Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   compost transfer, 2023
Monday, April 10 2023
First thing this morning, I took 150 milligrams of pseudoephedrine in hopes of it helping me power through some tricky geomapping Javascript. It helped somewhat, but all I really want to do when I'm working on something so open-ended and dense is to read articles about how Republicans have managed to completely fuck themselves over the issue of abortion.

It was another nice springlike day, and I took advantage of it by burying all of the accumulated compost (that would be about a year of it) in the various garden beds. This is something I do every year, and it's never a concern that the compost isn't fully composted. I will happily bury fresh plant material under the garden, confident that it will provide nutrients that growing plants appreciate as it decomposes. I will also bury fresh dog shit. The garden is where all the dog shit goes, and at this time of year I always bury it. But throughout the winter, I'd been throwing it into the second raised bed from the east. Today, though, as part of burying all the compost, I also did what I could to till the soil in that bed in hopes of getting most of the dog shit (most of which is dry and even somewhat sun-bleached) beneath the surface. (You don't want bits of dog shit splashing on your leafy vegetables, which I probably won't be planting in that planter at all.)
It's hard to work with the compost in our compost bins when it's time to empty it out. The bins are barrel-shaped with the only access being a 14-inch-wide circular hatch on the side. This makes it impossible to easily dump them out. Instead, I have to use a shovel to remove nearly everything. Often there's also a nasty soup of brownish liquid filled with thousands of dead maggots. I'm sure the plants will be delighted to send their roots through that material, but a single drop of that foul fluid will leave a stink that is impossible to wash away. This was one of the reasons I ended the day with a nice hot bath.

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