Green Acres Permaculture Village is a small, retrofit, intergenerational intentional community in Bloomington, Indiana that integrates self-knowledge and expression with a shared culture among humans and the living Earth to encourage abundance on every level.

About GAPV

Green Acres Permaculture Village is a small, retrofit intergenerational intentional community carved from within an existing suburban neighborhood in a college town that offers itself as a template for transformation of suburban life. We seek to express our values from the inside out: beginning with the individual (know thyself) to the human and animal commons (communication, sharing and compassion), to our sacred communion with the living Earth, we encourage the expression of Nature’s abundance on every level: food for thought, food for people, food for planet.

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Join Our Community

Are you looking for community and interested in living more sustainably? Do you want to eat produce, wild edibles, and chicken eggs from right outside your door? Do you want a home with close-knit, supportive friends? Do you long for an environment that fosters your creativity and individuality?

Green Acres is looking for a new resident with an interest in permaculture and helping us to build a more self-sustaining ecovillage. While Green Acres has been established for several years, we are rounding the corner into a more intentional community.

Email us at greenacrespermaculture@gmail.com or talk to us at our community dinners!

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Community Dinners

Join us at Green Acres every Thursday evening at 7pm for dinner with friends and neighbors. The dinners are not potlucks, but giftings. However, you are welcome to bring food, drink or a donation, if that works for you. In any case, not necessary! Or maybe your guitar or banjo? In any case, come.

Plus, we have now introduced "offerings" after dinner on occasion. So far, these have included a Feldenkrais class, a talk about the astrology of Donald Trump and the U.S.A., a knife sharpening skills, and salsa dancing lessons.

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News 8/7/22: Last Thursday Dinner — Inside AGAIN!

See last Sunday’s post.

We seem to be getting more leary of quickly forming and moving thunderstorms interrupting our weekly Community Dinners  outside on back patio. This time, Annie, Marita, and Adrian, hosts of this week’s dinner, opted to do it inside at 2615 E. DeKist, just in case it rained . . . 

But of course, it didn’t.

Oh well. Once again, as with last week’s dinner, the energy was good, solid, the frequency high. A quickly forming and dissolving good time had by all. As usual, about two hours from start to finish, leaving us all energized, ready to face and even embrace, the coming week.

And of course, with both a “circle up” hand holding and offering beforehand, and wonderful food and drink.

We sat in three groups. Here we are, just getting started. 

BTW: Community Dinner regular (and former resident) Dan, on his way here, was interrupted by a phone call from a woman telling him that a good friend of his on a motorcycle had collided with someone in a car. No injuries, but he sure needed Dan’s company to help him calm down. However, when Dan arrived, the family of the also uninjured person in the car he had run into was comforting Dan’s friend! People in Bloomington can be like that. Extraordinarily kind.

On the other hand, Marita and I were returning from the First Friday of the month Art Gallery walk, when we stopped at a red light, only to observe two young white men beating up on each other with a young white woman standing by, at first silent, and then starting to plead in a soft, seemingly half-hearted voice, for them to stop. A serious, violent fight; very energetic and aggressive; aimed to kill. One of them was trying to beat the other head on the cement, when young black man rushed up and tried to pull them apart. Don’t know the outcome, because then the light turned green. 

Marita told me afterwards that the three white folks were meth heads. “Did you see her arms? Covered with needle marks.” I did not see this. But it makes sense, given the extreme, mutually aggressive energy. Really alarming. 

What is this world coming to?

Whatever happens next, let us focus from the heart on love, on community, on connection. Let us each raise our own personal frequency enough to be islands of safety and calm in the increasingly turbulent cultural, political, and economic maelstrom that threatens to blow the entire world to smithereens. 

July 31, 2022: Community dinner RUPTURES! — and regroups

Our weekly Community Dinner, planned as usual for outside on the back patio, ruptured early on. As the three houses rotate dinner duties, at 6:00 pm new resident and housemate Adam and I met to clean up the patio. We swept the floor, spread out the table cloths, brought out the silverware, plates, and cups, napkins, water, etc. Joseph from next door came out to light all the tiki sticks (mosquitos love mid-summer); friends and neighbors started to trickle in . . . then more and more, each one bearing food or drink! Final count was 25, though, as usual, they didn’t all arrive on time. We were about ready to “circle up” before eating when, oh no . . . a rain drop! Then another and another. Several of us had checked the weather before hand, just to make sure. Yes, thunderstorms weren’t due until late evening, plenty of time for our leisurely dinner outside. 

Now Adrian checks again with his phone. Oops! An enormous green cloud rapidly approaching Bloomington on the radar.  

Instantly, we shifted focus. Within three minutes we had cleared the entire area, including the tablecloths, and regrouped inside this Overhill house. Only one trip for each person needed. Talk about team spirit!

A few minutes later we regrouped again, to circle up. Amazingly enough, neighbor Mariella actually got a photo of this part of the evening, our circle winding through the living room into the kitchen.

Rather than the usual circle up, where I ask someone present to give the blessing, this time there were two items to be addressed before that. First, it was the day after Daniel’s birthday, so we all sang him what has become our song, for birthdays and other special occasions. (I first heard this heartfelt song at one of the Crones Counsels, years ago.)

How could anyone ever tell you

You are anything less than beautiful.

How could anyone ever tell you

You are less than whole?

How could anyone fail to mention

That your loving is a miracle,

How deeply you’re connected to my (our) soul.

Next, what I had already communicated to the group with the emailed invite, that this regularly scheduled Thursday Dinner happened to fall on the same day as the July New Moon, July 28. As an astrologer, I wrote about that here, and talked a bit about its strong, expressive energies as we stood holding hands. Plus, Joseph had arranged a beautiful altar in honor of this New Moon in Leo.

And finally, the blessing, which Mariella offered, beginning with a pregnant silence, in honor of the New Moon. An unusually beautiful blessing, it just poured out of her.

Here she is later, with Dan.

Here’s feisty Muriel, mother of neighbor Devin, currently visiting Bloomington.

Lots of us spilled into all three public rooms in this house.

Former housemate Ethyl grabbed both me and my ipad at one point, pointing it at us . . .

The entire evening, though somewhat raucous — as an astrologer, I had said “it’s time for full-on Leo personal expression, time to be who you really are!”— and boy did the energy pump. Lots of love, lots of laughter. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

July 24, 2022: Mid-Summer Transformations!

Life in our tiny urban paradise mid-summer revolves around the gardens, with not just kale and chard, two kinds of basil, mustard greens, beans, cabbage, summer squash, corn, and tomatoes and more — all ripe or ripening for harvest. And of course, onions and garlic! The arugula and lettuces are done, supplying salads for weeks. We’re trying to grow beets and carrots now. Plus winter squash. And we’re finally getting serious about saving seeds, setting up a table, little envelopes, and a filing system.

I’ve been making pesto with the burgeoning basil for several weeks, adding turmeric root.

A few days ago, I decided to freeze more kale, and picked three different varieties. Left to right: curly kale, siberian kale, and lacinato. Siberian kale is hardy enough to last through the winter. Much of what we’re harvesting this year is from last year’s crop.

 Dan (The Dan who lived here for five years) took three more cabbages for his famous sauerkraut, of which he’ll give us another jar or two. 

Even the purple cabbages are starting to show heads. So beautiful! Like a mandala.

The bush bean harvest is overwhelming. Harvesting morning and evening. Sharing them with neighbors, along with kale and chard.

But the corn. The corn! Our first harvest. Daniel, puppy Shadow, and me, admiring. Notice the ear he’s holding is yellow . . . I think it was the only one! More on this coming right up . . .

We decided to cook the corn for last Thursday’s Community Dinner. Notice, the seemingly white shirt next to Dan, next to a plate with strange purple leavings . . .

Well, it turns out that the other ears were thin, mottled purple and yellow . . . but the taste! Wonderfully sweet even before cooking.

Eating the corn, the purple stained our hands . . .

Eva, me, and “the two aunties,” Eva’s Mom and Aunt, Sophia and Wanda, were all sitting around a table. Wondering. Hmmm! Can the purple be used as a dye? Hmmm . . . Eva: “Ann, go get a white teeshirt that we could experiment on!” I bring out a teeshirt that I got somewhere in Asia, and have not worn since. Have no idea what the writing on it conveys.

We went to town, rolling the cobs over and over the shirt, having great, and silly fun.

 

Meanwhile, two men, Jeff and Adam, were sitting, deep in conversation, at the most shaded table. Off somewhere else, Joseph was showing somebody how to wield the large wand he dances with on the patio. For many of us, all of a sudden, it seemed as if the evening had segued into some kind of party that involved working with, and talking about, materials or some kind . . .

I asked Dan if he would take a few pics of us rolling the cobs over the shirt, front and back, including the sleeves. Meanwhile, Eva and The Aunties were deep in conversation as to how to make sure the dye held. Two methods were deemed best: one, throw it in a very hot dryer for 20 minutes; two: boil it with 1/2 vinegar and 1/2 water. Still haven’t decided which method to use. Here’s the shirt. I sense I’m supposed to wear it at next week’s Community Dinner . . .

Two more items, one sad, one happy. The sad one, a burial place, covered with rocks so as not to get dug up, in one of our wild gardens: for the oldest chicken who finally got eaten, we think by a raccoon. Out of the original eight, we now have three left. Should we get more chickens? Ongoing debate.

And the happy item? Our beautiful little wildflower garden, planted into the hugelkulture constructed over the dangerous, yawning hole six feet? eight feet? deep. Two years ago, that hole had opened to the remains of an old septic system . . .

Transformation is the name of the game!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rain here, Drought elsewhere — and Community Dinner

On this rainy Sunday morning . . .

I reflect on the news I heard last night, from Dane Wigington, speaking with Greg Hunter, that 40 million people are about to be severely affected by longstanding drought conditions. 

Climate engineering researcher Dane Wigington says the extreme drought conditions in the U.S. are caused by man-made weather modification called geoengineering.  It’s not some naturally occurring event, but an “engineered drought catastrophe.”  Wigington says after decades of climate engineering, things are getting so bad that millions in the Southwestern United States will be without water sometime in 2023.  Wigington explains, “The mainstream media and official sources are doing their best to sweep it under the rug.  We are talking about 40 million people that will be impacted by the drying out of the Colorado River basin and tributaries.”

Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Tucson and Las Vegas are the few of the cities that are already struggling with severe water conservation restrictions.  Wigington says, “Drought caused by man-made weather modification is not coming, it’s here now and will only get worse from here on out. . . . There is no speculation, no hypothesis or conjecture in any of this.  Climate engineering is the primary cause for the protracted drought, and not just in the U.S. but in many other parts of the world.  It also causes a deluge scenario, and all of it is crushing crops.  We can speculate to the motives and agendas behind those who run these operations, but the fact that climate engineering is the primary causal factor for the western drought is inarguable.”

According to Wigington, the entire western half of the U.S. is affected by drought, in high contrast to the eastern half, which by and large is getting enough moisture and is largely asleep to conditions in the west, given that the MSM has yet to pick up on this developing disaster. What this means for likely drying up of food production as well as western refuge flows to the east is ominous. 

Even here, whenever rain does not come and we must water our gardens with city water, the water bills, like everything else, have gone up, to $85 in June for each of our three homes.

So we don’t mind rain, not at all. 

We are glad, however, when rain doesn’t interrupt our weekly Community Dinners. Two Thursdays ago, it did, and we retreated to the Overhill house for our weekly dinner. This past Thursday however, saw perfect conditions on the patio.

Here we are, gathering . . .

These flowers (what are they? not black-eyed susans, because eyes not black!) lean towards us, welcoming.

Two tables filled, one to go. 

What’s left of Annie’s delicious meatballs and sauce.

The usual good time with friends and neighbors!

Grateful.

July 10, 2022: We Enjoy, and Share the Surplus of, Nature’s Gifts in Summer

Mid-summer. Life is very busy. I’m out in the gardens most days for an hour or two, working either alone or with others. Plus, yesterday, we borrowed neighbor Dave’s truck and transported two giant loads of the “debris” that either falls, is cut, or pulled up around here to Good Earth, a large, well-run local composting operation that has been in business since 1977. 

As we were filling the truck bed for the first time, neighbor Lois stopped by, asked if we could take the pile next to her driveway. Yes, with the second load. In return, she handed us $20, which we could use to help fill Dave’s truck with gas. 

People to people. Connectivity: inside the household, inside our tiny three-home village, inside the neighborhood — and beyond. 

On our way to Good Earth, we passed May’s Greenhouse, which has been in business even longer, since 1965.

Here and there, in the midst of growing corporate conglomeratization of what used to be locally owned and operated businesses, some do still exist, on back roads.

I can remember when we tried to get a “buy local” movement going here. That was probably 15 years ago. We decided that the public wasn’t yet ready. That they wouldn’t grok the idea that money can circulate locally, rather than draining out to large corporations. Fifteen years is a long time. Much has transpired to prepare the public, not the least of which is the growing need for locally grown food. 

Our gardens are so prolific that we also feed neighbors and people served by Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard.

All across this country, local businesses and nonprofits serve local people. Though those who ran the covid plandemic tried to shut small businesses down, it didn’t work. Many are still going. Many more are springing up. 

State-run organizations also help local businesses. Such as the Indiana Small Business Development Center.

As the federal government continues to falter, the need for downsizing it grows. States and localities pick up the slack.

And ultimately, it all comes down to each one of us. We are all sovereign beings, here to express our own unique natures fully into the world. How? Begin small. Begin with what’s lodged in your heart. What would you be doing if there were no obstacles in your way? The universe bends to support those with clear, focused intent. 

Even better: Learn how to think and operate, as much as possible, “below money.” In other words, let us learn from how Nature does it, with each species gifting to others of its surplus and receiving what it needs in return. This is called “the gift economy.”

Here are a few photos I took this morning.

Chicory loves to grow in the cracks, and its bright blue flowers, to me, even more beautiful than those of the robin’s egg.

 

We’re about to be inundated with bush beans.

 

I planted these winter squash seeds about ten days ago, and now must wait three months for maturity.

 

We got corn! Though the intent, to grow the three sisters — corn with beans and squash — did not work out.

 

A wildflower garden grows atop a hugelkulture bed we constructed this year to cover up a large hole that had caved in (old septic system). Best way to make sure nobody falls into the hole!

 

More flowers, purple cabbages beyond.

 

The green cabbages continue to expand . . . and see post from July 5, “Cabbage Bonanza!”.

 

More . . .

 

Zucchinis on the way.

 

Right now and for past few weeks, and on and on, even into next year — huge surplus of kale. I’ve been freezing some and Marita takes some to Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard.

 

Varieties of kale . . .

Finally, you might be moved to read this book: SACRED ECONOMICS: Money, Gift, and Society in an Age of Transition (2011), by Charles Eisenstein. ‘Cuz we’re there. The transition has arrived. There’s no going back. And the future will be created from grounding the visions of what the majority of humans fearlessly, and relentlessly, dare to intend.