Is it already Thanksgiving? It is. Stephen here, in this fourth week of November, two-thousand and sixteen, anno Domini (in the year of our Lord)—as history is written. The last column was posted a lifetime ago. On November 7th, Ted talked about Halloween, bobbing for turnips, the Day of the Dead, Before the Flood, and the upcoming vote. The weather was hot—shorts, t-shirts, swimming in the pond even—and now the tomatoes are finally frozen. Last night I even covered our kale with a bedsheet. Soon I will open up my box of winter clothes and start wearing long underwear, though in…read more >
My life is also always changing—Stephen here—and I struggle to strive and bend and break and go with the flow, roll with it as the stars rise and fall and disappear into the moon, the sun, the rain, and the thunder.
After the long winter and few guests, it felt nice to open the doors and welcome people in.
“Yesterday I saw a flock of birds heading north. Their season has ended; their sojourn in the South is over and it is time, they know, to return to spring and fall in to the re-burgeoning of life again.”
We claim to know a thing or two about natural building; we claim that straw bales can insulate houses as well as, if not better(?), than standard materials; we claim that burning wood can keep us warm in these cold winter months. This week we were tested. And how did we fare?