Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   constipated clay-rich
Wednesday, July 28 2010
Last night Gretchen had come in from New York City while I lay asleep. Gretchen was busy today writing a friend's autobiography (she has a speculative job as a ghost writer), so while she was engaged in that ever-frustrating job, I took a break at some point to drive to our CSA and pick up our weekly ration. Leading us to wonder somewhat about the soundness of our particular CSA, there had been no weekly ration at all last week. This week for the first time we got squash as part of our haul, the first food that neither I nor Gretchen much like (though I like it enough that I could imagine working it into one of my curries). Still, we'd received three squashes; it was pretty clear we'd be giving two of those away to squash-loving friends. Our CSA allottment still contains no tomatoes.
On my drive back from the CSA, I picked up five buckets of soil for the augmenting our meagre supply of yard soil. The Town of Hurley is always putting out different sorts of fill on the Esopus floodplain near the Hurley Mountain Inn. One can choose between gravel, wood chips, clay subsoil, or head-sized chunks of asphalt. Today there was a new pile of largely impurity-free sand. So I took five gallons of that. Given the constipated clay-rich soils of our yard, sand is always an improvement.

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