To Be a Pig

We didn’t raise pigs last year, and I had forgotten how much I enjoy having them around. They keep me company when I am in the garden and their antics are entertaining. This group naps a lot:

Joel Salatin talks about “the pigness of pigs,” meaning that animals do best when they are allowed to express their inherent natures. The pigs’ favorite activities are rooting up the pasture and napping—wash, rinse, repeat. We try to give all our animals a good life.

[I may be going to Self-Reliance Festival in Camden, Tennessee, in October. The keynote speaker at that event will be Joel Salatin. (!!!!!) The husband suggested that if I go, I take our copy of Everything I Want to Do is Illegal and ask him to autograph it.]

It has been annoyingly windy here lately. I don’t like wind. It sets my teeth on edge. The wind seems to have subsided since last evening and I’m hoping it stays calm this week. People are already talking about fire season as it looks like we’re in for above-average temps and below-average precipitation this summer. And given that we seem to have a lot more stupid and selfish people living here now, the odds of someone doing something that sets off a big fire are increasing.

I know I sound like an old fart, but the makeup of this valley has changed drastically in the past couple of years. Apparently, many of the transplants came here thinking “Montana = no laws and I can do whatever I want.” Wandering dogs are a huge issue. One of our neighbors’ goats was killed by a dog belonging to another neighbor. Montana law allows landowners to shoot dogs that harm or kill their livestock. The owner of the goat shot the dog, and the owner of the offending animal was given a hefty fine.

Trash is everywhere. I’ve seen video of people dumping trash in the woods. People hit and damage vehicles and fences and just drive off. Theft is commonplace. Last week, a 71-year-old man was beaten up in a road rage incident south of us. He ended up in the ICU. (I heard he has been released, but the assailant is still at large.) These kinds of incidents used to be rare here. And then there is the case of the San Diego couple who built a house on MacDonald Creek up in Glacier Park without getting the requisite permits, because who needs permits in Montana? Surely one can do whatever one pleases, right?

It’s hard to watch a place you love being destroyed. Our road used to be a slow meander along the mountains, perfect for cyclists and walkers. Now, drivers get to the north corner of our property, make a slight turn, and accelerate to ridiculous speeds down the straight section past our house. (I wish spike strips were legal. That would resolve this issue.) People drive as though they are the only ones on the road.

We’re failing as a society.

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This week will be spent getting ready for the plant sale on Saturday. There are always a thousand little details that have to be attended to. I’ve got three pages of running lists for all the projects I’m managing at the moment. I spent a few hours in the greenhouse yesterday afternoon, making up labels and organizing plants. Some of what is in there will be planted in our garden, so I need to have those trays of plants separate from the sale inventory.

I haven’t sewn anything in almost a month. I’ve been knitting more, just because it’s portable and easy to pick up and put down. I’m looking forward to sewing again, though, especially on my industrial machines (lockstitch and serger).