away some books and an eReader so go to our Facebook page and tell us your stupid criminal story.

On with the blog.

Whew! What a campaign. I bet you’re glad that’s over. We’ve avoided the path paved with austerity and fiscal sacrifice. No longer is there a chance that the U.S. of A. will become the Greece of the Western Hemisphere. It’ll probably be more like Italy or Spain, but instead of drowning our debt-saddled sorrows in endless bottles of viño tinto or grappa, our deficit-distressed souls will be soothed, as is our wont, in fat laden strips of that wonderful, starchy tuber: the potato.

And it is there I’ll leave my endless bitching and moaning about the end of the world as we know it. The election is behind us. The future has been envisioned. It’s time to step out of our shining city on a hill and get something to eat. But just remember, every step of the way, somebody will be watching.

This paranoia started a couple of weeks ago when I was researching some medical issues and all of a sudden I started seeing ads related to the condition I was researching along with tiny paragraphs beckoning me to click here and find out about even worse diseases. “Hmmmm…” I said as I often do. “This could be fun.” So I added that little strip of Google ads just over there to see what would come up as I did my research projects, watched Google’s Adsense try to figure out My Nonsense, and attempt to sell me something in the process. 

It didn’t work, but as Google figured that out, the ads for medical relief disappeared and now, when I checked just moments ago, I am being offered tax services and opportunities to go volunteering with the elephants in Thailand.

Sound familiar?

I pick on Google because they are the most pervasive presence in the Let’s Go See What Everybody’s Doing industry, but they are hardly alone. I recently checked my Amazon recommended products page and found some things that Amazon thought I should buy because I bought something almost exactly not like that nearly ten years ago. They figured I needed some more by now.

Where I’m most worried about this endless auto-surveillance, is from Google Earth, Maps, and Street View. I’m sure by now most of you have looked at your place with one of these products. Pretty neat, huh? For those who haven’t, Earth and Maps give you a birds-eye view of the entire planet and its Street View program – the one that got Google in trouble in Germany, of all places – allows you to pretend to be on almost any street on the planet. The near future takes Street View closer in – by offering pictures of building interiors – and further out, with Google Trekker to open up the off-road experience. Soon you’ll be able to visit every square centimeter of the planet from the comfort and homey ambiance that is your living room. Safely insulated from things like cold and damp, you’ll be able to go on vacation and not miss a single episode of your favorite reality TV program.

I’m convinced that when physicists finally uncover the workings of the universe they will find that well over 99.99% of everything is composed of irony. Fe-cal material if you will.

As Google Sightseeing asks “Why bother seeing the world for real?” 

But I’m down with all this and I think that Google’s billion dollar efforts will benefit me greatly. I mean if everybody’s sitting at home, watching TV, buying shit from Amazon, twiddling with their iStuff, and breathing the same air over and over, that just means they’ll be fewer of them outside getting in my way. The roads will be less gridlocked, the buses will run better, shops – those few that remain – will be uncrowded.

Really, what more could anyone ask?

Luckily, the micro-farm has escaped many of these technological depredations, Google Street View has so far avoided the ‘hood, mostly because when you’re on the street it’s impossible to see what’s on the other side of the trees. Even so, Google’s prying eyes are staring down with their unblinking gaze from outer space and they don’t miss a trick. Google has even taken this to the next level: LIVE satellite views of the earth. You’ll soon be able to look into your neighbor’s backyard in real time.

Cool!

As you remember, this time last year we embarked on the mission to design the landscaping at the micro-farm. What I didn’t tell you was: our design, from the very beginning, was planned to be best appreciated from outer space.

Here’s where we started. The view is sometime in mid-to-late summer 2011. The meadow is overgrown, the grass is dead. There is no garden or orchard or bees. It is the blank canvas from which we started. The main items of interest in this view are the paths the wily deer would later use in their nighttime predations of the garden.

And then it got “cloudy” so Google didn’t update the image for nearly a year.

Then Presto! Here is the micro-farm in all its glory. There are the beehives. And the bee-spa. The greenhouse. The stripes and the racetrack. The “logo” is visible, if you know what to look for. The compost factory is easily discerned but when this was taken the chickens were still living in the carport so they’re not seen. But look! There’s the orchard and the electric fence.

The electric fence?

Which was my first reaction as well.

Sure ain’t technology grand and all, but that fence is made from half-inch poly-rope. Even if the satellite snapped the shot at the exactly perfect angle so that all five strands lined up side-by-side, it would still only add up to an apparent width of two and a half inches.

Clearly visible. From outer space. For free.

Imagine what the high-res image looks like.

Most of us have long subscribed to the belief that the cameras in the spy satellites were so good that you could read a license plate from orbit. But those were spies backed with billions of dollars all targeting the Red Menace. It was national security. The fate of the free world was at stake.

But this is Google, a private company, although a very rich private company, with the sole goal of letting you figure out which building is Starbucks and which is the bowling alley; on your smartphone. But at the micro-farm they can pick out a half-inch thick piece of rope from a hundred miles away.

I am concerned.

Despite my Luddititious misgivings, being able to see the results of one’s hard work and effort as if by magic, does have some appeal; especially since I planned it that way. But the whole now-you-see-it-no-you-don’t delay between the images gives the impression that the micro-farm sprung from the earth fully-formed, like Athena from Zeus’ brow. This, as you know, was definitely not the case, but, when viewed through the mists of time, is somewhat believable.

We humans have the unique ability to forget how bad things really were, once they are over. The hard work, injuries, roto-tilling in the rain, and watching an entire row of peas vanish down a gopher hole; seem to lose their sharp sting as the days pass. This is why we continue to do things even after those things have kicked the living shit out of us on multiple occasions.

And so it is at harvest time.

I can tell you that going out to the garden and two hours later sitting down to a dinner of home-grown squash soup is a marvelous thing. Carrot muffins, when you’ve planted the carrots and stolen the eggs, are the best. Fresh salads, apple crisp, pumpkin pie, and more are so much better when the ingredients are straight from the garden or coop. (I imagine it will be the same for honey, but not until next year.) But honestly, the absolutely best, crème de la crème, over-the-top delightful product of our garden is that grease-sodden, quintessentially-American addiction: French fries.

I don’t quite know why but, harvesting potatoes is like finding money. In the spring you just stuff some potatoes in the ground. They grow into these very pretty little bushes with white flowers and, as they grow, you pile up dirt, compost or straw around the plants. Then the plants die, and being only slightly woodier than lettuce, shrivel up and vanish. You’re left with nothing but some piles of dirt.

Now, potatoes are something that will keep basically forever if left in the ground. No storage necessary. So by the time we’re ready for some pommes frites, I didn’t have a clue where the potato plants used to be. I start digging. And, as if by magic, where there was once nothing but dirt, there are now pounds of spuds. Two shovels full and enough potatoes tumble off the blade to feed a family of four for a fortnight.

Memories of hard work, injuries, rain, and gophers all drowned out by the sound of bubbling fat. I just ladle on the salt and ketchup, and eat my fill of the tasty taters. Because it’s now November, the harvest is in, and that means only one thing.

It’s time to start the whole process over again.