There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
by Shel Silverstein
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
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The Third Reich had the one pot meal and it will be coming soon to the Bidenreich.
We’re all in this together, comrades.
One big happy patriotic egalitarian rainbow latrine family.
Forward! Yes we can!
So, let me see if I’ve got the gist of this video. Trans Caucasian She-Hulk of a wife performs hours of back breaking labor in all phases of meal preparation, to include using an ax to create the heat source for her primitive oven. And all this as cute bunnies twitch their cute bunny noses in their cute bunny pens
Meanwhile, her husband does his fair share of meal prepping labors by collecting flowers in a field where cute puppies frolic … You have really outdone yourself on this one, GVDL
I’ll betcha that ol’ gal is tougher than a keg of square nails.
Henceforth, toughen up a little bit! Yeah that gal is tough, grew up on a farm. She doesn’t look starved for calories I would say, to be nice.
My cousin and 2X Afghanistan toured veteran via invite from the 82nd Airborne, invited his brothers, a few friends and I to a camping adventure out in Butler County. Mostly plains with a few ponds and a enough trees to avoid the sun, and to camp under.
My cousin had an agenda marked on a printed chart broken out into 15 minute increments. OK. Mid-way into the agenda there was a pistol shooting exercise that moved into a camp fire building event along with a young goat which he decapitated quickly and quite humanely. All of us have camped, hunted and shot guns prior, but we were there to process through his agenda. We gutted and skinned the goat. We roasted that animal as our surprise dinner.
I would have been happy with a can of tamales, but this was my cousin’s event. We also had a couple loaves of French bread but that was it. Campfire roasted goat and bread. Oh yeah, and beer. That is adequate camping for me. If you wanted Jello or Waldorf salad with a lightly chilled Chenin Blanc also, you were at the wrong event.
Toward dusk, most of the guys set up tents. My cousin had this weird military cold weather jumpsuit, put it on, and slept in a chair next to the fire, with bare feet. I wasn’t going to put up any fag tent and simply put my sleeping bag on a cot in the open, then pegged down a tarp, loosely over top to avoid moisture from condensation. A horse came by twice during the night and pulled the tarp off of me. Bastard.
My other cousins all slept in tents and told me the next day they froze their asses off that night. They thought I was badass for camping in the open. I didn’t tell them I froze my ass off too. That was a great event. If I could definitively count on bad weather, a campout in the rain would be a good experience in the future.
I think I had a point when I started writing this but I lost that train of thought. Regardless, it was interesting to see Gerard’s post of the farm work and cooking of that goat.