CiderMaker

God morgen NOSTR. Dawn is here. The beginning is near.

The economy is on a rock solid foundation. The economy:

Spring is here. Meet first time mom Number 22 and here lamb Cappuccino. 30 minutes old. Love is universal.

that's what GROK said: The Quiet Ledger February 22, 2025 The wind howled over the dunes as Amina powered up her solar rig, a battered laptop humming to life. She checked the Bitcoin node—still syncing, 12 hours behind. No rush. In this world, haste was a relic, like the crumbling highways or the fiat notes fluttering in the sand. She’d just traded 30,000 sats for a crate of dried figs from a Tunisian sailor. Tomorrow, those figs would buy her a new sail. Global trade ticked on, slow and steady, tied together by a ledger that didn’t need kings or cannons to hold. War had changed. Nation-states, once bloated with oil and arrogance, shrank as energy dwindled. Tanks rusted; drones fell silent without lithium to spare. The old wars of conquest—too expensive, too loud—gave way to skirmishes over scraps: a river dam, a windmill. But Bitcoin shifted the game. No central bank to fund armies, no currency to debase for war chests. A village in Ukraine swapped sats for grain with a cooperative in Brazil; no government could choke the flow. Peace wasn’t noble—it was practical. Fighting burned energy nobody had. Nation-states didn’t vanish—they morphed. Capitals still barked orders, but their reach was short. Taxes in fiat? Good luck collecting when people hoarded sats or bartered goats. Power slid to the edges: towns with solar grids, hamlets with hand-pumped wells. Amina’s outpost ran on a council of five, chosen by whoever showed up with a shovel or a skill. Local governments thrived, small and scrappy, trading with neighbors in sats when the harvest allowed. The world wasn’t one—it was thousands, loosely stitched by a blockchain humming on wasted sunlight. She scrolled Nostr, the chatter flickering across her screen. A tinkerer in Japan pitched a business: repairable tools, paid in sats, shipped by sail. Another post—someone in Ghana teaching kids to rig microgrids, bartering lessons for fish. Amina grinned. Opportunity wasn’t dead; it just wore simpler clothes. Back in 2025, she’d seen it coming. She’d learned to mend sails, grow lentils, run a node off a car battery. Skills beat degrees now. Her neighbor, old Jamal, started a still—whiskey for the cold nights, two sats a bottle. Down the coast, a widow wove nets, trading for medicine from a drone pilot in Morocco. The future wasn’t utopia. Storms still sank boats; feuds flared over the last scraps of copper. But war’s roar had dulled to a grumble, peace held by necessity, and the nation-state was a ghost barking at shadows. Local life pulsed—messy, resilient, real. Amina shut her laptop, the node still chugging. She’d post this tale tomorrow, when the sun gave her juice. For now, she watched the stars, sats in her wallet, figs in her hold, and a quiet world turning on its own terms. Start now, friends: fix things, grow things, learn the grid. Bitcoin’s the thread—skills are the cloth.

The dog did not feel like cave exploring... the kids loved it. #dogstr #caves #bornholm

nostr will never work

Merry Christmas too all. Even to the Danish government who decided to think twice about confiscating it's citizens property/bitcoin. Show me your tree if you have one.

bone broth #foodstr #brothstr #sheepstr https://m.primal.net/NCYR.mp4

This episode with nostr:npub1cxw2u3wuleask4ransck6dzxlf59m82ajtdqky8lpppn49p70lnqqznt7u is absolutely beautiful. Not going to lie. It almost made me cry. Give it a spin, and send some love to nostr:npub1cxw2u3wuleask4ransck6dzxlf59m82ajtdqky8lpppn49p70lnqqznt7u and nostr:npub1mrmu3s5889zcaqcqwxejx8gtkp9rwna7fq0vqezk4x22rnpr2gmsmfeyr9. Keep up the work. https://fountain.fm/episode/v0qDpi5LCZtJG0yr9JQz

Practicing my butchering skills this winter. Finished three lambs yesterday. Now there is food for the family. Today I'm making bonebroth. "The difference between a good kitchen and a great kitchen is the broth"

Canoeing with old friends. Spending the night under open sky

Our new pet. Nature is cruel. https://m.primal.net/KfkS.mp4

Loves the sunsets this time of the year. First time I have seen the local apex predator. 50 kg of waving and growling carnivore. #sunset #bornholm #grownostr https://m.primal.net/KUDn.mp4

Beautiful morning for walking the dog. The more you walk; the better you feel. #grownostr #dogstr #walkstr (notice the steaming pile of cow manure. Proof of life)

Bring in the bionic lawnmower. https://video.nostr.build/4df1391b822b76d2fb701d776eff7f45dc2c2bee79d3b3f808c908ac24ac0bc1.mp4 #sheep #farmhouse

Deconstructed wind turbines on the Harbour. Wings are >80 meters. Totally carbon neutral 😐 amazing

I present for you the LENOCRACY, the government of pimps. "It remains a safe bet, however, that if a situation is unsustainable, sooner or later it won’t be sustained. A nation that can’t manufacture an adequate supply of cannon shells to defend its interests, because too many people are too busy extracting unearned wealth from the procurement process, is a nation that’s either going to shake off its parasites or go under. While we’re waiting to see what happens next, planting that backyard garden or doing other things that don’t depend on lenocracy is probably a good idea—and if, dear reader, you make your living providing some service that nobody would pay for if the system didn’t require it, you might want to find some other way to make a living before the bottom drops out of that market." Give it a read. Bitcoin fixes this. #lenocracy https://www.ecosophia.net/beyond-lenocracy/

My first dog, Obi. Already 5 months old today. #dogstr #grownostr

1h and 20m old lamb and it's mothersheep. 9 lambs and counting. Still 4 pregnant mothersheeps to deliver.

Another pair of twins was born. These are about 60 minutes old at this image. The mother-sheep is taking care of the placenta. #sheep #newborn #growlife