written by

Drausin Wulsin

posted on

July 5, 2014




Reminding us of home



Butterflies on the butterfly flower and day lilies lining the roadside


Dancing shadows from the late evening sun.

The impermanence of technology is a source of both heightened effectiveness and deep frustration in our lives. At this moment, I am trying to include three more pictures in this correspondence, which temperamental technological gods have decided not to allow. The pictures are of: black-eyed susan's, wild roses, and blackberries bushes. So, for the time being, we will imagine them. When the behavior of those gods returns to normalcy, we will share the pictures.

We will not be at the Hyde Park Farmers Market this Sunday

Our egg-mobile has been finally completed and within 10 days, we will have meat chickens for sale. Neither of these products is permitted for us to sell at the HPFM, for some reason, so please start to use our on-line ordering system. We will make deliveries to the Hyde Park neighborhood on Wednesday afternoons to a delivery point near Ault Park. And if that doesn't work, contact us and we will work out delivery that does.

So, the flowers of summer remind us of beauty and heat and vibrancy of the eco-system in which we live. They are faithful and permanent. They allow the soil to regenerate and in so doing, offer bounty such as grassfed foods to enhance lives.

See you on Sunday July 13, if not sooner.

Drausin & Susan

More from the blog

Sacred Place

It is a privilege to know a sacred place, as I feel I do. In some ways, it seems sacred places are supposed to be scarce and remote, like Stonehenge, Chartres Cathedral, the Taj Mahal, or abandoned Pueblo dwellings. Large landscapes, like the desert, ocean, or mountain ranges feel imbued with the divine. Alaska, the Amazon, and the Serengeti invite a sense of awe. One travels to such places, in pilgrimage. And sometimes such places reorganize the pilgrim's sense of order, inviting disorder or change, that can be both painful and uplifting.

Big Muddy

Here is the Lower Mississippi River, 45 feet below normal pool. Over Thanksgiving, Susan and I shoehorned ourselves onto a cruise ship to learn about the lower Mississippi and its bayou. We started in Memphis and ended up in New Orleans, with stops along the way to explore river towns. This river is the third longest on the planet, providing drainage to 40% of North America. It has historically deposited silt yearly in its floodplains, producing topsoil 120 feet deep, making these soils some of the richest in the world. Vast wetland forests grew beside its banks, of cypress, oaks, and sycamores, populated by a rich array of black bears, deer, bobcats, alligators, and aquatic life. This was the legendary bayou.

Streams & Souls

Streams and souls seem to share character. They are life-giving, they are coveted, they can be impeded, they can be channelized, they can be overwhelmed, they flood, they dry up, they flow downhill, they are a force of both change and constancy, they lie at the center of a community, they will not be denied, and because of this great complexity, they attract periodic resistance. So, it seems that streams may serve as a metaphor for the journey of the soul.