6-19-18 From a semi-clean kitchen table, with a blessed storm and its dwindling, on writing and homesteading

Thank God for the rain. Always loved the rain, but last year and a half of homesteading, a practical appreciation has developed as well. It mainly means being free from watering, and if the rain relents later, it means I might get a chance to weed in some blessedly cool weather. It’s essential for the plants too. Nothing makes them perk up like the rain.

We took over the community garden in the small town we live by, Milo. Just an acre lot in the town that we can basically do whatever we want with. There’s no water though, but we do get some volunteers from Future Farmers of America to weed a couple times this year.

We’ve decided we won’t likely do it again next year. The process of simplifying and focusing on the small things, down to individual plants at a time, is teaching us to focus on our home and land exclusively. Our selves exclusively. We’re learning to see stress as a warning sign of potential failure, meaning that any level of stress should be addressed and eliminated and not just carried around, endured. Giving up, stopping, is sometimes the best thing you can do.

Moving to the rural homestead has made simplifying a necessity. There is so much to do that you can’t really be bothered with the abstract nonsense. It’s part of why the writing has been put on the back burner. I’ve started several posts, but failed to publish any, because I would have a reoccurring moment of sneering and shaking of the head, at the phoniness, the bullshit I was writing…

Paradox abounds. Tons of energy to write, nothing particularly eventful to write about. Busy eventful life, no desire, reason, to write. Thinking writing is like the rain though for me. Overtime I started needing it. The internal stream becomes too forceful, and demands to be let out.

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