The Native Iowan

It is a gentle, wet, chilled Sunday morn here in Morosa Valley. I woke to a light rain on the roof. Over the last few hours the rain has increased steadily. The land sings under the rain. The cattle bear the beating of the rain drops stoically. Heads down, they move slowly as they continue to graze.

I have not moved far this morn. Out of bed, make a cup of tea, wrap in a blanket, watch the daily bluez.

Of course, the main buzz is about this past few week’s of supreme court nominations and associated political intrigue and utter bullshit.

WTF? What are we coming to? We used to know which media sources were bullshit and which were dependable. Not any more. There is little NEWS these days. Its mainly contrivance and manipulation.

And it gets worse… We used to know that rumours and innuendo and unprovable claims were not something to be feared. We knew we had a system where burden of proof was that of the accuser.

Not any more.

Sadly, not any more.

In many ways the genie is out of the bottle. The box has been opened. The plague is upon us. No one is safe. Never a again. Sleep shall be shallow. Rest shall be infrequent. Get used to looking over your shoulder.

That girl you kissed and placed a clumsy hand on when you were 16 has your number. That friendly “streak” you did at the home-coming game in 1975 is now evidence you are a predatory pervert. That woman you terminated for theft in 1990 can now totally screw you.

No one is safe or secure or not suspect.

Do not ever rise too high, amass too much, or allow your name to go public. Not unless you have the money for a damn good lawyer.

It really pisses me off. All this expensive circus. All this distraction.

And it scares me too. I am a believer in the “prestidigitation” (it is a word look it up) nature of politics. The slight-of-hand that gets us looking at the wrong cup and missing the pea and losing the 25cent wager.

But, the stakes are much higher now.

When I see so much energy spent on distraction I wonder what is really going on behind the curtains.

So sad…

Enough on the BS of the day. I prefer to think about happy things…

Last day of the month. 9th month of the year gone. Is that happy? The fact that the year is rushing past and I am getting older with every tick of the tock? Maybe. Maybe, yes, very much. Life is grand and glorious.

Its about 3pm, Sunday afternoon. I am on the farm by myself.  Joe went to visit his mother. Gracie went back to Palmwoods yesterday. I have not been outdoors much today. Spent the morning wrapped up in a blanket. Went to town between rains for some supplies. back home and under my blanket now.

It is a relaxed and calm Sunday.

Though I talk a lot of the rigors of farming, it ain’t all that bad… The house is situated in a manner where you can check out the paddocks from the house. Basically 360 views of the property from the house. So I can oversee the stock without really getting my feet wet.

The four “dry cows” in the south paddock are OK. The nine “weaners” along the lane-way are fine. The eighteen new imports (9 cows each with calf) out front in the richest, greenest paddock are more than hapi. The main herd is out-back and out of sight. I am sure they are fine. I think they’ll be back under the trees, out of the rain.

And life is indeed grand n glorious.

I have a nice pot of stew cooking… Potatoes n beast n pumpkin n veggies. It’ll suit the chilly weather well. I’ll let it stew for a few hours and enjoy it much later. I like my stew to be almost soup, but thick n chunky. This one will be killer when ready. And will last for several days. I am an economy cook and eater. Good food that I’ll add more good food to each day until its nothing but a chunky gravy I’ll add curry to and have on toast.

Had a surprise visit the other day from Meredith Sheers and Digby Williamson.

Meridith and Digs were Aussie-Vols in the early 80s. Worked for SIDT and lived at Kuzi, Kolombangara. I worked as the “Community Education Officer” for the West those days.

Mer n Digs n I toured the west as only the young and wild can. Small canoe with a small engine. Going from one large village to another holding meetings/ discussions on matters such as population, gender equity, child education, sanitation, and more. Sleeping in community rest houses on pandanus mats. Eating whatever the village folks shared.

Those were the days, my friends…

Golly, It was great to see them after something like 34 years… Gracie allowed us to attack her stash of “Hard Navy Biscuits” to celebrate the event.

And the beat goes on… and life on the land is fan-fucking-tastic… 

Big smiles

More later