No, it's not a new disease, it's just how I felt it. As if a virus the size of an elephant had fallen on me. Broke all my bones, crushed my head, set me on fire. Have no idea how a falling elephant could set me on fire but I surely had a severe fever because I was on the verge of hallucinations.
The worst of all was that I just couldn't have a beer. Just thinking of beer made me sick, the fever rose, I quickly had to have some tea and disappear under doubled blankets. It took me four days to get back to normal and I'm ashamed to admit that I really had to stay one day at home, in bed. There's so much to do. When I started hallucinating I was drilling holes in logs. Thousands of holes. For planting Lentinula edodes, better known as Shiitake mushroom. Here's a small sample of the work, a hundred logs.
Multiply by five and you have the work of two days for four workers.
The other thing that is keeping me busy is the field I inherited. Do you remember a little chap, riding the bamboo stick, that moved away with his parents? I got one of their fields. It's near, less than a minute walk, and few weeks ago it looked like this.
I actually worked on it only in my free time, two hours here and an afternoon there and in five days I repaired the fence, made a gate and managed to do some cleanup. And already started planting, mostly exotic plants like Brassica napobrassica, Brassica oleracea (the Gongylodes cultivar), Origanum vulgare and Solanum lycopersicum (the Marmande and Coeur De Boeuf heirloom cultivars). Also some more common Allium sativum found a place on the field.
I took this picture today, when I've had enough of working in the mud and rain.
Yes, in the lower left corner is a beer bottle. Empty. Well, empty of beer; full of cigarette butts in water, stinking like hell and it will make a great pest repellent. And to fight the moles I will try what I saw last year in Eomsa-ri, Gyeryongsan.
In windy weather the sound made is supposed to scare the moles. I will try to make them with beer bottles, for sure.
Pred 2 letoma