Friend Ben Herr and Elisha were out in the garden Sunday AM early to harvest more potatoes and onions —

— when they came across a sweet surprise in amongst the potato detritus . . .

A wren’s nest, we think.

Meanwhile, another surprise, lining my weedy driveway as if they had scoped it out and landed, one by one by one.

SURPRISE LILIES, which we can always expect, and yet be surprised by each time, in either late July or early August.

Elisha had another work party scheduled (which more folks had signed up for, including a new neighbor who saw our sign and wants to join in), for 7 PM Sunday evening, but the continuing extreme heat and humidity squelched that idea. No problem. We got the potatoes and onions; the rest can wait until next Sunday’s work party.

Speaking of signs (see earlier posts), I have a notice up on our sign that says we have two rooms available in two of the three houses in August. Also have advertised both a bit elsewhere.

Elisha asked if either one has been taken.

“NO! Nobody has even looked!” Another surprise. (Even though, on Next Door, literally hundreds of people had checked it out, with one of them saying it’s the most interesting rental he’s seen in a long time.)

“But then, I’m glad to live alone for awhile (It’s been 20 years since the last time I lived alone). Plus, the other room won’t be emptied out until September. And furthermore, we want to make very sure that we are compatible with whoever wants to move in.”

We then segued into discussing the situation of experimental communities nationwide:

Those who tend to be attracted are odd ducks, don’t fit into the usual lifestyle (whatever that is, these days, since “nuclear family” detonated years ago). And, interestingly enough, most of those who contact us are from outside Bloomington, hear about us through the Intentional Community website (ic.org).

Some of those people are not ideal, I concluded. “Remember the woman (I won’t repeat her name) who . . .”

“Oh yeah,” Elisha nodded vociferously.

She found us through ic.org and lasted a few months, but we had to get the police before she would leave.

“Actually,” said Ben, I’ve been in a lot of intentional communities, and this one is pretty good! Not many weird people here. Usually, there is one or two, and they can wreck a community.”

Elisha: “That’s how I found this place, through ic.org!  . . . I’m weird!”

Me: “Hell, I’m weird. Each of us is weird; we’re all weird.”

Uproarious laughter ensued.

Me: “so we constantly need to parse what’s good weird and what’s bad weird.”