In the Sacrifice Stage Still

We put the piglets up for sale yesterday. I would be thrilled to sell them, even at a loss. They are so scrumptious looking, but I don't want to feed pigs anymore. I want to kill and eat the two boars, get rid of the purebred Berkshire mother in a way that is respectful of her and her breeding, and sell off the piglets to happy homes.

I have reached a point of hopelessness about the animals, though. I suspect that no one will come to buy our beautiful animals, which will require hard decisions. Always hard decisions! Always the wrong choices! Argh!

I have spent some time clearing our future blueberry patch. I have moved rocks out of the swales, and have tried to pull up the largest, most lignified weeds that the chickens didn't eat. In some areas, the chickens have done a remarkable job scratching the soil surface, clearing almost entirely. In other spots, the grass grows thickly yet. Phil is not convinced that it is worth it to clear the ground as much as possible; just till the ground, weed rootlets, grass seeds, and all, and then stay on it as the plants grow.

While I appreciate the time-saving elements of this approach, I worry that the grass rootlets will come back to haunt our plants for years to come. Most people I know spray herbicides to clear the land before planting. Since "herbicide" is incompatible with my idea of how the life in the soil should work (not necessarily how it does work, but how it should), I'm not willing to spray. Whether weeding is worth it, though, I don't know. And indecision irks me: I feel unsettled in how to proceed, grumpy in outlook.

To compound this grumpiness, the weather turned quite cool, down to about 45 degrees this morning. The realization that again we are approaching winter in the construction trailer, without much headway towards a warmer home, really struck me this morning. I hadn't felt much claustrophobia about our living quarters before, but I am fighting it now.

We will get through. We always do.

It is easy for me to think the pigs, and their voracious appetites, the focus of all my woes. Evict the pigs, and all will be well! Money for true necessities and money for frivolities (like running water!). But it isn't really just the pigs. It has been a second year of experiments, and I am done with experiments. I am done with failures and money running through our fingers. I crave success and fruitfulness.

Phil moved the sawmill this morning. We had briefly considered leaving it where it was, and trusting that his skill in felling trees would be enough to prevent the sawmill being crushed. But that was ridiculous: far better to spend a little more time moving and leveling the sawmill than risk destroying it.

The first tree he downed was a massive, 20+ inch diameter tulip poplar. I hadn't realized he was going to fell it, and when I realized which tree he had cut down, I was temporarily stunned. I loved that tree. It was a straight, beautiful, tall tree, right in my line of walking to the creek. I thought of it as my friend.

And now it was down, irreparable. (When Phil realized how upset I was, he felt absolutely sick. He had analyzed the future grazing site or potential market garden, and left a more valuable tree nearby, so he was doing his best to both thin the site, get usable lumber, and leave valuable trees for the future. He wasn't just mindlessly cutting trees down without thinking; he just didn't realize my affection for that particular tree.)

I walked downslope then, to see the other trees marked for use. I had never paid much attention to them: they were not in my regular path. But I was surprised at how large they were, how straight and desirable.

On further reflection, the reality is this: the usable trees are going to be the larger ones. Phil can take down the smaller, junky trees, but they won't have much use in larger construction. I don't think I had ever really thought about that: the trees needed will be larger, more beautiful.

Argh! Life! If it doesn't kill you, it makes you sacrifice something lovely.

I suppose it could also be argued that you can try to create something lovely, but I don't think we're there yet. We're still in the sacrifice stage.