On Saturday, today, attend the People’s Climate Mobilization March in Keene, thereby combining relative Climate Action with errands, thereby lowering carbon footprint by not driving to Concord or Boston, thereby alleviating sense of “Is this enough?” with reality of daily life.
Print out “No Ban. No Walls. No Raid.” signs to be put up at our house in Providence.
Spread POV (peas, oats, vetch) seed.
Stir and spread BD preps.
Host Apple tree grafting party with Ben Watson at Darwin’s View.
Jump start blog.
And clean up basement in anticipation of the extreme organizing because here is my May goal: Sell our house in Providence.
Yes, we are putting our Providence house on the market, hopefully by May 12th.
OMG. However do that?
Go step by step.
Rememember this: loss happens. Letting go. Change. Every minute of the day, there is change. Today. Now. It is a beautiful day here at Darwin’s View. The clouds this morning looked like glowing, puffy gray pillows. Mist on the hills. Tom Turkeys gobbling. Barn swallows swooping. Chickens cackling. The trees are as amazing in spring as in the fall with their variety of greens. Carl’s peach trees are covered with buds. (Not bugs!) The clouds are now a haze that allows the sun to warm the backs of the browsing turkeys.
May 1: Drive to Providence to put up “No Ban. No Walls. No Raid.” signs. Meet with real estate agents and staging consultant. Greet the 15 yard dumpster. Remind Carl to go to his 2PM dentist appointment. Prepare to pack.
May 1-4: Rip out our raised beds. Pluck the iris out of the ground. Roll sod. Mulch.
Pack. Preferably not everything. There is no room for everything at Darwin’s View.
Contemplate the consequences of my choices. Badabing! Done.
But first a march and rally to keep the bigger picture in mind: that we must each, individually, act now, in however big or small a way, to change our habits for the good of the environment. Each and every one of our choices matter. How we get from point A to B. What we eat. How we relate to one another: with compassion or hate.
The words “trump” and “nasty” have been forever ruined for me.
By May 12: Assist Carl in building Chicken Coop 10 for the chicks that are supposed to be pullets but one of the buff polish chicks has a head top that looks remarkably like a mohawk, not a muffin top. His sister (I hope) has more of a muffin top than a mohawk. Thus their names, tentatively, Muff and Moe. And all of these chicks, frankly, have “stand up and look at me” attitudes a la cockerels.
That would just be bad luck to pick six sexed chicks and have them all be boys.
Two trips to NYC.
. . . and move out of Providence.
Even if I move, it exists in my heart. And I imagine what it must be like for refugees. How awful to be forced to leave home, lives in danger. Hunger, thirst, fear. Great fear opposing their longing for home. The unfamiliarity of here. The necessity of enduring, living, loving.
Loving is so much better than hating, giving so much more fulfilling than clinging.
But this is just a rough list. No times to deepen or truly think. It’s time to rally, to march.