It’s mid-June, time to start gathering herbs to dry. I started with mint. This is a picture of mint packed into a paper bag that gets stapled shut and labeled for a time next spring when I will smooosh up mint leaves into tea. It’s good for the tummy and fantastic on lamb. I have other tricks up my cap sleeve.

I’ve been struggling with structures that no longer serve me or maybe never served me or maybe carded me and decided it was a fake ID. In Shit You Can’t Make Up, rats spread out across the tiny town when the grocery store closed. Some rats came to stay under our chicken coop, which began to list to starboard when rat tunnels collapsed. That meant the whole chicken enclosure began to lean, to crack and to separate. To describe this scenario as ramshackle was to sing its praises. It turns out that chicken coops attract rats as surely as the sun sets in the west, or in this case over New Brunswick. Pete was mad. The neighbors had their eyes on other catastrophes. Andie and I asked everyone we could think of if they knew a place where two elderly Swedish Black chickens could live out their golden years, but nobody did. Things went on in this desperate manner for some time. Last Thursday, I asked the right person if he wanted two chickens and he asked, “Do you have a box?”

Next thing we knew, we were loading a large cage filled with two small chickens, a water bowl, organic layer pellets and dried grubs into a strangely dirty Tesla and I explained the chickens had originally been three, and I named them for the Andrews Sisters. This guy did not know who the Andrews Sisters were, and seemed hazy on Abbott & Costello as well. Someone neglected his comedy education, alas! Since then, we have been dismantling the crumbling backyard structure. Fortunately, it’s also been the hottest week of the year so far, and that’s a big head start if you’re anxious to field test some heat stroke.

You would not believe how much crap built up around the base of the enclosure as we tried to protect the chickens from raccoons, foxes, hawks, rats and neighborhood cats. Yesterday and this morning, I pulled bricks, pavers and large rocks out of the ground and piled them where neighbors could be angered by their presence. I rolled and tied chicken wire and filthy 2″x 4″s. I’m the picture of industry. Also: nothing feels better than a shower after pulling mud-caked plastic wire out of what can only be chickenshit and compost. Cheers!

This spring, I took a fantastic course on the Etruscans at the unnamed university, and I thoroughly enjoyed the gorgeous, individual objects by which we learned about individuals and an entire culture. Knowing Etruria was swallowed by Rome, one goes into the course knowing that at the thousand year mark, the people one has come to understand will disappear. It is a setup for heartbreak. The structure can sustain itself for only so long, after which it fails catastrophically. Maybe the people know, maybe they don’t. Maybe the people would have worked harder to stave off disaster if they truly understood what awaited them.

To you, I say: are you registered to vote?