April 6, 2015
Nearing the end of the dry season, and about to go into “primavera” or local spring.
We have about a week before the planting rains begin, and about a month before they become consistent. At this point we have been without rain for over a week, but have managed to get most of the seeds planted. Tami was worried that it might not rain, and that the seeds would go bad etc. and I had to reassure her, and Beto the neighbor backing me up, that we would get rains within a week, and after that the plants would get rain enough to grow etc. The change to “invierno” here is like clockwork, you can set your watch by it. And it is more consistent than the “last frost date” so many gardeners in the north live to plant by.
We do have some hard corn and squash coming up, just off of the residual soil moisture and the dew. And I have planted maybe five different types of stuff in the squash and cucumber family, also three kinds of beets, and parsnips and carrots, have planted hard red wheat, rye and oats, celery, radishes, etc., but am waiting to plant the salad greens, and the herb seeds.
One of my worries is how much of this seed will actually sprout, as its two years old due to being delayed so long on the trip etc. I really want to grow pumpkins and Indian corn, and just have to wait a couple weeks to find out if it was all for nothing. We do have more seed, but it is old too. And we are working through it from least likely to slightly more likely to sprout. And its not like we can just go to the store and get new. All they have here is hybrids. It’s a way to scam the people into buying new seed every year.
Anyway, we are finishing up on the heavy work in the garden, this morning I had to change a flat on the truck, and Tami was battling the brush clumps alone, and took out three huge grass clumps that are really hard, with her little pick hoe. It took her about an hour and a half.
I changed the inside dual, passenger side, aft axle, and also put slime in the outside dual, both flat due to someone leaving lumber with nails in it it the turn around spot that everybody has to use. The boards and nails had weeds growing over them. I think one tube is ruined. And the other can be patched, and it took me a couple of hours work to change, and I will have to spend another morning breaking down the tire and replacing the tube, and if the slime doesn’t stop the leak in the other, another morning breaking it down and patching it. All because somebody had their head up their aft end and didn’t care how they affected others…
Latins seem to be clueless about nails, they will leave them in parking lots, or in boards where children play etc. I was raised in an era and culture where if a guy saw a nail or screw on the ground, he picked it up to prevent somebody from having a flat.
I don’t know how Americans are any more, only been back twice in 20 years. I wouldn’t bet the average person picks up random nails in parking lots etc.
It’s a strange world now. I grew up in an era when many guys worked on their own vehicles etc., and being in a military family in the post world war 2 era, I got to look up to guys who actually did things, and even some who were decorated in WW2. I got to meet them personally, and I saw they were just average good guys, who did the right things no matter what.
When I was little, we lived on an Airbase in Germany, and I used to go on base with my dad to the auto hobby shop where the guys worked on their cars, I had an Olive drab fatigue shirt, and a fatigue ball cap, and some little bosch and lomb aviator sun glasses, and all the guys thought that was great, a little kid dressed to look like they did in their jobs. It got a lot of grins.
And I had my own tool box and tools, some of which were the un-plated tools made during the war.
Now days it’s probably illegal to let kids have tools…
My kids grew up playing with tools.
And my kids fix things for a living.
Anyway, I like working on Whistler the Deuce and a half, because it reminds me of those guys on the bases, who are probably dead by now. Men who knew how to think through problems and get their hands dirty making the machinery of life keep rolling. Honest men, doing honest jobs, and supporting their families. But that was back when America was great, and Eisenhower and then Kennedy were president. Sputnik had sent a shock through the body politic, And the nation rose to the challenge, and soon names like Alan Shepard, and John Glen became household words. I grew during the era that late 50’s Chevys and Fords were the cars of the day. Not something just seen in car shows. I and my sister were home alone listening to the radio, as grade school kids in France when JFK was assassinated, and I remember hearing about Jack Ruby shooting Oswald in school, and knowing in my gut as a grade school kid that something was wrong with that story. Since, I have realized what happened; that there was a coup, and America was no longer a free country, that there was a Junta in power, to whom the death of even millions was a trivial thing in their quest for personal gains. It was the day the world began to end.
And I was there, as just a kid.
These people we have now for talking heads and political figures, they are just the inheritors from that Junta. People whose parents had bloody hands. It’s why I don’t take the American political system seriously, I know it is fake. I was there the day the real system died.
I was there for the Vietnam war, with its death count for corporate profits.
I was there when it ended, with a rout called “peace with honor” at the time, and the POW’s were abandoned rather than Nixon keeping his word about reparations…
Most people today haven’t a clue about these things. As the national memory is erased one generation at a time…
What everyone takes as normal now, is deathly wrong. The culture is a washed corpse, and the funeral directors give their sermons on TV about how great America is.
Nobody has any guts. There are no heroes, even the truth is now considered politically incorrect. People are more into their vanities, than anything decent.
A great country is made up from the cloth of a great people.
And now we are in the twilight of what is America.
Veterans are homeless, Banksters are rich,
And if you are stupid enough to be honest,
Life is a bitch.
I was born in America, on a military base, but I am unlikely to die there,
As I will try to die free.
And that’s why I planted seeds, to grow food. Because I am starting over again, re booting civilization alone at its most fundamental level. Yes the body isn’t buried yet, that was America, but it is beginning to stink. Its statesmen are liars, its Generals are kiss asses, And its companies are greed driven and destroying the planet. Its mothers are spoiled children of the nanny state, and its children are little minds with brand names for thoughts.
What are its men?