Native American seen planting spring crops!
by Richard L. Thornton, Architect and City Planner
The entire world is facing a food shortage crisis.
Well, now that got your attention! . . . the photo is actually from a bedroom window, but being Eastern Creek, I am part Maya, Uchee and Zoque. I have NO North American Indian DNA markers . . . so there is some truth to the headline above.
You will not be seeing as many articles in The Americas Revealed this spring, because I am frantically trying to increase the capacity of growing vegetables, fruits and tuber crops on my mountain crest property. I am building more terraces for biochar agriculture. I also have a prefabricated greenhouse on the way from Amazon.com. It’s got to be assembled, though.
Seriously, we all are aware of how food prices have skyrocketed because of the Covid Pandemic. You have not seen anything yet. Ukraine, the Breadbasket of Europe, is being destroyed by Russian stormtroopers. However, there is something else even more ominous. Petroleum is the raw ingredient of ammonia, which is manufactured in vast quantities around the world. As the price of petroleum continues to climb into ionosphere, so do the prices of fertilizers.
Farmers in warmer climes are already finding it impossible to afford fertilizer. This will affect the quantity of food they are able to produce . . . causing a boomerang effect as countries around the world compete for what food products are available. Even pasture fed livestock will be affected. When I was a professional farmer in Virginia, we always spread lime and fertilizer on our pastures in the early spring.
The vicious cold wave that hit the Southeast this weekend, killed many of the seedling plants for sale by Bonnie’s Plants this weekend. Bonnie’s Plants now has a monopoly in the Southeast for potted vegetable seedlings. They were left out on display racks in front of farm stores, Home Depot’s, Walmarts and supermarkets, so Bonnie’s Plants can service them at any time, but that meant they had no protection from high winds and temps in the teens.
One last warning . . . you better get going on having a large garden this year. If not, you will be very sorry . . . and possibly . . . hungry.
My how life goes in circles
If you have read my online book, The Shenandoah Chronicles, you may recall that January, February and March of 1992 was a hellacious time for me. The Shenandoah County Commonwealth’s Attorney (District Attorney) and crooked administrators of the Shenandoah County, VA Sheriff’s Department partnered with their buddies in organized crime. There were two serious attempts on my life, plus I had to be in court three times for frivolous civil cases and one bogus traffic charge. I won all four cases, pro se. I was also having to attend secret hearings and depositions, run by the US Justice Department Task Force on Local and State Government Corruption above a cafe in Georgetown. My cheating, treasonous wife was delighted have me gone most of time. It was like living in a John Gresham novel. I will end the essay with a funny story from that experience.
Did I mention that the US Justice Department investigation was concerning an organized crime cartel being jointly run by “law enforcement officers” and organized crime in southern Florida, northern Georgia and northern Virginia? The profits from this massive operation were in the billions of dollars range and were being used to fund businessmen and politicians, who wanted convert the United States into a feudal, one-political-party society.
The same type things have been going this winter . . . 30 years later. Just two aspects of the on-going saga will be mentioned here. Last September, as I was ending a two hour radio show interview via telephone in my house, someone entered my house’s rear door with a key. The only thing that stopped what could have been something much more serious was that a piece of gravel jammed the door then my dogs heard the intruder beating on the door. All of this was heard over the nation, because it was a live broadcast.
The prowler has made several other attempts to break in at night, while I was here. He is is slim, Caucasian male, driving a black sports car with dark, tinted windows. However, the house is better protected now. I assumed that he was some Mafia wise guy, because I have seen that vehicle on occasions parked at two households in the community that are involved with organized crime.
Well . . . on January 13th, my Explorer suddenly wouldn’t go backwards. It is a fairly minor transmission repair, if you don’t drive the car any further. However, the repair shop owner promptly backed the car up a steep hill – destroying my transmission. I had to replace it, but the shop would not let me pick it up until February 13th. On the way, home I noticed that the gas tank was empty and the car had been driven 234 miles, while at the repair shop. They damaged the engine in the process, so will have to go to another shop to get it repaired.
At around 6 AM on Sunday morning, March 13th, the new motion detector lights flipped on when someone used a key to unlock my car. The dogs immediately started barking so the prowler soon ran off. Then twice Sunday morning, the black sports car drove slowly past my house and turned around. A neighbor got a close view of it with their security cameras. They then informed me that the sports car actually belonged to the Habersham County Sheriff’s Dept. and was used by their narcotics detectives. We eventually figured out after hearing rumors from other neighbors that the intruder planned to place illegal drugs in the car so I could be busted and my car impounded later on Sunday. Yesterday morning, I also discovered that my Ford owners manual, containing the key code had been stolen, while the car was at the shop. A biochar farmer jest can’t get no respect these here days!
And now some humor
Vivi the French Courtesan and her seven year old daughter flew over from Paris in February 1992, to give me moral support (and other things). She stayed at the home in Alexandria, VA of our mutual friends, the real X-Files couple (yes, really). She would sip coffee and read European newspapers downstairs at the cafe, while I was at the hearings. We would go to dinner afterward. Vivi usually wore the wedding ring from her former marriage, when we went out together, so other men wouldn’t harass her. Before she wore the ring, men would just come up to a restaurant table and ask her for a date, right in front of me.
Back then, I was not ugly like now. A pretty, blond 25-year-old court reporter with the US Justice Department frequently made eyes with me and would flirt with me during breaks. Frustrated with my lack of response, the lassie finally got the courage up to invite me to her apartment that evening, where she would prepare a gourmet Italian dinner.
The attorney supervising these hearings . . . a senior law professor at American University . . . overheard her proposition. He patted her on the back and said, “Honey, you are wasting your time. Richard is not that type of guy. He is faithful to his pretty French wife. Why, she is right now downstairs in the cafe, waiting for him. How many men have a wife, who will sit at a cafe for hours, just so she can go out to dine with their husband afterward?
Vivi has been in a live-in relationship now for 21 years, but told me that she still considers me to be her soulmate for eternity . . . whatever than means.