Fowl Weather Friends

People tell me that the Thistle Farm part of FPR&TF is self explanatory but where in the heck did Flying Pig Ranch really come from...

Pigs!

PIGS, I tell ya! Right here on the ranch...

Flying Pigs!  That's what they are, just flocks and hordes and swarms of flying pigs.  I fill the bird feeders everyday and now they are out there complaining that I haven't put out more fare today.

There are three kinds of Friends.

1. ) The cliche "fair weather friend" connotes one who sticks with you in the best of times.

2.) Conversely, a "Foul weather friend" is one who sticks with you through the bad times as well.

3.) Our Fowl Weather Friends

They were scarcely seen in September and October but when the real winter of November returns so do the Flying Pigs.  They couldn't be bothered to visit during the bounties of the fall harvest.  With morning temps at right around freezing the pigs are now flocking to the feeders.  Opportunists I tell you.  Flying Pigs!  Right here on the ranch ...

harvest feast buffet

winter wheat has slept

red tail hawk looms large

People have asked me ...

... how is retirement?  I'll have to get back to you on that. I'm still working on the finer points.

Late night visitors

Geography Bias

Geography Bias

These are the lessons that we should be teaching our smallest children.

https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/1e7f582d478a4b99bd0c70fffeac4c8b?utm_source=join1440&utm_medium=email&utm_placement=newsletter

The Ritual of Habit

As autumn turns I have noticed one of the comforts of drinking coffee. Or rather, I have noticed the lack of such comforts having given up not just the habit of coffee but all caffeine. It was a simple comfort, a ritual. A steaming cup of hot liquid clutched on a cold morning. Warmth to off-set the chill.

Then I rediscovered Tea. Yeah, yeah, alright, Herb Tea. Specifically caffeine-free herbal brews. Those strange concoctions that my on-again-off-again vegan friend used to insist I try. Flowers and rose hips and Chamomile and ... I dutifully complied. There might have been one or perhaps two ulterior motives that turned me from the dark roast side, if only temporarily.

The flavors of those days return. The luxurious times. Soaking in the exuberance of youth. A time of innocence, warmth and comfort.

Warmth to off-set the chill.

I lost a Charm

Charms and Talismans are empowered by our investment in them.  We choose to, in turn, try to possess both the object and the empowerment we attribute to them.

I lost a Charm.  It seems like a week ago, maybe longer.  The power that I had given the charm was a small portion of my Joy.  The little piece of Joy that I lost was akin to the feeling of surprise and elation that a small child has seeing "magic" for the first time.  Two weeks earlier or so I lost a Talisman.  I had empowered it as a symbol, a vessel that would hold the record of personal times.  I thought of it as a snapshot of my personal history, just a few frames.  Yet it was a physical symbol.  And it was mine.

I had just gone through a sufficient amount of "Acceptance" - the last level of grief - to even consider writing the obituary for Thelonious "Chip" Munk.  I would, of course, focus on the circle of life.  The inevitability of death, following birth.  I would also reminisce about being a small boy at the grand parent's cottage hand feeding peanuts to a chipmunk.

Knowing that small rodent-like creatures do not fare well in areas frequented by predators, it was easier to accept the loss of Thelonious.  Losing, or perhaps just misplacing, the small black notebook that contained recipes, old Gin Rummy scores, future dreams, and a High School Nerd had-to-have; a circular slide rule in its own pocket protector.  Even though I have not seen it longer than Thelonious I still insist on carrying it around with me.  I am ever watchful out of the corner of my eye to spot the worn plastic seams the tiny 6-ring binder.

In each case I am still trying to possess the Charm and the Talisman.  

So I didn't expect how wonderful ... and how very bittersweet ... it would be, after more than a week, to see Thelonious perched on the porch railing waiting for the peanut pile to be replenished.  It was very enjoyable to see her/him alive. But it was contrary to my Acceptance (rationale) of my loss.

When I saw Thelonious on the rail I recognized my desire to possess my Charm.

I do not need to invest in Thelonious.  I do not need to empower Thelonious.  She/He is discreetly perfect  in their own right.

When I saw Thelonious on the rail I recognized my desire to possess my Talisman.  Then I recognized that my Talisman was possessing my desire.  Why do I invest in any object that possesses me?  Why do I empower any object?   I recognize my desire to possess my little black notebook.  I recognize my little black notebook is possessing my desire.

let things be lost

let things be

things be

be

peace

Buoyed by the river of life

 Ancient wisdom: Stand on the banks of a river and watch the bodies of your enemies float by.

For Your Consideration

Buoyed by the river of life, celebrate each bank as it passes.

 This is not a panacea.  This is the work of living.  This is the living of life.

Swimming in any river, however buoyant, is still a great deal of orientation.  We have to find out where we are now.  Then decide where we are headed.  In what direction will our Journey, Walk, Steam, Retreat, et al take us.  

We quickly realize the importance of active navigation.  If we rely only on Life's river we will be not so gently tumbled through rapids. We could easily be thrown against boulders.  Yes, there are rapids and boulders in everyone's life yet we are empowered to make healthy and wise decisions. 

Making and then acting on our good decisions takes discipline.  My working definition is: Personal Accountability demonstrated over a significant amount of time.  We cannot just dip our big toe into the river and expect to have an epiphany.  A second takes a second, a minute takes 60 seconds, etcetera.  Time takes time.  A significant amount of time takes a significant amount of time.

In order to maintain a Stay-The-Course attitude it requires stamina.  For me this means prolonged physical as well as mental/intellectual activity.  The work I am doing right now, writing this.  This is the work that each of us does everyday.  This is the day-to-day living of our everyday lives.  This is the ability to endure, to get up in the morning, make my bed and then move on with ... the work of everyday life.

I told you, 'This is not a panacea.'  That was just the Buoyed by the river of life part.  Now let's look at the celebrate each bank as it passes part ...

The wandering mendicant and his young acolyte.

In their journey the old man and the young man came to a river crossing.  There they found a young girl standing patiently, looking at the far shore.  Without hesitation the old man approached the girl and asked, "Do you wish to cross the river?"

The girl said that she did.  At once the old man picked her up and carried her across the river.  Reaching the far shore he set the girl down gently and waited for the young man.  The acolyte hastened to cross.

After the men had traveled on some distance the younger man became vexed.  He pointedly asked, "I thought we were not supposed to hold members of the opposite sex, particularly children?"

The elder countered gently, "Are you still carrying her?"  He let out a long slow breath and continued, "I let go of her at the river bank."

 Even if the moment of the bank seems harsh we are called to celebrate its passing.  We are asked to recognize the transient nature of events, on the bank, and then let go of them as we pass by ... Buoyed by the river of life.

MEN, You are no longer allowed...

 

Bucket List #...1

 View of the night sky from a no-ambient light setting.

I remember as a kid, yeah yeah, so it's true I was a kid - Thanks Rad Bradbury, staring up from a lush hay field and seeing only the night sky.  The Milky Way was clear and distinct.  Even the smallest items moving across the night sky flashed like diamonds.

All science was ...

All science was once magic. 

- Anonymous

... slaunters in *HIC* ...

 Slaunters in *HIC* ... stumbles over in the corner shadows ... unfolds, refolds a flurry of the New York Times ,,, muttering where's the darn crossword section ... jugglinging paper cat kites ... patting himself down like a nico-addict lookin for that last ... gotta have something to write with somewhere abouts here.