I passed this sign in front of a church on a trip to the Yadkin Valley and back today. The church is on a country road between Siloam and Pinnacle.
Bat houses
I finally got my bat houses put up yesterday. There were carpenters here to work on making Acorn Abbey more waterproof, and while they were here I asked them to use their ladder to put up the bat houses. I bought the bat houses from the Organization for Bat Conservation. The bat houses are at the edge of the woods behind the house, above the new fire pit.
I do have bats here. They can be seen any evening at dusk, dive-bombing for insects. I’ve learned that I don’t even have to go outdoors to watch them. If at dusk I stand upstairs in front of the gothic windows and turn on the outdoor floodlights, soon the bats will come, chasing the bugs drawn by the lights (there are two big floodlights mounted under the eaves on each corner of the house). Sometimes the bats will dive-bomb straight for the windows. This gives an effect that is both gothic and a bit techie. It reminds me of the scenes in Star Wars in which the evil emperor sits in his big chair facing a big window looking out on a space battle, with the fighter craft swarming. The bats’ dives sometimes come quite close to the gothic windows, then they make steep turns to avoid the windows. You can see the underbellies of the bats.
The carpenters, actually, were my nephew, Russ, and his helper. They caulked around all the windows, installed metal flashing at the bottom of each window to deflect the water that runs down to the window sill, installed metal flashing around all the eaves to keep runoff from the roof from hitting the wood facia, and installed a large attic vent so that when I turn on my attic fan there’s enough vent space for the exhaust to escape. Though I do use air conditioning at Acorn Abbey, I also tried to build the house so that it’s livable without air conditioning. If I open north-facing downstairs windows and turn on the attic fan, strong breezes from the cool side of the house pour in. The fan is huge and has the capacity to change all the air in the house every few minutes. The fan is mounted in the living room ceiling, 21 feet up from the floor.
Farmer's market, etc.
Tomatoes are not yet plentiful. When they are, the price will come down.
Ken and I went to the Danbury Farmer’s Market today. Ken took some photos along the way. Here are today’s photos, along with a couple of older catch-up photos.
As for the rainfall, one farmer said they got about half an inch last night. Another farmer got almost an inch of rain.
This is the stand of the farmer couple that this summer we’ve been calling our favorite farmers.
The vines at Oak Valley Vineyards, not far from Priddy’s General Store and about five miles from Acorn Abbey
The tobacco crop seems to have handled the hot, dry weather very well.
Ken built a firepit down at the edge of the woods. We had our first fire in it last Friday evening, a rare cool evening.
Ken with his last supper before starting a three-day fast. He’ll end the fast at dinner tonight, for which he has requested pizza and apple pie.
Finally, a little rain
Young grapes, still wet from the rain and the dew
This week has been the hottest, most miserable week of weather that I can remember. For three days, the temperature went over 100. I believe the highest temperature we reached was over 102. The ground was dry, hard, and baked. The grass was turning brown. Ken and the water hose have been hard pressed to keep the garden and the new plantings going.
Finally, just before midnight last night, a storm moved through. This storm was moving from north to south out of Virginia, and it hit Stokes County head on. Here on the eastern side of the county, we didn’t get as much rain, but from the looks of the radar, most of the county got a good soaking. I’m going to the farmer’s market at Danbury later this morning. I can’t wait to ask the farmers how much rain they got.
Into the woods, for your health?
The New York Times reports on studies that have shown that going into the woods improves immune function. One Japanese study, for example, found that spending time in dense vegetation lowered cortisol levels, lowered the pulse rate, and lowered blood pressure. Another study found that two-hour walks in a forest over two days raised the number of white blood cells and caused natural killer cells to rise 50 percent.
Basil season
One of the compensations for the heat spells of July is the fresh basil for pesto. Now if the tomatoes would just get ripe.
Getting along with the neighbors
I am flattered that such a variety of wildlife want to live close to Acorn Abbey. Too close. Last summer, the groundhogs moved into new digs less than five meters from the house. I harassed them (by throwing things and making noises) until they moved back to the edge of the woods.
This year there was a bumper crop of bunnies. They live in the thicket just downhill from the house. We see them in the yard almost every day in the morning and evening, eating clover. This evening a bunny came up onto the steps of the side porch at Acorn Abbey.
I’m particularly happy about the rabbits. Three years ago, before I cleared away an acre of pine trees to build the abbey, there was really no nearby rabbit habitat. I never saw rabbits. Now there’s a large area of thick brush — a thicket — between the house and the woods on the lower side of the house. It’s perfect rabbit habitat: Good cover in the thicket, with lots of nearby clover and such for grazing.
Ken Ilgunas took these three photos.
The high cost of financial illiteracy
The July 5 issue of the New Yorker has a short but excellent essay by James Surowiecki on the high cost of financial illiteracy. Most Americans, Surowiecki says, can’t explain what compound interest is. The less people know, the more they get into financial trouble. Over a lifetime, Surowiecki says, the difference between knowing something about your finances and knowing nothing can add up to hundreds of thousands of dollars. Financial illiteracy also makes people much more susceptible to financial predation, which is raging out of control in our era.
We know that the poor pay more for pretty much everything than do people who are more well off. That, no doubt, is a combination of financial weakness and financial ignorance.
An important point that I have not heard made, though, is that frugality and financial ignorance are not compatible. Frugality requires not merely financial discipline. Frugality also requires laser sharp, Ph.D.-level financial sophistication. Frugality is more than not buying what we don’t need. Frugality also is about paying no more than absolutely necessary for the things we do need — a home, transportation, food, etc.
Crippled collie?
Gladys and me, circa 1989, Winston-Salem, NC. Photo by Gavin Geoffrey Dillard
I don’t think I’ve ever explained on this blog the meaning of my domain name, crippledcollie.com.
There once was a crippled collie. Her name was Gladys. She was born, as I recall, in 1981. She was active, athletic, extremely sweet, and not the smartest collie in the world (though she became quite wise in her old age). When she was 8 years old, she had a stroke. I came home from work one day to find her moving with great difficulty. Her eyes wandered in different directions. Her pupils were different sizes. We rushed to the vet. The vet quickly diagnosed a stroke and administered heavy doses of intravenous cortisone. Still, within hours, Gladys turned into a vegetable. She was paralyzed. All four legs were useless. She could only lie on her side and watch me with her now-strange eyes.
On follow-up visits to the vet, my vet and I discussed the options. The vet pointed out that Gladys was not in pain, that she was strong-willed and surprisingly happy, and that Gladys was very attached to me and trusted me very, very much. The vet said that, if I was willing to take care of a paralyzed dog, that there was a chance that Gladys’ condition might gradually improve.
That’s what we did. Very slowly, over a period of weeks and months, Gladys regained control of her legs. Eventually she was able to stand. Then she started hobbling. And eventually she started walking again. Still, for the rest of her life, she walked with a limp. She dragged her right hind leg. When she walked, her feet on the floor made a strange sound — click click scratch, click click scratch, click click scratch. When I moved to San Francisco, Gladys went with me. She spent her last few years in my apartment across from Buena Vista Park in Haight-Ashbury. She loved Buena Vista Park. She could click-click-scratch her way to the top of the park without any trouble. I used to call her the Crippled Collie of Haight Street (which also is the working title of my memoir-in-progress). She knew Haight Street quite well. Especially she knew the location of the bagel store, and she would take us straight there if I asked her if she wanted a bagel.
Gladys died a natural death at the age of 13. Gavin and I were with her. She is buried on the Point Reyes Peninsula, near Inverness, California.
Apple pie from Levering apples
Here’s an apple pie from the Lodi apples we picked yesterday at Levering Orchard. I like simple, classic pies, so, as with this summer’s blackberry pies, I used one of the classic recipes from the 1943 edition of Irma Rombauer’s Joy of Cooking.