To my door for vertical planting, I have added two windows, fished out from behind our garden bench where I stashed them ages ago after they were removed from our house. Purpose? A new pea trellis! And possibly a cucumber trellis after peas are done. I topped up the bed today also with compost and mushroom manure since this bed is a tad shady in the spring and I want to give those peas all the help they can get.
One nice thing about the neighbour’s ugly fence is that I no longer worry about doing things which are aesthetically unpleasing to him.
Also today, I built a little plot for Fava Beans out of some cheap edging from Re-Store:
I totally forgot about the awesomeness of Re-store until today when I went in and got 2 large terracotta garden planters, 2 5-foot long pieces of bamboo edging, 5 burlap coffee bags and some tile for $30. Plus, it’s all stuff that’s saved from going into landfills, and it supports a good cause!
Right now, in these last days of February, the yard looks like this:
…which is somewhat better than it looked two weeks ago, but I still have a *long* way to go before it’s in any sense done for the summer. 3 more boxes to top up, plus some support for the other beds, planters to plant, seeds to go in, vertical gardening projects to be finished, etc. etc. etc. And the front yard! Well, I think I will hire a friend’s company to build a bit more structure into which will help out a lot – but still, it needs a lot of labour on our end to finish what we started last year.
Besides all that hard work – made even harder by the fact the ground was frozen today – I managed to pickle eleven jars of red cabbage, and made my way to a demo in support of teachers. Tonight it’s burgers and D&D with friends – and I am again grateful for this decision to go down to 4 days a week at work. My Mondays are so productive!
Things come alive in fits and starts once the days get longer. My evergreen clematis is making signs of flower for the first time.
Garlic is the first edible to show itself, in time with other bulbing plants which foreshadow the true spring weather.
Blueberry growth like arrows pointing upwards to new life after a winter of sleep.
And the rhizome of rhubarb births new leaves, drinking water from the sky to replenish its roots towards a new year.

Want a little glimpse of the inside of our home? (Hint: that’s not our home in the photo above).
For a real glimpse – I am offering a peek into our personal library on Library Thing – a project Brian has been working on for some time. I’m somewhat abashed to admit that between the two of us we’re pushing the 1500 mark. Still a little ways to go, but given our book-acquisition habits, I can see we’ll be there in under a year.
This project of cataloguing began when I decided to rectify the organization of books in our home – which we had hastily done upon moving in, but with the building of the bookshed two years ago we needed to update. This I did in the fall, relegating all the non-fiction to the office and bookshed, keeping poetry, fiction and drama for the bedroom shelves. In our dining area we have one bookcase of collectibles. There was nothing intentional about this decision exactly – the bedroom books just fit better on the bedroom shelves – but I have to admit that I like having all those stories crowding our private room, not to mention poetry quickly at hand for lazy mornings in bed, or bathtime meditations. It’s cozier to bed down with imaginings rather than facts.
I was thinking about this yesterday after reading this blog post at publishers weekly where the author admits to a large collection of 371 books, only about 80 of which he has read. Now I don’t consider 371 books much of a collection at all – at least not in any way problematic – but I don’t understand having a collection that is largely unread. Several commenters on the post go on to admit to their own book-collecting tendencies which involve (in some cases) rooms stacked floor-to-ceiling with books which have never been opened. Mostly these people have intentions to read the books they own, though some don’t even have that – one commenter admitting to simply being in thrall with the new ink and paper smell, he has a room in which his books are packed away as soon as they are opened, not even perusable in their crammed-together state.
Brian and I may have a ridiculous number of books, but between the two of us, most of them have been read. In the to-read piles at any given time are thirty titles which remain unshelved until they are read. Books that stick around in the to-read pile for “too long” without being considered for reading, end up in the discard pile eventually – and on it goes.
There was a time when I was getting into that dangerous territory of shelving books without reading them – back when I was subscribed to the Friends of AK Press who sent me tremendous volumes from the anarchist archives which I had little interest in – and so I put a stop to that. Books must be intentionally chosen if they are to come into our home – otherwise, the shame of the uncracked spine will forever stare out from the shelf accusingly. Ownership for ownership’s sake only cuts it in the world of collectible books – recent reprints of Rudolph Rocker do not fit in this category. Besides the collectibles (some of which are too fragile to read) – if I am not going to read it, I do not need to own it.
But once I have read and loved a book, I cannot let it go. I find myself plagued with the memory of books which I have let out of my possession in purges past. I am upset with myself over hastily-made choices when I reach for something to lend to a friend and it isn’t there. Though I recognize that if I held onto all the books I had ever read and loved, there wouldn’t be room for anything new to make it onto the shelves.
These days we take a lot of books out of the library first, read them, and then decide whether we need to also own them. So far that has happened with about 1/10th of the books we have taken out – research and political theory books mainly, though the occasional novel gets purchased via that route as well. This really works to quell some of the urge for acquisition – for instead of being on the opt-out model (whether I want to keep a purchased book or not requires a decision to part with something), we are forced into the effort of opting-in to acquisition.
Even so, there are books which I instantaneously covet, and which I know I will want a first-edition hardcover copy of in twenty years – and those get purchased without library vetting. Plus there are so many cheap and free books out there, and we bring an awful lot of those into our home too. Probably about half of the to-read pile at any given time is made up of free books.
At the moment I am reading The Berlin Stories by Christopher Isherwood for school. In the library pile are two books which must be read in the next week: Flourish: A Visionary New Understanding of Happiness and Well-being and Out of Character: Surprising Truths about the Liar, Cheat, Sinner (and Saint) Lurking in All of Us. Once I dispatch those, I’m onto Camus:A Romance and Voltaire’s Bastards which are both leering at me from the weight bench in our bedroom (a weight bench which has seen very little action beyond being a holder of books). Plus more reading for school – I have about six more readings to get through before the end of April. Oh, and then there’s the new Umberto Eco which just came in the mail last week – This is Not the End of the Book. I should definitely hope not!
If I could have the funds to start-up any project in Vancouver, it would be this.

As we’ve seen throughout this book, our private experiences generated by thinking about our individual purpose, the meaning of life, the afterlife, why bad things happen to good people, and so on, are highly seductive, emotionally appealing, and intuitively convincing — in most cases leading directly to belief in God. It is therefore more than a little foolhardy to think that human nature can ever be “cured” scientific reason. As a way of thinking, God is an inherent part of our natural cognitive systems, and ridding ourselves of Him –really, thoroughly, permanently removing Him from our heads — would require a neurosurgeon, not a science teacher. So the real issue is this: knowing what we know now, is it wise to trust our evolved, subjective, mental intuitions to be reliable gauges of the reality outside our heads, or do we instead accept the possibility that such intuitions in fact arise through cognitive biases that——perhaps for biologically adaptive reasons—lead our thinking fundamentally away from objective reality? Do we keep blindly serving our genes and continue falling for this spectacular evolutionary ruse of a caring God, or do we peek behind the curtain and say, “Aha! That’s not God, that’s just Nature up to her dirty little tricks!”
Jesse Bering, The Belief Instinct
As we learned earlier in this chapter, however, we also possess an especially effective, adaptive safeguard to protect our genes against our evolved impulses and our vulnerably overconfident judgment: the inhibiting sense of being observed. Again, ancestrally speaking, eyes meant carriers, and carriers meant gossip. What further derails our selfish streak is the conscious awareness that an observer can identify us as an individual: a specific person with a name and a face. The more obvious —or traceable— our individual identity, the less likely
we are to engage in intemperate, high—risk behaviors that, though they may well reap immediate payoffs, can also hobble our overall reproductive success, owing to the adaptive problem of gossip. Only a rather dim—witted bank robber, for example, would enter his targeted establishment without a disguise. If one is convinced of being absolutely unidentifiable, the fear of punishment—or retribution vanishes. The famous social psychologist Leon Festinger referred to this general phenomenon as the process of “deindividuation,” which “occurs whenever “individuals are not seen or paid attention to as individuals.” ” Deindividuation is quite clearly a potentially dangerous scenario for the social group as a whole; if the individual actor cannot be identified, then the threat of gossip loses that personal punch, one that otherwise helps keep the actor’s egoistic needs in check.Deindividuation is, of course, at the core of a mob mentality. It can also lead to acts of brutal violence against out—group members, because a “deindividuated” person is absorbed into an anonymous group identity and no longer fears the consequences of toting around an insolvably tarnished reputation. When faced with a frenzied mass of angry, anonymous people, relatives and friends of the out—group victim wouldn’t know where to begin looking for revenge against a specific perpetrator. In anthropological circles, it is well known that Warriors who hide their identities before going into battle are more likely to kill, mutilate, or torture than are those who do not bother to disguise themselves.