Photosynthesis, Chipping, and Unintended Slapstick

The last three days have been one big chip fest. Phil moved the pigs into a pen around our largest, oldest pile, after we chipped all we could. We were hoping they would nose through the surprising amount of organic matter that remains (decomposing pine needles, some random mud, teeny branches, and such). They’ve not done a great job, though the area AROUND the pile is certainly mucked up now. Ah, well. We gave them their last bag of feed today. Sunday is processing day.

Despite a bit of lingering snow, and despite the massive mud slicks, we moved our chipper into previous pen for pigs and chipped the entire pile. With both Phil and I working, it took us five hours. That was a lot of vibration for him, as he manually fed each sapling and twig. And it was a lot of mountain goat traipsing up and down for me, as I gathered the readily available sticks and brought them within arm’s length for Phil.

And, yes, that really did take just as much time as Phil’s job. Our piles of brush and trees were not terribly efficient, so I have a lot of disentangling to do, and a bit of sawing apart. We were happy to get the chips to spread on the mucky ground. Use that good mulch to sop up the rain and keep the clay from eroding down the hillside.

Photosynthesis: an amazing process. I hold chips in my hand that came from water, sunlight, minerals in the air. Five percent of the mass of a plant comes from minerals in the soil. So 95% of the plant is air, light, and water. Next time you hold a plant, think about that—you’re holding stored sunlight. Amazing.

The power again went out yesterday morning. I have a deadline every other Wednesday, and I had about three minutes left to work on the project before I sent it off for approval when the power went out. I switched computers, and tried to send it from Phil’s, but I was one minute too late: the battery backup on our internet shut down. Argh!

I had two hours before my deadline, and a completed project ready to email. The power came back on, but the internet didn’t. Half an hour before the deadline: Phil started to tinker. Fifteen minutes before the deadline: now too late to drive anywhere to use the internet—if Phil can’t get it to go at home, I’ll be late.

The stress level builds! The baby starts crying! Two minutes to go—sent. Ahhh.

Most of the time, my work isn’t that stressful. I had reduced hours when we first moved here, but starting in January, I’m back at twenty hours of work a week, many of them completed between 10pm and midnight. When I finished my work a couple nights ago, this is what I found in my bed.



Tonight, I witnessed something not seen every day. As we got ready to go to Bible study, Abigail leaned on the door while getting her jacket off the hook. It swung open, she lost her balance, and, after windmilling her arms for a few seconds, she fell, full length, out the door.

Disaster. The melting snow has turned all our ground into an inch of red mud, and outside our door is more wet than most. Before I could even reach the poor girl, sprawled in the mud outside, I had to maneuver around boys and pull on my boots. I fully expected a sheet of mud from head to toe.

Astonishingly, she came through with a muddy face and muddy hands.



No blood, but just a small bump on the forehead. Because we have no warm water, we dry toweled her off and headed to Bible study, where we enjoyed the warm water cleaning. It was the most Laurel and Hardy/Three Stooges/slapstick sight I’ve ever seen.

What a life we live!