal-reserve-fixation We can't grow ourselves out of debt, no matter what the Federal Reserve does Charles Eisenstein
The great Grief for me is that i don't think it will change. i don't think humanity as a whole is going to choose change, or, if suddenly there is realization that we Must, it will come too late. The planet can sustain only so much.
So, my question to myself is, How do I live, then.? and I Don't Know. Maybe all there is, is to express this Grief, to express the deep and abidingly fierce Love of this Earth in whatever ways i can find. with every breath i am given. Back again to that paraphrase of Clarissa Pinkola Estes
ok. so, giving in to making a fence inside the fence. around the 3 Leaf Sumac, the ever hopeful Russian Olive and Native Olive, one remining clump of Giant Sacaton, and some, it's hard to tell, other native grasses. for sure Side Oat Gramma and Buffalo Grass. Floundering grandson is here for 4 days to connect with his nephew. we work. rain or shine. he pounds in the Tposts, drags those very large and heavy cottonwood rounds over to where there is the beginning of a collection of stuff for the envisioned goat structure. and i have managed to stitch only this.
i had to go back and reread the last post to see where i was...it seems a very long time ago. and i am remembering all the times and years when Everything had to stay in my head because there was no still space to take it out and just be with it. so, this is a good exercise.
Julian. my granddaughter's son. and so, my Great Grandson. he will become 3 at the end of October. we worked on Counting with bamboo and glass beads inbetween cleaning out a goat pen.
a recurring figure. this from the Magic Diaries cloth.
i was going to just make Eyes for a while. but now, this too. but for now it just will happen in my head.