I have a low-grade fever.
One low enough for me to feel hot rather than cold.
The thing born from friction come of the strife between infecting agent and bodily defense,
though breakfast’s medicinal (culinary, if I’m being honest) Scotch Bonnet disputes
lymphocytes as soul originators of my clam skinned forehead.
I’ve the day off, which is good, because I don’t make a lot of sense.
I’ve begun fleshing out the previously empty pages.
The message on the previously blank pages, “In Status Nascendi,” is Latin for coming soon.
Technically, it means “in the process of being born,” but the two are similar enough.
I thought now that I am clearing the message off of all the pages,
perhaps I should explain the meaning behind it.
I’ve given a brief explanation of Scientia Potenita Est on its page.
I’ve also uploaded a bit of research I did on homesteading in Central Pennsylvania.
Don’t expect The Self-Sufficient Life and How to Live It.
Or even Farm City.
I hadn’t the time to do the former nor was I granted the freedom of focus to attempt the latter.
I hope this site grows into something like a merger of both. They’re each worth reading, and my scrabbled paper makes a primer for those thinking more of a shoreline dip than a dock-end plunge. I hope you’ll check out each.
Still sick, still unfocused, still unable to hit the “publish” button. There’s something I mean to say but I don’t know what. I have that annoying feeling of worrying at something embedded, maybe a rock in mud, or a bad tooth, something that’s there and bothersome and constantly obscured. The more one digs, the more mud he dislodges to cover up, the more the tissue swell.
I’ve avoided taking cold medication,
beyond herbal and black teas,
so as not to addle my mind further, but I don’t feel much clearer now than I did when I first woke up to take Mary to her work.
Having stared off into a space some seven or eight inches behind my monitor for what, by the clock was eleven minutes, I’ve come upon the answer to my impacted problem.
Or, at least, part of it.
The second of today’s updates is the beginning of Farmer Al’s Indoor Alchemical Agronomy.
As one might assume, I’m quite amused by alliteration.
The meaning of that section,
which I fully realize is obscured solely for the purpose of my self-amusement through wordplay,
is laid out there.
In short, that is where the winter’s projects will go.
In my ideal existence, I live in a naturalized mansion, incorporated seamlessly with the picturesque woods and waterfall around it, resplendent with a massive solarium so that I never need go a day without something being at its growing peak.
In reality, I’ve got a very small, very dark yard and a plethora of indoor growing materials.
In reality, I live in a temperate climate.
Growing indoors is a must for me.
Head to Farmer Al’s Indoor Alchemical Agronomy for further explanation.