The Winter of Our Discontent

Guest Post by Hardscrabble Farmer

“A man who tells secrets or stories must think of who is hearing or reading, for a story has as many versions as it has readers. Everyone takes what he wants or can from it and thus changes it to his measure. Some pick out parts and reject the rest, some strain the story through their mesh of prejudice, some paint it with their own delight. A story must have some points of contact with the reader to make him feel at home in it. Only then can he accept wonders.” ― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

We slaughtered the last of the turkeys a week or two after Thanksgiving in the new snow. We always keep a few of the bigger ones until they get up over thirty pounds and then break them down into parts for the rest of the year; swollen breasts the size of chickens, two pound thighs, enormous legs, and giant wings vacuum sealed and deep frozen until we need a meal and I turn the carcasses and gizzards into gallons and gallons of stock that we can use for soups and risottos.

For all of it’s rewards it’s one of those chores I look forward to the least. I will miss the sound of the turkeys and their odd way of following us all around wherever we work around the gardens and barns over now, at least until the Spring when we start off another flock. I have come to enjoy the turkeys about as much as any of the other livestock, for a number of reasons, and the final act of going through their ranks one by one until we’re finished strikes me as bittersweet. I am very grateful for the freezer full of plump, boned breasts and giant drumsticks that will feed our family and provide us with delicious and nourishing meals for months to come, but I miss the give and take, my calls to them whenever I pass, and their chorus of response that never fails to bring a smile to my face, over for the year.

Like the way the Sun has been steadily falling further and further to the south in it’s brief arc across the sky these days it points to more than just a seasonal nadir, but something more than that, a reminder perhaps of the way of everything, an inexorable decline towards silence and darkness. Standing in the snow and slitting their long throats, the hot blood spraying crimson streams into the pure white beneath the maples is a act of finality, not only for the big birds, but for myself as well. I am done with killing for the year and in only a few more weeks there will be signs of new life in the swollen bellies of the cows, bred in the early Summer and there is that to look forward to; and the slow ascension of the Sun once more.

“When a condition or a problem becomes too great, humans have the protection of not thinking about it. But it goes inward and minces up with a lot of other things already there and what comes out is discontent and uneasiness, guilt and a compulsion to get something–anything–before it is all gone.” ― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

We have been at this for just over ten years now, and while we have taken on the skin of this new life every bit as comfortably as I had hoped we would, there is still so much to it that we have yet to figure out. We have tried to incorporate into our vision of how the world ought to be, at least in our limited sphere and to live it daily in spite of the cost and hardship because to continue as we had was simply not possible. For the first few years I tried to impose my own vision of what I thought farming was supposed to be, a kind of agrarian business where equal amounts of labor and material would equate to some kind of financial payoff.

It seemed like all of the other things in my life before this to be a form of economic give and take and we only needed to master the technical aspects of it to become profitable. It took a couple of years to recognize that farms, like boats, are something you could throw money at forever without ever seeing a sign of it again, but that what it paid us in return was ineffable. What we slowly discovered was that it built up a different kind of capital, and paid off dividends that were only recognizable if you knew how to look at them.

Where in the past we had gone to distant places in order to earn money doing specialized tasks in order to hire others to do the things we could have done for ourselves if we were at home, we now had to do those things for ourselves as the income we once had was no longer available to us. As we became more competent at doing the jobs we once had subcontracted out to other people our dependence on money declined, freeing up more time to learn even more skills that could be used for our benefit. We now produce where once we had simply consumed, we re-purposed those things that we’d formerly thrown away, and we shared with others things we would have jealously kept to ourselves.

In the past I have written about the economy of brotherhood, the kind of free exchanges of talents and abilities with other people that fed into a closed system of further sharing, a concentric ring of good deeds that ripple out and intersect with the countless other rings of other people’s efforts, linking us together in ways that money could never approximate. And so the man who showed me how to slaughter and butcher a hog nine years ago without taking a dollar for that generous gift allowed me to help three other young men this year to raise and slaughter and put up their own meat without anything more than a thank-you and a promise to do the same for someone else someday as payment.

In the old life everything had a price, every exchange was some kind of negotiation, and we were, without exaggeration, economic animals above all other things. I sensed something wrong with the way we lived long before I chose to do anything about it and so everything I wrote up until then was a reaction to something very powerful, but completely concealed from my conscious understanding. There was an impotent anger that seethed beneath the words because it was unable to understand the cause of my disquiet; it was not what was being done to us but rather what we avoided doing for ourselves that led to our discontent.

“I guess we’re all, or most of us, the wards of that nineteenth-century science which denied existence to anything it could not measure or explain. The things we couldn’t explain went right on but surely not with our blessing. We did not see what we couldn’t explain, and meanwhile a great part of the world was abandoned to children, insane people, fools, and mystics, who were more interested in what is than in why it is. So many old and lovely things are stored in the world’s attic, because we don’t want them around us and we don’t dare throw them out.” ― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

I stopped writing anything more than some random comments about six months ago in order to recharge my batteries. Most everything I have ever written in the past has been extemporaneous, knocked out before dawn after a few days of cogitating on a matter, and then allowing the bits and pieces to coalesce in the silence of the den at a single throw while everyone else slept above.

There was, under this cessation of scribbling, a plan to put together a book length piece for publication, as much for the satisfaction of my children- “Why do you spend so much time writing if you aren’t going to write a book?” as for anything else, so I put my thoughts on hiatus while I went back to read the authors I’d always found to be the most moving, eloquent and aware of their time and place; Twain, Banks, Dreiser, and Steinbeck. And so in the days after the slaughter of the turkeys I found myself reading, for the first time, The Winter of Our Discontent.

I was swept away almost instantly by the tone of his last novel rather than by the eloquence of his words. There was, I was quite sure, a much larger tome lurking beneath the surface of his morality tale of a man looking to redeem himself through financial success at the expense of his character. Ethan Hawley was man travelling in a reverse arc of my own. Here was a character who possessed everything anyone could ever want in life- a good name, a loving wife, healthy children, a secure home, the respect of his community and a family line that traced its roots back to “puritans and pirates” but who lacked only wealth.

This he became certain was the key to his true happiness and it was not his own idea but the prodding of those around him that drove him to slowly trade in one pure gift of goodness and decency after another in order to fulfill his uncertain destiny. I am not one to spoil the plot of what is without a doubt one of the finest and most important American novels ever written, but let me assure you that no amount of money can ever purchase what Ethan exchanged in order to chase after financial security.

Throughout the first 250 or more pages I had read I was swept along by the story of an individual struggle, of moving beyond the past into an uncertain future, but as I closed in on the final few pages I understood what kind of story Steinbeck had been writing all along. This was very much in the vein of The Great Gatsby in which the man is simply a symbol of something much larger than himself. It was not so much an American story as it was a story about America. Everything that he wrote in those twenty-two spare chapters summed up the price of a man’s reputation by clearly demonstrating it’s cost for selling out.

“In poverty she is envious. In riches she may be a snob. Money does not change the sickness, only the symptoms” ― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

Yesterday I trucked several hog to a slaughterhouse for a friend. Every year he buys two or three piglets to raise in his backyard and every year around this time he asks me to deliver them to the abattoir. It’s an hour drive across the river and into a small town in Vermont and when I arrived there was no one at the delivery chute so I walked around the back of the building to look for a door to an office or to find someone who could let me in. At the top of small flight of stairs there was a big door with a wired-glass window and I stared in to the line where four or five people were working on a string of hogs hanging from hooks.

One large women wearing a wife-beater and a full body rubberized apron was spraying 200 degree water on the carcasses to loosen the stiff hog hairs from the hide. She was splattered with diluted blood and looked serious, her skin bright pink from the heat and the effort, her hair flecked with gore. Further along another man with a sharp knife was cutting efficiently along the bung to prepare for evisceration, and all around them there was a swirl of rising steam and the cold, pink water, circling the drain. No one looked at the door where I stood so I watched them intently, invisible as they did their work to the sound of an old boom box playing heavy metal music while they did their grim duty.

As I looked in on them I thought that if they could do this for eight hours a day, for the five or six hundred dollars a week that it paid, what could they be capable of if their motivations were attuned to something of greater importance? For the past couple of weeks I have watched with an almost cynical detachment the Yellow Vest riots in France as well as the continuing and seemingly endless political machination of the DC insiders and their Deep State apparatchiks as they continued their ceaseless route of our institutions and traditions. I know what they are capable of and am under no illusion as to their true motivations. I have been the man up on the wall, the point of the spear, and like Ethan Hawley, I have tried to reassure myself that while I may have taken life in combat, I was not a killer, but that is a lie we tell ourselves so that we can live with ourselves.

We are all part of the mechanized, industrial slaughter of living even if we want to believe in something else. We have compartmentalized our lives to such a degree that if we buy our turkey from the deli counter cut into thin slices and packaged in ziplock bags we are somehow free from the price of the bloody snow, but that isn’t the truth. Every tax dollar that we feed into the machine that strips away our dignity and demoralizes our children, every word that we keep to ourselves rather than stating out loud for fear of the cost is a price we still have to pay, a debt that we must carry to someone or something further along or behind. We are the ones responsible for making the choices that effect our lives, one household at a time.

“He saw something that makes a man doubtful of the constancy of the realities outside himself. It was the shocking discovery that makes a man wonder if I’ve missed this, what else have I failed to see?” John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

There used to be a time when I worried about what people thought, more so when we were part of the system and focused on the accumulation of wealth and status, but nowadays not so much. I have far more freedom now with almost nothing than I did when we had everything. I never would have expected that, and might not have even cared if someone had told me, but it’s something I have learned. There has always been an accepted reality built around the concept of money being able to purchase anything, but that’s not true either.

It comes with it’s own set of chains and restraints and a man who fears saying something for losing what he has is not free at all. In fact the most valuable possession we can ever own, and one which no one can ever take is our own experience. The choices we make, for good or evil, for right or wrong, for profit or for loss accumulate like interest in the account of our life and the only way we can make that kind of capital available for use is to share with others the value in what we have learned, even if we give it away.

I am as concerned and fearful about the future as anyone else I know, but I am also very realistic about my contribution. My circle or acquaintances and associates is very small, but it is filled with the kinds of people who have chosen likewise. We do what we can, when we can, where we are, and that adds to the final ledger the kind of tally that no accountant can reconcile. Ethan Hawley had everything any man could ever want and he sold it for a mess of pottage, but in his final moments on the page he reached deep into the past and remembered to keep a single flame alight. And that’s all that any of us can ever do.

“It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.”John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

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Jim
Jim

A great book and a great well thought out and meaningful essay by the Farmer. As the saying goes, most men lead lives of quiet desperation, but you have attempted to rise above that. Congrats!

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is
confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country,
and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A
stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the
games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after
work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things. – Walden, Ch 1

Anonymous
Anonymous

Years ago my Mom got some domestic turkeys to raise. They would follow us around making that purring noise. After they had grown a bit too much my Mom asked me to help with the slaughtering and butchering, a task I always dreaded and still dread. Well I shot one of the turkeys heads with the shotgun and for those familiar with turkey behavior it wouldn’t be a surprise that the other turkeys immediately jumped upon the shot turkey and began to tear it up. This surprised me at the time but also demonstrated that these animals don’t think like we do. After the butcher job it took a while for me to want to eat anything. My Mom was happy I butchered one for her and that was good enough for me.

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

..I shot one of the turkeys heads with the shotgun..

How many heads does a turkey have?

Anonymous
Anonymous

They got one, ya moran. Pedantic much?

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

Anonymous calls out EC

Stucky

Absolutely amazing — in a disgusting kind of way — that you would get 12 thumbs down for what was OBVIOUSLY a little bit of humor.

“Don’t attempt humor with people have their heads stuck up their asses.” —- Doc Pangloss

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

Stuck, I said before that I write my comments for you. Not necessarily seeking your approval but rather if I shoot for your intellect and sense of humor, I should have a good comment regardless of the maroons.

Anonymous
Anonymous

This is what turkey heads up your ass looks like ^ ^

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

You’re taking this way too serious, anon.

Eyas
Eyas

Had chickens. One prolapsed. Her intestine was hanging out of her ass by several inches to a foot. She was running away from the Rhode Island Reds who had congregated to peck and pull at those intestines and hound the wounded bird to death.

These simpleton bird-brains were very keen to A: eliminate the weak amongst themselves; and B: eat anything that would provide them protein … including their sister’s intestines.

The point is that stupid bird-brains aren’t all that stupid, and some breeds of bird (Rhode Island Reds for chickens) are pretty G-damned vicious — they WILL peck out your child’s eyeball if given the chance (they’ll peck anything white).

The one pecked nearly to death was an Ameraucanas, very smart (as chickens go), and keen to mimic people like parakeets or parrots. Fucking Reds. Never own them again despite their healthiness & productivity. They’re f-ing velociraptors only much smaller.

no one
no one

Also a Steinbeck fan. Winter is a poignant story that plays out in many families.

Jean
Jean

Long time reader, moved to comment on this story, just so beautiful. the part about we do what we can,. . . that adds to the final ledger, brought tears to my eyes. thank you

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

Hey assholes, the song was for Jean, what is your damn problem?

hardscrabble farmer
hardscrabble farmer

My thumbs up/down thingy is broke. It’s gray and it won’t let me click. I think I broke it.

Jean
Jean

Thank you EC, it seemed like a “welcome” to me as a first time poster to this site. Even the infighting among the regulars seems more good natured than downright nasty, like a loving family that often disagrees.

Emil

I beg to differ. Our most valuable asset is our thoughts. Experiences are often forced on us. Just a couple points for fodder:

(1) You can be imprisoned, but your mind can still be free.
(2) Life can and does suck (war, genocide, taxes), but until I’m incapacitated, they can’t take my mind.

So I suggest the same things HSF says. I fill my mind with happiness. Good memories. I constantly refine principles. I read thought provoking articles – thanks!

PS. Our heaviest turkeys were over 40 pounds sans guts, feathers, etc. And man, do they taste good!

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

“I constantly refine principles.”

Have you any left?

javelin
javelin

A chunk of gold found from the ground is full of other elements. Once refined, the impurities and detritus removed, the gold (principle) is not gone but instead is increased in it’s untarnished purity.

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

OK, numbnuts, Anon said he had trouble putting his thoughts to paper. I suggested the best way to learn to write is to write often. Here, as I do often for commenters, I point out a line that isn’t quite clear. I also check for spelling errors free of charge. What the fuck are you brains doing to help? Assholes.

Eyas
Eyas

Anon? What Anon? This thread is in response to a comment by Emil.

Have you completely lost your shit? Or do your brains do more than provide counterbalance to keep your (numb) skull inflated?

See my previous post. Your comments are either posted in the wrong place (making you a f-ing retard) or are totally non-sequitur dickheadedness for the sake of dickheadedness.

Hint: don’t crack that 13th beer. It won’t help.

I’ve read your other comments. You are very opinionated, singular in your emphasis and opinion, and downright ornery … all of which I admire and respect even when I disagree — but in this thread you’re being a douche for douche-sake. WTF?

Eyas
Eyas

Are you just a dick on purpose, for no reason? or is there method behind your dickheadedness?

Now I Understand
Now I Understand

I so look forward to the writings of HSF… like a good meal, I enjoy it slowly and savor every bit of it.

I have started the process to live a similar life as HSF. I have 40 acres, an orchard, pond, chickens and soon, more. I walked away from a six figure job after pondering the advice of a local pastor, who made a living repairing septic systems. The good pastor said, “at some point you will decide that money is no longer more important than living the life you want in the location you want to be.”

He was right…

Jean
Jean

Wow, that’s exactly the quote that describes those among us that have made such a change. Never easy. HSF is so eloquent at times it hurts.

BB
BB

Another good one Hard Farmer as I have come to expect from you. That line about telling ourselves we are not killers hit me right between the eyes for some reason. The condition of our nation really upsets me and I have some evil thoughts go through my mind sometimes . I understand why and how men commit genocide .
I do wish my grandparents would have kept our old farm and handed it down to us grandkids . I would be on that land right now but it wasn’t to be. Now I couldn’t buy a piece of property like that in 10 lifetimes even though I make a good living doing what I do. I guess I’m going to have to learn how to make it in the mountains. I would like to buy property in the Appalachian mountains . I know Charlotte NC with all it’s diversity at my age is demoralizing. God bless.

Cleveland Rocks
Cleveland Rocks

My great-grandfather had a farm north and east of Pittsburgh. When I was very young I wanted to live there; but he sold it in ’62 or ’63. I cried when he told me and would not speak to him for days. I still wish he kept the farm.

James the Wanderer

We are killers by necessity – those around you are as subject as you are to mental illness, depravity, loss of character / faith / discipline; far too many of them succumb these days. When attacked in masses by the mentally ill, what alternative do you have than to defend yourself and your (hopefully sane) family? Do you expect them to leave you alone (in your happiness, while they suffer their own traumas) if you just ask them to? Are you capable of bringing them all down without a drop of blood being spilled?
But your life (unless ridiculously vegan, and maybe even then) exists because you have killed (or had others kill for you) tens of thousands of creatures: chickens, cows, shrimp, trout, tuna: the list is long. Your incisors are SHARP for a reason: your ancestors KILLED with them, and with tools. Tools are more effective, but your teeth are still hard and sharp to ensure you CAN kill.
The modern education system hides or ignores this; no MSM outlet will willingly notice it. But as a human you are GENETICALLY ENGINEERED to be a efficient, hard-edged killing machine. YOU did not do this, your ancestors did it (by surviving) as your children will gain from it (assuming you have them).
Just try to do it judiciously, as HSF seems to; he grows food, so that others can do other things (like write novels, do art, do science). There is no reason to feel guilty for surviving, since those who do not survive feel NOTHING. Go forth and do good, as long as life, circumstances and your neighbors allow you.

mark
mark

Now I Understand,

Yea buddy…working the land brings a seasonal rhyme and rhythm that calms and frees and whispers a contentment I have always chased in my day dreams.

Good for you!

Old Shoe

IMO, The Winter Of Our Discontent was Steinbeck’s masterpiece. It caught the first glimpse of a moral, God fearing America being overtaken by an America given to materialism and self gratification. I’ve read and reread it many times and I never fail to be overwhelmed with a sense of sadness and innocence lost.

Old Shoe

HF: I’d mention your last piece about the trip you took with your son, especially visiting the war memorials in DC bought back that sadness and longing remembrance of a people now gone.

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

We’re back to that old boar, Richard the Third, the pragmatist pretender to the throne. This time he is dressed as Ethan Hawke or is it Ethan Hawg? Instead of Clarence’s dream of jewels under the cold water, HF sees hogs going under the hot water. Hungry little eaters that covet every gain with eyes too weak to see beyond their own desires. This then was Richard III, deformed, “..elvish-mark’d, abortive, rooting hog!”

I certainly do not know what it all means, I am merely considering the things that come to mind reading this piece.

Diogenes’ Dung
Diogenes’ Dung

I didn’t know my historical passions could give me ‘gasms until you red-lined them and blew the doors off them, idling by in your Pastmobile.

Great googly-moogly, that paragraph could’ve been turn on William F Buckley’s lathe.

Maybe we’re all just trying to catch up?

Grizzly Bare
Grizzly Bare

That’s a heck of a great read Scrabble. Your ability to craft words into what become images in the readers mind is remarkable. For nearly my entire life, since reading Thoreau as a teenager I dreamed of an agrarian lifestyle and I finally made it at the age of 55. Now four years into my rural odyssey I have to agree with all you’ve said. Most of my plans have evolved into something completely different than before I started.

I too have been the tip of the spear and I understand what that meant and how I was so eager for that experience. It has it’s good points. I used to tell parents that it’s the best way to turn a boy into a man, but now I would not recommend it to anyone.

I do recommend leveraging whatever assets one may have into a life in the boonies. It’s a tough move to make, but worth every bit of the effort. It might sound selfish to stop working to subsidize everyone else to look after only your own, but I don’t feel that way. I know who I am responsible for and it isn’t everyone else.

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)
Grizzly Bare
Grizzly Bare

I’m too simple for completely different.

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

“My Savannah Burrito”
With My Savannah Burrito I’m going to Bethlehem
With My Savannah Burrito I’m going to Bethlehem
If I’m seen, if I’m seen
I’m going to Bethlehem
If I’m seen, if I’m seen
I’m going to Bethlehem

The morning star iluminates my path
The morning star iluminates my path
If I’m seen, if I’m seen
I’m going to Bethlehem
If I’m seen, if I’m seen
I’m going to Bethlehem

With my little guitar I’ll go singing
My burrito will go trotting
With my little guitar I’ll go singing
My burrito will go trotting
If I’m seen, if I’m seen
I’m going to Bethlehem
If I’m seen, if I’m seen
I’m going to Bethlehem

Tuki tuki tukituki
Tuki tuki tukita
Hurry my burrito
Pretty soon we will arrive

Tuki tuki tukituki
Tuki tuki tukitu
Hurry my burrito
Cause soon we will see Jesus
(repeat)

Grizzly Bare
Grizzly Bare

Had a burrito made with venison, beans and cheese for supper. Awesome. I didn’t name it before I ate it. Come to think of it, as far as I know the deer didn’t have a name either.

Blah
Blah

“…a man who fears saying something for losing what he has is not free at all.”

Ain’t that the truth.

hardscrabble farmer
hardscrabble farmer

comment image

SmallerGovNow
SmallerGovNow

I’ve some great similar photos to share of sunsets in south texas. I will share with you when i figure out how the photo hosting sites work. I have also done one of the raised garden plots you posted a video of and it is in south texas style. I will share those and a story in the future. Your posts are always something I look forward too. This one was spectacular. Honestly I feel that your thoughts are my own although I, as an engineer, really suck at expressing them. If only there were more people like you life would be grand. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences with us. They give me and my wife hope as we are both big fans of your writings and your chosen lifestyle… Chip

BL
BL

Speaking of discontent, I have spent a good eight or nine hours watching raw footage of the rioting in Paris. Not the edited film of yellow vests standing around chanting, real heartwarming busting up of bank after bank (ATMs included) , the crowds yelling “Assassins, Assassins”at the police. The unified protest of Frenchmen singing their anthem loudly with fists in the air after the police retreat from a ass whoopin’. I need more popcorn……

Anonymous
Anonymous
hardscrabble farmer
hardscrabble farmer

comment image

Lgr
Lgr

Scrabble, that pic came from me, as my test to try and post media from a hard drive.
I’m running an old computer, and have been struggling to do so.
TMWNN recommended image hosting sight postimage, and I uploaded that pic, to satisfy
the platforms requirement to have media linked to a website location in order to post.

Still struggling to figure out how to just copy and paste a saved .jpg file from a storage disc, from those I’ve accumulated thru the years.
I have some good ones to share, but the struggle continues.

Bio: that pic is a morning sunrise up in Collingwood, Ontario, taken years ago, from the 2nd floor deck of a chalet, before skiing at Blue Mountain, having morning coffee.
Since my test post of it doesn’t display, what steps did you take to display it, sir?
Much obliged, for getting it viewable here. (revealing my PC skills lacking) sigh…

Apparently, 4 found it serene enough to give a thumbs up, which is cool.
Cheers.

The Man With No Name

Make sure whatever link you post for an image ends in a file suffix that indicates an image file. For example, it could end in .jpg or .jpeg or .png or .gif.

It can’t end in QHf6x9z6 and be recognized as an image.

lgr
lgr

Hey, Thanks for responding directly, with patience and directions. Grateful.

I’ve not been stating my question accurately. Perhaps an ignorant one, but…

If I have a personal photo saved to a PC hard drive or a thumb drive…and
If I’ve titled it with a .jpg suffix, does the blog allow it?
Or must it have a dedicated web link prefix of the https: as created by putting saved photos up on Postimage or Imgur?

Part of my problem, could be the age of the laptop I’m running, with older Windows software. Trying a simple Copy from hard drive, and Paste in blog comments field eludes me.

Thanks again.

The Man With No Name

You have to use a link from an image sharing site to paste into a comment. There is no facility on TBP for hosting comment images directly.

RiNS

lgr

I used to use postimages but have found that site is wanting by times. Lately I have been using my own wordpress account. Having better luck with that one…. I still suffer the whims of a website but do feel some greater control over my content..

Just set up an account and go from there. Myself I use it as a repository of stuff I post here that I want to keep for myself…

an example below..
comment image

The great part is a I have catalogue of all the images that I have used here on TBP at my fingertips when there is an emergency…

If you need further explanation send email and I will walk you thru it..

Cheers and Merry Christmas,

From a wanton heathen,

RiNS

lgr
lgr

To The Man: thanks for taking the time to reply. appreciated.

To RiNS,
You’re a good man, Charlie Brown. Glad I checked back. I’ll be in touch.

Uncola

Like the way the Sun has been steadily falling further and further to the south in it’s brief arc across the sky these days it points to more than just a seasonal nadir, but something more than that, a reminder perhaps of the way of everything, an inexorable decline towards silence and darkness.

― Hardscrabble Farmer, The Winter of Our Discontent

And

We did not see what we couldn’t explain, and meanwhile a great part of the world was abandoned to children, insane people, fools, and mystics, who were more interested in what is than in why it is.

― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

And so begins a late evening ramble in the bramble. Typing out loud:

When I saw the title I was thinking it was a perfect book to address at this time. There would so many ways to paint that canvas: Winter, end of things, death, chill in the air, turnings; and you touched all of those. When I saw the first quote, I was ruminating on how your (Hardscrabble) choices in life were, seemingly, the inversion of Steinbeck’s Hawley; and then you addressed that too.

That book definitely corresponds to our time and now, more than ever, resonates – complete with an illegal immigration twist, immoral descent, envy, keeping up with the Joneses, and the inevitable insolvency of self-gratification.

I’ve been thinking about an ongoing online shitfest which began this month, between New York Magazine’s Andrew Sullivan and Vox’s Ezra Klein. And, specifically, their opposing views on how people’s belief systems are manifesting currently in American politics.

Sullivan believes the snowflakes are bringing about the extreme escalation of political rhetoric in order to fill their empty souls with social justice. Klein says extreme political escalation has always been an American fact of life and that Sullivan is blind to the “perspective of the groups he’s dismissing” – while Klein, simultaneously, dismisses the privilege of all those “white and Christian, rural and male”.

I’ve assembled some notes and will likely write about it after Christmas. We’ll see. In any case, I took your double-posting of Steinbeck’s “children, insane people, fools, and mystics” quote as emphasis and it really got me to thinking.

I believe the worldview (Weltanschauung? Zeitgeist?) breach of our time is definitely a dilemma brought about cognitive dissonance which is rooted in identity. That may be common sense, but it does seem to have implications, and possible solutions, that Sullivan and Klein appeared to have overlooked thus far in their debate.

Below the cacophony is silence and in that place everything above becomes noise (i.e. who we are versus who we think we are). It seems redundant and it just might be.

Ripples in the pond. Excellent and thought-provoking piece. Thanks HSF.

hardscrabble farmer
hardscrabble farmer

Good catch on the quote, though it was a mistake on my part. I C&Ped the wrong quote for the last passage, it should have been this one-

“He saw something that makes a man doubtful of the constancy of the realities outside himself. It was the shocking discovery that makes a man wonder if I’ve missed this, what else have I failed to see?”
― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

Thanks for the thoughtful reply. I wasn’t certain this one worked out the way I had hoped it would, I was trying to promote the novel without writing a review, something I have never been very good at in the past, and when it was done I was hoping at least a few people would go out and find a copy.

The day I finished reading it I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done and just how profound this novel was, especially in light of the treatment it received when it was published (it was panned by almost everyone). I’m kind of surprised it took me this long to finally get around to it, but then timing is everything and I don’t think I would have understood the story if I’d read it even ten years ago.

I just want people to give it a shot because it may be his best work and that’s saying quite a bit. How he was able to see where we were headed in 1960 as clearly as this story plays out is almost mystical on some level and that’s the thing about writing that makes it so addictive. You think you know what you’re doing, but even as you put the words down something is happening to your perspective that hasn’t got anything to do with your intentions. That’s the part he was hinting at with his passage about children, fools and madmen. Laying out the words unveils something on the page beneath, by thinking through your idea, it reveals itself on its own.

Just a stunning piece of literature.

White Rationalist
White Rationalist

Just bought the Kindle version. Looking forward to the read.

James the Wanderer

Will do; not sure when I’ll find time to read it (consulting has picked up lately).

Uncola

it was panned by almost everyone

Part of that was because people expected another “Grapes of Wrath” and many were disappointed. So was Steinbeck; so much so he never wrote another novel (although I did enjoy his escapades as described in “Travels with Charley”).

Writer’s have “voices” and I often wonder if what they hear, and share, is their own egos. Then, as kind of sort of described in my “Peachy Keen” piece, cognitive dissonance (inconsistency of expectations) occurs when thoughts circle the ego like moths ’round a streetlight – even unto affecting perception and identity. It’s important to remain focused, or grounded, on what lies beneath, I think. The silence.

Thanks for being there, man. Again, ripples in the pond.

How the mind works: “Winter of Discontent” (1961), ego, identity, the trials and tribulations of Holden Caulfield a decade before (1951), ego, discontent – and J.D. Salinger’s retreat into the N.H. woods likely not far from Hardscrabble today.

Nature, and the pulse underlying…

All too often within my own thoughts: Redundancy is repetition and it repeats, too. And just as in the real world, redundant postings, and second looks, are necessary. Otherwise, we might miss it the first time. Like, for example, the first snow a few weeks ago; grounded in what lies beneath and all around.

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subwo
subwo

Thanks HF. I do enjoy your essays and look forward to reading them as they give me lots to ponder and reflect on my own life’s choices. Sloan Wilson’s “The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit” and also his “Pacific Interlude” came to mind while reading your essay. I can’t draw any connection to Steinbeck except perhaps the similar views of postwar America of the authors.

Vixen Vic
Vixen Vic

That was beautiful, Hardscrabble.

no one
no one

I can see a modern version of Walden coming soon. Before we moved to the suburbs of the sticks, I visited a few farms in Oklahoma.

This is a lovely little book about one of them.

https://www.powells.com/book/a-very-small-farm-9780806137780

j ob
j ob

Thank you so much. I read this after watching this small moment in time: https://www.zerohedge.com/news/2018-12-13/other-america-msm-wont-let-you-see
You are who I want to be but lack the courage. Your life was my plan 11 years ago but money became the object. I have not sold my soul for it but struggle daily with the need for it.
Thank you and blessings forever.

Robert (QSLV)
Robert (QSLV)

Maybe what you have found is a model for life after our system has burned itself out. I hate to imagine what the city folk will do when electric and clean water are no longer available.

Robert (QSLV)

White Rationalist
White Rationalist

They will become killers.

Harrington Richardson
Harrington Richardson

Those of us forced to deal with them would need to be ruthless, efficient, remorseless killers. They would merely be murderers and brigands. Ultimately compost. We hope.

White Rationalist
White Rationalist

Long long pig

Steve C
Steve C

Another very nice piece HSF.

I came across this quote a few decades ago and have always kept it close to mind.

“…The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside of us while we live…” — Norman Cousins – (June 24, 1915 – November 30, 1990) was an American political journalist and author.

Simply remembering those words seems to help keep me ‘grounded’.

Although I have never been very successful as a businessman, it has helped to make me successful as a person and I know which of those things is more important to me.

In the end, it really doesn’t matter if we have a million dollars or we owe a million dollars. When we finally leave these temporary biological containers that our soul wears like a spacesuit to live our physical lives, the only thing that any of us takes with us is the person that we were.

Your essay is a nice way of reminding us of that HSF. Thanks.

Unreconstructed
Unreconstructed

“…The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside of us while we live…”
Damn Steve. That’s some quote you gave there. All my working days I asked myself if I was making a living or making a dying. Now that my golden years are turning brown around the edges I realize that I have lived a pretty wasted life. Made a shitload of money and managed to keep everybody happy. Will update my bucket list and get busy while there is still a flicker left of life’s flame. Thanks to you and HSF for the article and comment.

Steve C
Steve C

We always think that there’s plenty of time to correct the thing that we know we were doing wrong. That there will be time to make it ‘right’, but then one day we realize that time passed us bye.

Keeping that quote and what it really means at hand has always helped me to remember that.

Glad you liked it. I hope it works for you too.

Curtis Miller
Curtis Miller

Masterful as always, HSF!

I’ll have to dig that book out and dive in!

OutWithLibs
OutWithLibs

Beautifully written, as usual HSF. Less is more (money/possessions/ “stuff” vs simple/hands-on/do-it-yourself accomplishments) does not seem to resonate with most people today. We have simplified our lifestyle to some degree over the last three years, not to your extent, but have found greater satisfaction in gardening, planting citrus and other fruit trees, and learning to transplant and root multiple trees and plants. We use the fresh water outlet behind our property for watering, and use solar on a small building in which my husband read in length about and installed himself.
Unfortunately, even with our own family members, keeping up with the Joneses is still their number one goal in life…..even as their debt is reaching proportions to that of our nation.
Some people get it, some don’t, and some don’t want to. But recognizing that true happiness is encompassed in the accomplishments of one’s self, not what money has purchased, robots have created, or government has provided, is soul touching satisfaction.

Not Sure

I hope someday to read Steinbeck’s book, but am a little fearful of having the truth exposed, without the oxycodine pills thrown in to make the harsh reality bearable.
We all try to prepare for our ends and if we are successful, we can take the reality in stride, as a final summation of all’s well that ends well. But for me, I’ve worked towards creating an end that resulted in divorce that caused me to start over from the beginning. Not that new beginnings are bad, on the contrary, to be given the chance to fall in love again is a real blessing, but this gets weighed with the time lost in starting over, as life closes in on the end game.
So I can’t say I’m ready for that dose of reality, but time is short and it seems we all will be facing our bitter pill at roughly the same time.
Oh well, some things you just can’t prepare for, but your words are still a comfort to me and I hope when the time is ripe, I can still find some beauty in the world, for we all hold treasures in our hearts that if we are wise enough not to sell them, will be what sustains us into our old age.

Ottomatik
Ottomatik

A perception, for what it is worth, the style and content of this article seems to be synthesizing into The Burning Platform namesake. The shades of Admins tutelage are evident and at times I felt the synergy, especially with Admins 2011 Grapes of Wrath.
Not that your individual voice was lost, especially here “we are somehow free from the price of the bloody snow”, but rather a coalescing of messaging shared through individual experiences.
As always thanks for your time and effort and in tandem thanks to Admin for not only The Burning Platform, but also for the incubator that allows all who have stepped up to the plate to have a nest for the future Turkeys.

Anonymous
Anonymous

Beautiful and thoughtful piece HSF. You have reached a level of introspection that I have not yet attained. I am going to read that book, and hope to peel back the onion layers covering up some kernels of my discontent. Thanks for the kick in the pants. (and also the chicken feet and beef bones). -ILuvCO2

Stucky

” …. swollen breasts the size of chickens, two pound thighs, enormous legs”

Almost gave me a woody. And then I remembered …

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NtroP
NtroP

Another great post, HardFarmer.
I will find and read the book soon.
Great time of year for reading here on the Northern plains.
Thanks

Stucky

“Here was a character who possessed everything anyone could ever want in life- a good name, a loving wife, healthy children, a secure home, the respect of his community and a family line that traced its roots back to “puritans and pirates” but who lacked only wealth. This he became certain was the key to his true happiness ….”

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The guy who built the above mansion (15,000 sq ft) in the 1890s absolutely had everything he wanted in life; a good name, education, a loving wife, healthy children, a fine home, the respect of his community and a family name linked to one of the Founding Fathers … AND he had lots of money. He wasn’t a Rockefeller, or a Carnegie, but he sure as heck was a One Percenter of his time.

He. Had. Everything. If having everything equates to happiness, then he should have been one of the happiest people in America.

But he had a vice. Just ONE vice. Many — perhaps most — of us have at least one vice (mine are cigars). With all he had going for him, what harm could Just One Vice be?

He loved to gamble. Within 25 years of building that house he was flat out broke. Lost everything. He died less than a mile from his mansion ….. in a single small room in a run down boarding house.

—–

Scary, isn’t it? If “a good name, a loving wife, healthy children, a secure home, the respect of his community, a family line AND money doesn’t guarantee happiness ………… then what does??

That’s something only each of us as individuals can answer. For a fortunate few, they know the answer from a very early age. For others (like, me), it’s a lifelong quest. Sadly, I think there are many who never figure it out.

Stucky

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Ms Freud and I live on this side of the mansion — the first two floors, not the third floor.

Not posting this to brag. After all, we are just RENTERS …. pissing away money every month we’ll never recover.

For the first several months we were like — “Wow!!”, “Isn’t this awesome!!”, “Amazing!!!”, “God, I love this place!”.

Now? I don’t really give shit about it. It’s just a building. It means nothing. When I leave, I won’t miss it one bit. In fact, I’m looking forward to getting a small 800-900 sq-ft log cabin in the mountains (how much space do two old people need??) ……. with a great view of the valley. I believe I will find happiness if I have a great view.

Here’s the thing; wherever I go …. there I am. I can’t get away from myself, especially from where I REALLY live, the thoughts in my head. Living outside in a tent, or a mansion, changes nothing inside.

That why I’m posting this . Saddens me to see younger people dreaming of owning that nice big Dream House in that nice respectable neighborhood, with good schools and the right kind of neighbors. Hey nothing wrong with a big house, but if you think that the end result will add one iota to your Happy Quotient, you will be greatly disappointed eventually. You think you’re dreaming big, when, in fact, you’re not dreaming big enough. Can you trust me on that?

James the Wanderer

“Scary, isn’t it? If “a good name, a loving wife, healthy children, a secure home, the respect of his community, a family line AND money doesn’t guarantee happiness ………… then what does??”
(1) There are no guarantees in life.
(2) Only your own strength, integrity, honor / duty / discipline, moral compass, etc. can help you navigate a society where manipulators and charlatans, thieves and liars, fools and ideologues plan your destruction daily. BE your pillar of strength, and MANIFEST the virtues you want to see in the world.

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

Dr. Pangloss said that some folks achieve self-actualization many times. Up to then, I thought it was a one and done sort of deal. There was this NYer cartoon with people lining up to climb several ladders, presumably ladders of success.

I mention all this to say that perhaps the builder of that castle also found it kinda boring after a while. Maybe he found out that his dream was more fulfilling than his actually achieving it. It sounds like Grizzly might be having the same realization.

Sometimes, the realization is that you are playing the man’s game, an artificial default plan that many don’t realize that they can customize. But then when boomers began to customize their life plans, millenials came along and called them selfish sociopaths, meh, what do they know?

Grizzly Bare
Grizzly Bare

EC, I love this patch of ground out here more and more with every passing day. The only thing I can imagine that would tear me away from it is to go even deeper into the wilderness and farther off the beaten path.

SmallerGovNow
SmallerGovNow

I’m looking forward to getting a small 800-900 sq-ft log cabin in the mountains.
It’s the way to go my friend… Chip

Mary Christine

“(how much space do two old people need??) ”

Not very much as long as no one snores or has restless leg syndrome.

no one
no one

Requip practically cured my husband’s RLS. As long as he takes the pill on time, no more getting kicked for me!

EL Zorro (EC)
EL Zorro (EC)

Stuck, hooked on cigars. What other Arnie traits do you have?

You got me thinking about things. You certainly have a wealth of ideas, a fount of concepts. I can tell your always pondering and cogitating in public even. I liked your comment, it could be its own article; The Falsities (sorry, I’m no Uncola, I have to make up words sometimes) of the American Dream.

America architecture has gone the way of the MacBurger, as old Pangloss said about Michelin tires, you won’t get a great burger but you won’t get a bad one either.

All these racial buffons like to point to 16th century churches as evidence of their own greatness. I look around and the only thing America has going for it was accomplished in the FDR era and the IKE era. What do we have now but McMansions and McEateries and McChildren and McCulture? And our culminating achievement? We went to the moon.

Testosterone-fueled Euros discovered the New World and conquered it with horses and swords, Americans discovered the remains of the Euro Empires; Guam, Puerto Rico, Grenada and Haiti and conquered them with aerial bombing. Wow.

What do you do after you reach the lunar frontier? Push the envelope of sexuality and explore the boundaries of gender.

As computers grow smaller and smaller, so too, our mentality. Speech is reined in, education dumb-ed down to ensure no [black] child is left behind. Whites are chained and hampered to prevent the least negro from feeling threatened by white privilege of gray matter (KaD’s mileage may vary).

Our fearless social engineers are equitable. They are working on developing white people with basketball skills by encouraging interbreeding of races to create a super-race of mulattoes. Soon we betas will be a footnote in the history of the super race.

Harrington Richardson
Harrington Richardson

This piece is a tour de force if there ever was one. Thank you.

Born to Morn
Born to Morn

Excellent piece.

You said: “There was an impotent anger that seethed beneath the words because it was unable to understand the cause of my disquiet; it was not what was being done to us but rather what we avoided doing for ourselves that led to our discontent.”

I think this is exactly right and I will take it a step further. I find myself regularly getting pissed at all the people and circumstance that are trying to screw us (and they are no doubt there). But that is not really why I roam around in a foul mood most of the time. It is because I refuse to do anything about it. I refuse to throw off the yoke of suburbia and all of its associated soul killing niceties. I refuse because I do not want to lose “the safe space” provided by what I have — even though I clearly do not want most of what I have and fully recognize that it is really nothing more than a distraction. It is a sad man my friend who looks straight away at the chains and chooses to keep them on.

I pray for a firmer dong (metaphorically of course as I have a ton of kids so there is no problem in a literal sense), and a more intentional life.

My best to everyone else too who is trying to extricate themselves not only from morbid societal circumstances, but from their own internal impotencies.

EL Coyote (EC)
EL Coyote (EC)

I pray for a firmer dong – B2M

This is a family blog, sir. I would ask that you please refrain but since it’s Friday…

Steve in PA
Steve in PA

Very nice HSF. I had typed up a longer reply but after reviewing it felt it was unworthy to be seen after that essay.

As someone who grew up in rural PA and raised by depression era grandparents I feel much of what you write. This line struck me right between the eyes as someone who desperately wants to cash out and move to the farm.

“As I looked in on them I thought that if they could do this for eight hours a day, for the five or six hundred dollars a week that it paid, what could they be capable of if their motivations were attuned to something of greater importance?”

My inlaws and wife don’t cherish a meal the way that I, and I suspect you, do. To them eating is just something you do and so what you eat doesn’t need to be respected. I however think that something died for me to eat so it is disrespectful to just “slap it together and put ketchup on it”

Pigs are my next venture but I don’t have the space right now. Currently my neighbors either don’t realize or tolerate the beehives in my yard. Pigs would be pushing it too far.

BUCKHED
BUCKHED

I remember “The Winter Of My Discount Tent ” …thanks Jim Mize.

Another fine bit of writing HSF .

Mary Christine

I have read only a few of Steinbecks books. Grapes of Wrath was required reading when I was in high school. For some reason, Travels With Charley has always been a favorite of mine. Maybe because my parents liked to go on road trips and would throw me in the back seat of the car with a pillow and a blanket before the sun came up and we would take off to wherever my dad had decided he wanted to go.

Winter Of Our Discontent is not one of those books so I will make it a Christmas present to myself.

In case you didn’t read my comment on Uncola’s essay, you might want to know that you look like Sam Elliot in my mind.

Merry Christmas, HSF!

ZombieDawg
ZombieDawg

Reality kicking in right now.
NO time left to wake up and focus on survival.

Next year:

This may well be an ELE – I’ve been tracking climate for 20 years and this bloody idiocy from Harvard could be utterly catastrophic, accelerating a natural cyclic cooling cycle. Bye bye food. Enjoy it this year. Next year….
Fuck taxes – who the hell is going to be left to pay them !!!

nkit
nkit

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Tactical Zen
Tactical Zen

How did you train those turkeys to walk in a circle? Impressive.

nkit
nkit

I posted this gif with the hope that HF, the turkey whisperer, might explain this ritual or whatever it is. Turkeys circling a dead animal (perhaps it was a turkey killer?) while on the far right Frosty seems to be making his getaway..

BL
BL

Nkit- Turkeys or turkey buzzards?? That may be the happy dance before they feast.

nkit
nkit

I hear you, Bea, but M R Turkeys, and I don’t think they’re carnivorous. Just a weird scene. A head scratcher.

BL
BL

Nkit- This video and a article on theverge.com says that according to experts this is a ritual called a “predator inspection”.

nkit
nkit

well, I did have a friend that got physically attacked by a domestic turkey. I don’t know if he planned to eat my friend, but he chased him up on top of his pickup truck. That was a much smaller predator inspection, I think…but a predator inspection none-the-less, I guess.

TS

HSF, you have a true talent for seeing. That’s undoubtedly a strong factor in your prior success as a comedian. And here you continue to show your outstanding ability to release that seeing in a beautiful manner that resonates with all.

“In every bit of honest writing in the world, there is a base theme. Try to understand men, if you understand each other you will be kind to each other. KNOWING A MAN WELL NEVER LEADS TO HATE and nearly always leads to love. There are shorter means, many of them. There is writing promoting social change, writing punishing injustice, writing in celebration of heroism, but always that base theme. TRY TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER!”

“As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment. Then gradually time awakened again and moved sluggishly on.”
Of Mice and Men

I see you trying to live by that awareness.
Well done, Farmer.

EL Zorro
EL Zorro

Trust Sessions, do you walk the talk? I mean, you were pretty harsh last time around. I have friends who may disagree with your point of view regarding moi (but not Meg).

TS

Did you read my last comment/reply to you on HollyO’s post? It might even have been the last comment on the whole thread before it disappeared.

EL Zorro (EC)
EL Zorro (EC)

I hope it was conciliatory or I won’t bother to go look for it.

Testy Scribe, have you ever seen or heard or read of something that you have to share or you can’t get rid of it? That was Iska’s joke. A lot of stuff here is like that. Folks share stuff to lessen the viscosity on the mind, like a thinner.

Unc was writing about the surprise of meeting somebody he knew only by voice, not sight. When you don’t kno readers, you conjure up an image you can deal with, certainly not one of a monster or irascible oaf. Although there were quite a few of those in the early days. Today, we deal more with schlubby millenials.

Unregistered never complained about me playing with variations of his moniker, I guess I cut loose too soon with you. Sorry.

TS

That is the problem described so often…if we can’t see the body language or hear the tone of voice, misunderstandings occur more often than not, until there is a history of interaction.
I tend to be very diligent (not always successfully) to write exactly what I mean, in whatever style. I tend to, unconsciously, expect that from others, who may not be as exact in their written word.
It wasn’t too soon; I just had the impression that you were pushing on me for no other reason than to do it. I don’t get offended, I just have learned that to not confront only emboldens. When pushed, I will warn. After that, it’s game on.
In other words – it’s not the behavior or statements, it’s what I perceive as the attitude/mindset behind it.
And you have to admit, there have been many comments from you to many people that I just couldn’t see the point of, or how it was anything but demeaning. That was an impression, whether correct or not, that influences my reactions. Once again, perhaps your humor is expressed differently, or you had an ulterior motive that is not apparent to me.
Thank you for the explanation.

EL Contrite (EC)
EL Contrite (EC)

“There have been many comments from you to many people that I just couldn’t see the point of, or how it was anything but demeaning.” – Tout Suite

People here write anonymously. That means one is often confronted with an iteration, a collection of words that give offense or tickle one’s fancy. It’s like that spontaneous response to a graffito, ‘what about us grils?’

Somebody leaves a comment and thus invites a response. A particularly odd comment elicits a response like an aroma or stench will.

In the past, the big dogs would assign the offender a persona, and not a gratifying one. They would attack that commenter’s sexual preference, low birth, libertine maternal unit and gender-confused paternal simian. That was before addressing their moronic poorly informed drivel submitted from the nether regions of a thin metal walled hovel.

I offer all this by way of giving you an idea where I may have gone all wrong like a tatted-up, meth-head, wayward teenage strumpet from a broken home.

I shall try to reform my ways but since there is no consideration or, to wit, remuneration, it cannot be a legal transaction and thus, like my buddy, Unenforceable.

TS

“In the past, the big dogs would assign the offender a persona, and not a gratifying one. They would attack that commenter’s sexual preference, low birth, libertine maternal unit and gender-confused paternal simian. That was before addressing their moronic poorly informed drivel submitted from the nether regions of a thin metal walled hovel.”

Nice imagery.

I can deal with all that. I simply try to respond in the same manner, and double-down at the first hint that whomever dished it out can’t take it, regardless of who they are. A hard-learned characteristic. But that’s just me, and I am just as liable to go too far as anyone else. We all love to justify ourselves.
There. Discerning minds want to know –
Did I walk the talk?

EL Zorro (EC)
EL Zorro (EC)

T4C is the kind of woman you don’t ask, “Was it good for you?” What you do is jump out of bed, do a couple of push-ups and get up and do a Tarzan yell. Additionally, if you are feeling spry, you yell, ‘Next!’

I don’t know her personally but that makes no difference, she’s female and fem to boot.

TS
Bob in Apopka
Bob in Apopka

Smart and talented work, makes me think about, and question my own life’s choices. Which is a good thing. Loved it. btw the syrup arrived. We will try it xmas morning. ty . I hope you, and yours have a great holiday.

James
James

A nice view of the cycle of life.I can hunt/fish and while appreciate/make use of all I can while anything I cannot goes back to the critters could never raise animals and one day have to slaughter them,feel I would develop at that point a bond I could not cross,just don’t have the mental strength.I will as I get more land start very small and work on things like chickens for eggs/perhaps try a hive or two/and,as time moves forward perhaps even a few goats for milk,this,after learning all I can about the best ways to make these attempts.

I would see this as a mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship in that I give them safe haven to best of ability/care ect. and in return I get a few eggs/honey and milk.I realize also first must make sure I have someone who would home/continue such a relationship with said critters in case I died ect.,tis part of the safe haven mentality.

I will say those who can raise animals and someday slaughter them gives one a closer view of the whole life cycle/a satisfaction in eating well raised critters without a lot of the additives and all the other junk many times found in large scale yards ect. and folks like me who do not have the strength to do it a chance at getting some decent meats to buy,and for that I thank them.

Francis Marion

Been saving this one for a weekend morning when I could drink my coffee and read it without being rushed. I’m rushed all the time these days it seems. Time feels like it is winding up, speeding up and the events that go with it are spiraling out of control.

Things are not well here. I believe factions that have been the dominant political force here for the past decade are now on their way out. But it will not be without cost. They are not going to go quietly or without incident and the pattern seems to be that whatever plans they had for us over the long term are being ramped up as they too sense that time is short. The damage that is being done in the process is likely reversible but not without cost.

Our next election is in the fall of 2019 but I question whether or not we will make it without something catastrophic happening.

I keep wondering why I am what I am doing what I do in the time I am in. None of it makes sense from the perspective of self-preservation. What is my purpose, my place? Am I the turkey or the farmer? If I had a choice right now I’d sell it all and find someplace quiet to start over but that’s no longer an option. I am stuck in my place in this story and will have to play my role to its conclusion, whatever that may be.

At any rate – this is probably one of the best pieces I’ve read from you. It was worth the wait to read.

nkit
nkit

Good post, FM. Hope you didn’t gobble your breakfast down too quickly.

Hardscrabble Farmer
Hardscrabble Farmer

I’m laying in the ER with a broken ankle…
Fell out of tree about an hour ago.
Send me some good thoughts.

nkit
nkit

Here’s to a very quick recovery, HF. Get well soon, and write some more since your tree climbing days are over – at least for a while.

Stucky

What the hell is a grown old man doing in a tree?

Weren’t you a Green Beret, or paratrooper, or sumthin’? I thought those guys could run 5 miles with two BROKEN LEGS!!?

You want “good thoughts”??? My God, change your name to SnowflakeFarmer.

Suck it up, Mister! Quit being a pussy. You better walk out of that ER in the next 10 minutes on your own two feet!!”. Jeezus, you can stick your hand up a cow’s ass and pull out a live cow, but you can’t walk on a broken ankle? This country is so damned doomed.

Anonymous
Anonymous

Hey, by the way…how’s the nail hole in your hoof healing, Stuck?
Are you back to tap dancing for the Mrs?
Or are you still gimping around a lil’ bit?

EL Zorro (EC)
EL Zorro (EC)

Stuck, with friends like you, who needs enemas?
Sorry if that offends you.

RiNS

that made me laugh Stucky… thanks man..

Unplanned
Unplanned

Given the time of year, it could be the best of times, or worst of times, depending on your interpretation. Be well, rest easy, learn, and, hopefully, write about it one day and/or on the way.

no one
no one

Good thoughts and lots of prayers, I’m sure, in your name.

Suds
Suds

Our farmer who art in rehab, injuries are no shame.
Thy syrup come; my waffle’s done; a bottle full’s like heaven.
Given this blog, with daily threads.
So forgive us our misspellings, as we forgive those who correct us.
And lead us not, into 4th turnings; but deliver us from their evil.
-> Deliver us, Lord, from political evil, and grant us fleece on cold days.
Keep this free for Admin, and protect us from progtard anxiety,
As we wait with plenty of hope for the coming of more flavor, reading those who we find nice.
For the internet, the farmer, and his stories are ours, bookmarked and saved forever. Again.

RiNS

that was a great bit Suds.. awesome!

TS

OW! That hurts!

A few years ago I had to go get a broke-dick bull in. Bulls are really big, but they are really fast. He knocked my horse down on top of me. Broke my ankle, twisted my other knee seriously and the horse rolled up on top of me, pinching my guts really badly. No broken ribs, but real internal concerns for a while.
I had to get back on the horse, who was rattled but not hurt, and ride a few miles home, driving the bull ahead of me. I went into shock so bad after about 15 minutes that I had to get off the horse and kneel down before I passed out. I finally was able to get back on and get home. Trust me, it really sucks having to get down and back up a few times to get gates.

My condolences, HSF, those broken bones are seriously no fun. It’s good you have someone with you during the healing process.

Anonymous
Anonymous

Have no doubts…you’ll be back on your feet in no time, and back in the ring, shuffling around and beating back the challenges with jabs and uppercuts.

Francis Marion

Between you and Stucky there seems to be a competition running to see who can hurt themselves the hardest these days. Stop it!

EL Zorro (EC)
EL Zorro (EC)

Get well soon!

Vixen Vic
Vixen Vic

Oh, no! But as a mom, I have to ask: Why were you in a tree? Don’t you know you could poke an eye out? 🙂

Hope you recover quickly.

IluvCO2
IluvCO2

Oh no, sorry to hear about that. Stay out of trees man. Hope your room tv doesn’t get stuck on CNN.

Word to the Wise
Word to the Wise

Oh, that’s no fun! It will keep you out of commission for awhile. Good time for lots more reading while hunkering down and the Winter weather hits.

For a farmer, I’d suggest -maybe consider a “SunJoe”. Its a sturdy tall pole with a chain saw on the end of it for the high up stuff. It can extend to about 15′ up, higher with a ladder, and keeps you safely on the ground. Just sayin’.

Then again, while you are laid up – this is a great time to peruse those beautiful seed catalogs coming in the mail for next years crop of food for your garden. It’s a time to go wild and pick out everything, and more, to grow through the coming year. Kind of like running madcap through Macy’s picking out everything you’ve always wanted……..THEN…….get back down to earth, check the budget and get real. Those catalogs will be coming along soon and there is nothing like going out into your garden and picking tomatoes, beans, onions right from the soil that you know what you’ve built.

Get better soon. But enjoy it while you can.

EL Zorro (EC)
EL Zorro (EC)

Word to your Momma, HF is a farmer not a homesteading gardener. I can’t imagine you hurting his feelings more if you suggested he take a remedial course in English or if you tried to teach him the basics of telling a joke. But go ahead and tell him how soon he’ll be out there getting yuks and being the life of the party.

Was I unduly harsh, Too Sensitive?

TS

Nope, apropos and was edgy but not malicious. Wise seemed to be sincere and to have meant well – almost child-like in his… innocence? naiveté? – but his assumptive advice definitely did not seem relevant to one such as HSF. Perhaps the irony of name/response will not be lost.
Having said that, HSF probably would’ve sat right down with him and discussed seeds and harvests and ways to not drop like a nut out of a tree again.

EL Zorro (EC)
EL Zorro (EC)

You’re catching on Tropo Sphere. HF is too kind. He would even play along if it didn’t hurt to laugh right about now.

nkit
nkit

what are you laying in the ER? Eggs?

Mongoose Jack
Mongoose Jack

Dang! Sorry to hear. Get better soon. Great essay and so timely. All the best.

KeyserSusie
KeyserSusie

Healing thoughts your way on the injury. We will expect moar good written words while you are laid up.

A famous CPA financial advisor to high rolling dentists used to say the best financial advice he has to give is stay off ladders & trees.

I almost lost my brother last year when he was trimming a tree branch with a ladder against the main trunk. The whole tree fell down while he was up high. Ten days in the hospital.

RiNS

I was thinking about a movie then read your bit. They run concurrent.

A great movie and a great essay! Thanks…

Two if by sea. Three,if from within thee
Two if by sea. Three,if from within thee

Thank you for taking the time, HSF

dunno y
dunno y

Some learn this at an early age while others learn it on a death bed. The art of a dime novel is to paint a thousand pictures of time through paths already traveled.

Word to the Wise
Word to the Wise

Hardscrabble, I purchased a few of the books you recommended on your website and they are exceptional. Books by the Nearings are a wealth of knowledge. Here are a few that you might find great reading while re-cooperating from your broken ankle –

All 5 volumes of “Stories and Recipes of the Great Depression” by Rita Van Amber.

These fascinating books are a great wealth of knowledge of doing so much with very little and from what grows in the garden and neighbors share. The true stories from people who lived it will come around again one of these days in the not too far off distance.

“Building and Using Our Sun-Heated Greenhouse – Grow Vegetables All Year-Round”
by Helen and Scott Nearing

“Seeds of Destruction” by F. William Engdahl

“Countryside and Small Stock Journal”
https://countrysidenetwork.com/magazine-previews/100-years-countryside-and-small-stock-journal/
This is a priceless magazine for those of us who have a garden, barnyard animals, bee keeping, raising goats, or just want to learn great new ways to cook, share with like minded folks, the latest govt laws concerning farming and animals and sooo very much more. They are celebrating their 100 years in publication which says a lot!

Mangledman
Mangledman

Once again, a very good read! I came from the woods and landed on the farm when I was 12. I thought I would finish my days there. Everything I ever wanted or needed was there on the land. 24 acres of centuries old forest that sunlight never hit the floor. The temperature fell 5* in the first 20 feet into the forest. The canopy was so thick that I shot my first squirrel 3 feet off the ground when he came to the floor to drink from the creek. The canopy was a solid wall of green at 60 feet, most of the trees were more than 30 inches with some leaving stumps as big as 6 feet after the place was ravaged by the logger that built a brand new stone home and retired after giving my father $2000. I cut firewood and burned brush for many years.

Meanwhile on the other side of the road, 33 acres of tillable land we raised hogs, chickens and cattle and rented the rest to sharecroppers. I raised a family there, when life changed, things and stability was an illusion I sold myself.

Mangledman
Mangledman

The music is really showing our age. The phone went crazy and wouldn’t shrink so I hit post, because it wouldn’t shrink to proofread. Keep your steel sharp and your powder dry

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