And this time I have proof, evidence! It’s not just that everything seems to swim around inside my brain, but there are actual holes in my memory! For example . . .

FLEA TRAPS

For the last few months I’ve been dealing with fleas inside the house. Both dog and cat are indoor/outdoor, so no wonder. Plus, both dog and cat are supposedly protected from fleas and ticks due to expensive flea collar (just put on a second one this year on Scampi) and other monthly, expensive poisons squeezed onto the backs of their necks. Yuck!

Plus, Marita keeps the grass mowed outside, and sprays an essential oil mix on that area weekly.

This problem is nothing new. I always deal with fleas during hot humid Indiana summers. But for some strange reason, this year I completely forgot the most important remedy of all. FLEA TRAPS!

Instead, I’ve been vacuuming, the entire house, daily. That takes a full hour each time, including underneath couch cushions, etc., plus washing blankets on couch and my own sitting chair over and over and over again. Plus constantly puffing way too much diotomaceous earth everywhere. Plus combing through Scampi’s hair twice a day. . . Usually find five to seven fleas . . .

An endless Sisyphusian task. And what’s really weird. I wondered why do I have so many fleas this year? Why do these little critters dominate my day no matter what I do?

Then yesterday, I suddenly remembered the flea traps. Seven of them altogether, one per room, two for living room. I’ve been using flea traps each summer forever!

Is this significant memory hole just to be expected as I age? I wonder.

So I got the stored flea traps out, and brought them upstairs. seven in all. Put new sticky mats in each one, made sure each light worked, and set them into dark corners of various rooms. A big plus: I didn’t even have to go to the hardware to get either lights or sticky mats; I had extras here of both. (That’s a first. Usually, I have to do this also, in prep.) So thank you, Ann. For your forward thinking attitude at the end of last summer!

Which reminds me: Wendell Berry, who passed yesterday at 92, was a hero and model for all of us who see our purpose helping to regenerate this beautiful Earth, beginning where we live, right here, right now, at home, place-based. For me, that’s right here in Green Acres Permaculture Village. Thank you Wendell, for the far-reaching, revisionary template you created. You left New York for Kentucky in the 1960s, to move back to the place that birthed generations of Berrys, and in so doing, helped birth the “back to the land” movement, as well as may other hippie values, including, at least for me, an old hippie, this way of putting it into words:  “Money is a mere scrim upon Nature.”

Kentucky writer, farmer and advocate Wendell Berry dies at 92

I find it interesting that he passed only slightly more than two months after Trump signed the regenerative agriculture bill.

https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2026/06/advancing-regenerative-agriculture-and-strengthening-american-farm-resilience/