The memorable phrase, “Think globally, act locally,” was, unfortunately, hijacked by the globalists long ago. But we can still do it: recognize that whatever issues we are facing on a local level others are facing in their own localities, everywhere. That as each of us pays attention to and works with what is right in front of him or her, no matter how impossible it seems, then little by little, locality by locality, the world will move in the direction intended.
How local is local? Well, it begins inside the self.
Next, the home base.
I include yesterday’s photo of backyard corner — serene yurt with Moloch lurking behind — to illustrate several things.
First of all, I’m thrilled that the stealthy nighttime deer haven’t managed to kill all the flowers off; some, after having been lopped off, are starting to bloom again.
Next, you can’t really see it, but on the right side of the path, next to the yurt, is a cage large enough to trap a groundhog . . . I saw a large groundhog head out peeking out of the foliage by the yurt about a week ago and realized that this was probably the adult male we did not manage to trap and rehome 20 miles out of town last summer, along with nine others, mostly small. So we set the trap with cantalope, and guess what appeared the next morning? Not what we expected, hoped for! Instead, a baby possum, which, when we went to free it, dropped to its side, opened both his eyes and mouth, motionless! Aha, yes. That’s what they do, possums, play dead!
We opened the cage, lifted one side of the bottom so that it would “come alive” and scurry out. Go! little possum buddy that eats mostly unwanted insects!
So yeah, the cage is again opened and inviting that groundhog with fresh cantalope. No luck yet.
Note the left side of the yurt photo, how the plants seem to be “growing wild.” That’s because they are! Plus there is a colorful beetle dessicating our brassicas. We drop them in water as we find ’em, sometimes hundreds at a time.
The main garden looks full and lush, but there is this persistent infestation.
There are only three of us here this summer who have time for the gardens in any way: Joseph, who works full time and only available on weekends, plus Marita and I who are also devoted to my institutionalized son Colin Cudmore (and Marita and Joseph’s housemate), still paralyzed from waist down and suffering from tremendous nerve pain, and for the past several months, two types of persistent skin rashes, ever since last August 16, when an aortic dissection almost took his life. I prepare all his food, visit him once or twice weekly, and post daily updates on caringbridge.org.
Our numbers will increase when long-time weekly Community Dinner participant Elisha and her partner Dave move into the third house, purchasing it from me. Yesterday, Joseph, Marita and I worked with them to finish clearing the garage so they can move their stuff in.
Meanwhile, I’m now working with three other neighboring women to see if we can preserve this sweet, post-World War II Green Acres Neighborhood that borders rapacious Indiana Universty on the east from encroaching multi-story development. And we have a deadline, August 14. Way too much to do in much too short a period of time. Long story.
I imagine that I am not alone in being “caught up” in seemingly impossible local issues which, in their fractal nature, parallel the larger, more and more tumultuous scene world-wide, as
alone, together, and united,
we counteract the absurdity of rapacious human greed
with the beauty of cooperative human harmony
Remember, re-member . . .
