INTERREGNUM . . .

It’s the Sunday of IU move-in week. Thousands of students (and their parents) descend, en masse, into Bloomington Indiana. Easily navigated streets during summer are already clogged. 

Meanwhile, here in Green Acres Permaculture Village, for a few months in early summer we were undergoing an extended period when we didn’t really know what was happening, in terms of new people moving in to replace the ones moving out. For the first time ever, we were about to have four openings (out of nine) in this tiny permaculture paradise in the middle of a suburb. But that quickly faded about ten days ago, when at least eight people (most of whom heard about us first through the ic.org site) called and emailed to see if they could fill one of the three slots we still have open. Usually, we fill open rooms naturally, through meeting people at our weekly Community Dinners, but last week we decided to cancel the dinner, since one resident had come down with Covid and another one (me) with a second wasp attack. Plus, this coming Thursday, many of us will attend the Andreas (former resident, now teaching in Ireland, except in summers) piano concert, Passion and Despair (Brahms), so we’ve cancelled that dinner, too. 

Which meant that the most likely “candidates” all had to make appointments. Will meet them this week.

Here’s how the patio looked last Thursday, forlorn:

Two days ago, an IU student who has just moved to Green Acres neighborhood (into a corner house a block down the street) contacted us to say he just loves what we’re doing, and how can he get involved? So he came over and I gave him “the tour,” much to his delight. From the way he acted, it appears that he holds the same vision we do, of regenerating a sense of shared communion with the land in small urban spaces. A third year undergraduate, he wants to participate in both our twice-weekly work parties and our weekly community dinners. So I put him on the email list.

Then I told him that he could do the same where he lives. Just get to know the nearby neighbors first. “Maybe one of your next door neighbors will be amenable to working with you on a small garden in the area between your two houses,” I told him. “Maybe not. In any case, start slowly, with one small step; watch as the universe rearranges itself in the direction of your intent. Then, with the altered landscape, take another small step . . .”

He was excited. “Oh I’d better go write that down!” 

I asked him what his major is, and he responded, “I’m wavering, between Art and Philosophy . . .”

Here’s another photo, of corn, now spent, entwined with beans on their way up. We had planted squash there too, but the third “sister” didn’t come up.

Yet more beans ‘acomin,” on one of our trellises . . .

Love beans.

July 10, 2022: We Enjoy, and Share the Surplus of, Nature’s Gifts in Summer

Mid-summer. Life is very busy. I’m out in the gardens most days for an hour or two, working either alone or with others. Plus, yesterday, we borrowed neighbor Dave’s truck and transported two giant loads of the “debris” that either falls, is cut, or pulled up around here to Good Earth, a large, well-run local composting operation that has been in business since 1977. 

As we were filling the truck bed for the first time, neighbor Lois stopped by, asked if we could take the pile next to her driveway. Yes, with the second load. In return, she handed us $20, which we could use to help fill Dave’s truck with gas. 

People to people. Connectivity: inside the household, inside our tiny three-home village, inside the neighborhood — and beyond. 

On our way to Good Earth, we passed May’s Greenhouse, which has been in business even longer, since 1965.

Here and there, in the midst of growing corporate conglomeratization of what used to be locally owned and operated businesses, some do still exist, on back roads.

I can remember when we tried to get a “buy local” movement going here. That was probably 15 years ago. We decided that the public wasn’t yet ready. That they wouldn’t grok the idea that money can circulate locally, rather than draining out to large corporations. Fifteen years is a long time. Much has transpired to prepare the public, not the least of which is the growing need for locally grown food. 

Our gardens are so prolific that we also feed neighbors and people served by Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard.

All across this country, local businesses and nonprofits serve local people. Though those who ran the covid plandemic tried to shut small businesses down, it didn’t work. Many are still going. Many more are springing up. 

State-run organizations also help local businesses. Such as the Indiana Small Business Development Center.

As the federal government continues to falter, the need for downsizing it grows. States and localities pick up the slack.

And ultimately, it all comes down to each one of us. We are all sovereign beings, here to express our own unique natures fully into the world. How? Begin small. Begin with what’s lodged in your heart. What would you be doing if there were no obstacles in your way? The universe bends to support those with clear, focused intent. 

Even better: Learn how to think and operate, as much as possible, “below money.” In other words, let us learn from how Nature does it, with each species gifting to others of its surplus and receiving what it needs in return. This is called “the gift economy.”

Here are a few photos I took this morning.

Chicory loves to grow in the cracks, and its bright blue flowers, to me, even more beautiful than those of the robin’s egg.

We’re about to be inundated with bush beans.

I planted these winter squash seeds about ten days ago, and now must wait three months for maturity.

We got corn! Though the intent, to grow the three sisters — corn with beans and squash — did not work out.

A wildflower garden grows atop a hugelkulture bed we constructed this year to cover up a large hole that had caved in (old septic system). Best way to make sure nobody falls into the hole!

More flowers, purple cabbages beyond.

The green cabbages continue to expand . . . and see post from July 5, “Cabbage Bonanza!”.

More . . .

Zucchinis on the way.

Right now and for past few weeks, and on and on, even into next year — huge surplus of kale. I’ve been freezing some and Marita takes some to Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard.

Varieties of kale . . .

Finally, you might be moved to read this book: SACRED ECONOMICS: Money, Gift, and Society in an Age of Transition (2011), by Charles Eisenstein. ‘Cuz we’re there. The transition has arrived. There’s no going back. And the future will be created from grounding the visions of what the majority of humans fearlessly, and relentlessly, dare to intend.

VIDEO: GAPV in context with other “intentional communities”

GREEN ACRES VILLAGE: I participate in a forum with people from diverse “intentional communities”

Green Acres Village, June 12, 2022: Plumbing Our Own and Nature’s Depths

I continue to be amazed at how many permaculturists — even permaculture teachers! — took the jab. Don’t they realize that their own body is an ecosystem? Do they pour Monsanto on their gardens to get rid of a pest? No. They introduce elements in their garden that will help it become more resilient to outside forces.

Let us, as permaculturists, recognize first personal permaculture, sensing our own body as a brilliant outgrowth of Mother Nature, with an immune system that, unless eroded or destroyed, protects us from outside forces. Dr. Zach Bush, M.D., known for his permacultural discussion of the human biome, is someone I have learned much from during the past two years. See this interview with Del Bigtree.

I wonder if the fact that the jabbed-or-not controversy is still simmering, but unremarked, in this town (half of us who live in Green Acres Village are jabbed, half not) has something to do with the fact that our Community Dinners started out so sparsely in April after a four month hiatus. On the other hand, several of last Thursday’s dinner participants went out of their way to tell me they very much enjoyed our conversation. As time goes on, we reach below the surface, more and more, eager to share, learn and enjoy stories from each others’ lives that teach us what is and is not real. 

At the Dinner a week ago, five women huddled in intimate conversation. This week twice as many, and all but two were men! Here’s the single photo I was able to get before my ipad ran out of energy. (Dan and Daniel, though present, are both missing from this photo.)

BTW: speaking of low numbers, Green Acres Permaculture Village now has three openings, to be filled by August 1. If you or anyone you know is interested, then if at all possible, start attending our community dinners so that we can get to know each other.

Here’s the message I put out five days ago on facebook. A number of people have signaled interest, and unfortunately, We’ve already had to say “not a good fit” to four of them. Interviews ongoing. 

Here are a few more current photos, of our “tiny paradise.”

Entrance to back patio where dinners are held, unless it rains.

Both slugs and cabbage moths are trying to get the cabbages. Beer in little cans for the slugs. Or banana peel. Diotomacious earth for the moths. This year, for the first time, the cabbages actually appear to be making heads!

Joseph strung up the peas during Friday’s work party.

Looking southwest from Overhill front porch. But then, turn around and . . .

. . . the 12-foot yurt for the back yard sits in its packing, awaiting the building of the platform.

Finally, though the following two posts don’t address the community aspects of our “tiny paradise” in the middle of a suburb — after all, our motto is, “growing community from the ground up”! — the “ground” part is very much up front and calling us to attention, given the rising costs of especially food and energy, which threaten to decimate our society. As transportation becomes more and more expensive, so will food have more and more to be sourced locally. All the horrors that threaten us now are necessary first steps to transforming our way of life on planet earth. 

The contrast could not be more glaring:

The Food Storage Solution in Your Own Backyard

Pouring Poison and Planting Seeds of Dependency: Big Agriculture Destroys Organic Farming

Plus, a meditation on the loss, and rekindling, of our original connection to the land. 

Where the Horses Sing

Caution, in reference to this beautiful, nostalgic, and yet invigorating essay:  I think we must be very cautious when we talk about “climate change,” given that it is one of the main issues being used to bring in the Great Reset and New World Order, both of which promise to clamp down both humans and the Earth herself into a transhumanist technocratic nightmare where the algorithm rules over all. 

As June begins, 2022: NEW MOON CEREMONY — and AXE WHACK!

CEREMONY

Thanks to podmate Joseph, Green Acres Permaculture Village now has a new tradition: to hold a sacred New Moon ceremony with each lunar cycle. The first one was last Tuesday evening, when several of us gathered with Joseph and three of his co-workers at the local co-op.

Joseph is taking this tradition seriously, ready to document it as the first of many. He’s dedicated a notebook to it, and calls himself “Chicory Joe.” Pay special attention to the wonderful wand he placed on the cover, which he made from a yellow dock root and a crystal. 

To welcome us for the occasion, he set up a table with treats —

and another with ceremonial objects, should any of us choose to bring one. I brought Tarot cards. Others brought crystals. Here he is fussing over that table’s arrangement (unfortunately, I forgot to take a photo) while the rest of us wait for the ceremony to begin.

The ceremony itself was short and sweet. He lit a fire, and then asked each of us to write down whatever we feel we need to let go of in order to usher in the New Moon cycle. Then, he asked us to go around the circle, and listen to each other say something about what we are letting go as we watch the slips of paper thrown into the fire.

Here we are, busy writing.

I was amazed at how quickly and sincerely everyone present got into the spirit of the ceremony, welcoming the new by letting go of the old. 

AXE WHACK!

Podmate Marita, who is basically in charge of compost these days, decided that during our Tuesday morning work party she would whack the old compost structure. If you recall, we’re moving it to the back of the third house. Here’s Dan, sitting on top of the new one.

The old one is being dismantled little by little, and Marita told me later she had great fun getting her aggression out, whacking with an ax. Here she is, heading in . . .

And here she is, having fun.

BTW: for Thursday’s Community Dinner, I brought the salad, featuring a variety of greens from the main garden.