Besides an ongoing tomato harvest (see this post) — and onions, garlic, beans, squash, kale of various kinds — we’ve now got lots of kiwis, for the first time since the kiwi vines were planted, in hopes they would eventually create a (now extremely thick) canopy over the front steps. When was that? Five years ago? Late this spring hundreds of tiny white flowers appeared above, and over the last month we’ve seen the vines begin to shed their leaves, spiced with tiny kiwis, dropping to the steps one by one, usually unnoticed, and soon squished.
But the kiwis were so abundant that we finally took them seriously, and Marita hauled a ladder up the stairs to harvest them.
But, the kiwis really didn’t want to come down before they fell, so we let them stay up there.
Meanwhile, on the back patio, besides Thursday Community Dinner, several people decided to do art. Besides Joseph, I’m not sure who; but I did I happen to catch a glimpse . . .
. . . and then decided to get closer, take a pic from the other side, this one including the beautiful, yellowed vintage wedding dress Aislinn is refurbishing before she puts it up for sale.
Here’s a beautiful vine that, when I planted it, I thought was a bean but it’s now producing what looks like moon flowers?
Nature loves surprises. As were we surprised when, this morning, after 24 hours of sporadic thunderstorms, some of the kiwis finally let go.
The three “finalists” for our three open rooms will all attend our August 25th Thursday Community Dinner, so that will be fun!
Meanwhile, for last Tuesday work party, Mike, the new neighbor from down the street who wants to work with us, arrived right on time at ten AM. At first we put him to work with others in the main garden cleaning up debris to be composted. Then Marita said she wanted to make a new compost pile. Did anyone want to join her? Instantly, eagerly, Mike accepted. So they both rolled the full wheelbarrow back to our newly re-situated compost area and went to work . . .
. . . with Marita instructing, Mike layering.
Here’s the main garden harvest for that morning. Keep in mind that we have four other gardens, also producing continuously at this point.
And then, just this morning, new beans starting! Overnight!
What do we do with the surplus? Give share the abundance.
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 . . .
We seem to be getting more leary of quickly forming and moving thunderstorms interrupting our weekly Community Dinners outside on back patio. This time, Annie, Marita, and Adrian, hosts of this week’s dinner, opted to do it inside at 2615 E. DeKist, just in case it rained . . .
But of course, it didn’t.
Oh well. Once again, as with last week’s dinner, the energy was good, solid, the frequency high. A quickly forming and dissolving good time had by all. As usual, about two hours from start to finish, leaving us all energized, ready to face and even embrace, the coming week.
And of course, with both a “circle up” hand holding and offering beforehand, and wonderful food and drink.
We sat in three groups. Here we are, just getting started.
BTW: Community Dinner regular (and former resident) Dan, on his way here, was interrupted by a phone call from a woman telling him that a good friend of his on a motorcycle had collided with someone in a car. No injuries, but he sure needed Dan’s company to help him calm down. However, when Dan arrived, the family of the also uninjured person in the car he had run into was comforting Dan’s friend! People in Bloomington can be like that. Extraordinarily kind.
On the other hand, Marita and I were returning from the First Friday of the month Art Gallery walk, when we stopped at a red light, only to observe two young white men beating up on each other with a young white woman standing by, at first silent, and then starting to plead in a soft, seemingly half-hearted voice, for them to stop. A serious, violent fight; very energetic and aggressive; aimed to kill. One of them was trying to beat the other head on the cement, when young black man rushed up and tried to pull them apart. Don’t know the outcome, because then the light turned green.
Marita told me afterwards that the three white folks were meth heads. “Did you see her arms? Covered with needle marks.” I did not see this. But it makes sense, given the extreme, mutually aggressive energy. Really alarming.
What is this world coming to?
Whatever happens next, let us focus from the heart on love, on community, on connection. Let us each raise our own personal frequency enough to be islands of safety and calm in the increasingly turbulent cultural, political, and economic maelstrom that threatens to blow the entire world to smithereens.
Our weekly Community Dinner, planned as usual for outside on the back patio, ruptured early on. As the three houses rotate dinner duties, at 6:00 pm new resident and housemate Adam and I met to clean up the patio. We swept the floor, spread out the table cloths, brought out the silverware, plates, and cups, napkins, water, etc. Joseph from next door came out to light all the tiki sticks (mosquitos love mid-summer); friends and neighbors started to trickle in . . . then more and more, each one bearing food or drink! Final count was 25, though, as usual, they didn’t all arrive on time. We were about ready to “circle up” before eating when, oh no . . . a rain drop! Then another and another. Several of us had checked the weather before hand, just to make sure. Yes, thunderstorms weren’t due until late evening, plenty of time for our leisurely dinner outside.
Now Adrian checks again with his phone. Oops! An enormous green cloud rapidly approaching Bloomington on the radar.
Instantly, we shifted focus. Within three minutes we had cleared the entire area, including the tablecloths, and regrouped inside this Overhill house. Only one trip for each person needed. Talk about team spirit!
A few minutes later we regrouped again, to circle up. Amazingly enough, neighbor Mariella actually got a photo of this part of the evening, our circle winding through the living room into the kitchen.
Rather than the usual circle up, where I ask someone present to give the blessing, this time there were two items to be addressed before that. First, it was the day after Daniel’s birthday, so we all sang him what has become our song, for birthdays and other special occasions. (I first heard this heartfelt song at one of the Crones Counsels, years ago.)
How could anyone ever tell you
You are anything less than beautiful.
How could anyone ever tell you
You are less than whole?
How could anyone fail to mention
That your loving is a miracle,
How deeply you’re connected to my (our) soul.
Next, what I had already communicated to the group with the emailed invite, that this regularly scheduled Thursday Dinner happened to fall on the same day as the July New Moon, July 28. As an astrologer, I wrote about that here, and talked a bit about its strong, expressive energies as we stood holding hands. Plus, Joseph had arranged a beautiful altar in honor of this New Moon in Leo.
And finally, the blessing, which Mariella offered, beginning with a pregnant silence, in honor of the New Moon. An unusually beautiful blessing, it just poured out of her.
Here she is later, with Dan.
Here’s feisty Muriel, mother of neighbor Devin, currently visiting Bloomington.
Lots of us spilled into all three public rooms in this house.
Former housemate Ethyl grabbed both me and my ipad at one point, pointing it at us . . .
The entire evening, though somewhat raucous — as an astrologer, I had said “it’s time for full-on Leo personal expression, time to be who you really are!”— and boy did the energy pump. Lots of love, lots of laughter.
