Blog Action Day: Seeds of Poverty, Seeds of Change.

When I was in my thirties, I lived in a school bus for five years. I guess we were poor, but we were pretty happy. We lived in the back yards of various relatives and friends, or in the campgrounds, when I finally got production work, of the various shows we worked at.

Every spring, we camped at the foot of Cajon Pass, in Southern California, where we were on the live-in crew of the Renaissance Pleasure Faire. We would pull in our trailers at the tail end of the rainy season in early March, and stay through till the heat of summer baked us in July. We would see the short southern spring arise in the hills and mountains, and watch it fade all too swiftly into the brown of summer.

Our plumbing was primitive—outdoor bathrooms and showers—but we had a sink inside the bus, which we could hook a hose up to, and we collected the dishwater in a bucket under the sink, which made life easier in the 'kitchen' in the rain. When the bucket got full, we would take it outside to water the trees with.

Imagine our surprise when, one day when we were watering the trees, we saw some of the vegetable seeds from our dishwater had sprouted and taken root. My partner at the time, being an enterprising man who knew what a nascent tomato looked like, quickly potted them in some clay pots. We watered them, and they flourished in the little pots, and gave us 'free' tomatoes and peppers and eggplants. We took the pots with us when we broke camp, some salad and herbs had joined them by then. They lived on top of the fridge, under the little skylight, when we traveled, and we put them into a little garden plot when we got back to base camp.

This was the start of our fortune, taking care of the plants; each year we had more pots, and then a garden plot, and then, finally, 40 acres to farm. It also began a love affair with gardening that continues to this day.

I still have the bus, it's in our own garden now; it's a relic, but it stands as a tribute to hard work, holding strong, and the power of tiny seeds. I'm convinced that those first little seeds, the end result of some farmers labor, were the gift that got our farm started. The miracle back then was getting open pollinated seeds from the market, it's a little harder now.

Our unstable weather is pushing more people into poverty every day. I've been poor, and I remember the hope that came from those first sprouting seeds. So, if you've lost everything, or are poor, and have a bit of earth (or a couple of pots) find some seed, plant it, and watch your life grow. If you are broke, and in need, send me a self addressed stamped envelope, to 'seeds', PO Box 852, Laytonville, Ca 95454. I'll send you some open pollinated food seed, my choice, subject to stock on hand. All I ask, in return, is that you take this farmers gift, plant it, save the seeds, and then send some on to other needy folk.

Creator gave us clean air, water, good earth, and our own 'magic beans'. The giving Mother Earth brings forth abundance to those that believe, and plant their seeds, and work the work, and walk the talk.

We can feed the world.

This has been one crazy year. Seems like the whole world sped up, and I'm behind on everything, not the least posting here. The first picture is of the last of the blue sky in my neck of the woods. This was taken on the day of the summer solstice, right after the leading edge of the "dry lightening storm" hit. We haven't seen blue sky here, since then. At night, the moon is orange like a salmon, and by day, the smoke drifts by. Some days here are like the worst of LA in the sixties in a poisonous smog. Visibility is about 100'. I spend much of my time taking my son to the beach so he can breathe. The rest is spent in maintaining the garden in the face of high heat. It's my way of prayer, praying that we will have moisture in our skies again, and that the good earth will bring rain or fog to help all the firefighters on the front line. It's how I pray that I will have a garden and home again next year.

The smoke makes it so it is hard to concentrate, and the extreme heat and smoke keeps us inside. We have patchy areas of clearing, and most of the work is done in the cool of the evening, well slathered with bug bane. Oh, here's a note. If you are out in the field without bug bane, grab a chunk of mint, and chew it up. Let some leaves hang out the mouth (it's not pretty, but neither's West Nile Virus!) If you breathe in through the nose (if it's not too smokey) and out through the mouth, the mosquitos are repelled.

What I have noticed is that the microclimates we create with our garden does affect the smoke somewhat. The water running over granite rocks (our pond waterfall) helps put negative ions back into the air. The sheltering pines contribute to cleaning a bit, and the oaks are hanging in there. The madrones are in trouble, with yellowing leaves. It may be the low light, or the water table has dropped.

There are more reports of bees going under, so I want to post these pictures, just in case we lose the place (although it seems not likely now, thank God). I noticed that when I 'shoot' pictures of the bees, the range finder (sonic?) of the camera on auto jolts them a little, so they are definitely sensitive to directed sound waves. However, this spring, they were gathering pollen from the white-thorne flowers under the high speed internet antenna without it seemingly bothering them. (Granted, it was off at the time, so that's anecdotal.)



The following pictures are of things bees like to eat. I have pictures of some of the creatures (we have lots of different kinds here) and thought I would post them. I believe if we plant bee gardens, we can nurture our pollinating friends, and keep their subtle (and oh so necessary) harmony in place in our fields and orchards. Note well, we have no GMO's, and we are organic in our gardening practices. We tend towards a permaculture interface with the natural wild environment, and we heavily intercrop herbs and flowers with food. This seems to provide a stable and nourishing environment for the little bees.


Some of the herbs that bees like to eat (which I haven't caught them on film yet) are borage, milk thistle, oregano, mint. I'll try to keep up with the posting of the photos as I move through the summer, God willing. I remember posting earlier, and would like to post again, that the mint family (and the comfrey and borage) will help the bees immune system against the predatory mites.






I've probably said before that the agribusiness mono-culture may be a dying culture. We have provided an abundance of food for the world, but we have paid a high price. I think we all need to become a little more involved with our food, and contribute to bio-diversity and living small. Remember, as the bees go, so does our world. Perhaps this is why some of the old Sufis were gardeners and beekeepers. Perhaps we should emulate them.

It's been a crazy while since I posted last. The winter has been stretching on, and the spring is long and cold this year. We barely have a couple of tulips up now, where last year we had whole beds full of flowers. I'm grateful time and again for that planting clock.

The cycle repeats itself every year. I've managed to do the usual flinging of poo, and have dug and amended the beds. I'm thinking that this might be the last year that I import fertilizer. My honey finally got the chicken coop built, and we may get some of our own chicken fertilizer. The compost beds are also turning nicely, and we will finally have enough to cover the garden next year. I think that is one of the areas that industrial agriculture has rather run amok, i.e. the constant importation of chemical fertilizers. It has been my experience that even using organic fertilizers too freely can have an impact. I think that when you are building your soil, they are good to use to get it started, but I think also that it is best to move entirely to home-grown compost when you are able.

My garden has a lot of weeds of various types. I cultivate quite a few deliberately, such as nettles, dandelions, chickweed, plantain. I am an herbalist, so much of what is just plain weeds to some folks is medicine to me. Most 'weeds' are really high in bio-available minerals, which most 'civilized' foods are lacking these days. Weeds also add quite a bit to soil culture, and can tell you what type of soil you have, acid or alkaline. Did you know that dandelions send down a long tap root into the soil, which helps break it up, and leaves hollow tubes where the root used to be? The earthworms love dandelions, and the two in tandem really help nurture the earth. Makes me crazy when I think of the propaganda put out by the chemical companies...along the lines of "does your lawn suffer from the unsightly additions of common weeds? Try (insert favorite weed killer here) and watch your problems disappear." Along with the earthworms that take care of the dirt, which makes it fertile so you can have a lovely lawn. But that's OK, we'll keep charging you for fertilizer to make up for the lack. It's a real racket.

I take good care of my weeds. My husband likes to whack them down when they get too high, (something about manly men and weed-whackers). He insists that they come back hardier than ever. Mostly he's right. Me, I just like to watch the pretty flowers, and the bees that come to feed in the spring, and whenever there are blooms. Speaking of bees, we still have them. I left more brassicas going to seed this year, so we had some extra early spring blossoms from last year's plants. We are now a feeding station for the neighborhood bees at this point. Got to keep those little guys going.

Because spring is still quite chilly, most of our vegetable starts are still in the cold frame, and I must cover the lettuces and other fragile plants that were set out into the garden already most nights. I have an artichoke plant which froze down to the root-line last year. It is now coming back...it's sisters didn't make it. So, remay over the artichokes until the danger of frost is past. The peas, kale, and cabbages are quite frost hardy, and actually taste sweeter for a light frost. Anything else must be protected from freezing...still!

Got a good hot soup recipe for cold spring nights. Take some of the over-wintering beets, carrots, leeks, garlic and onions. Grab whatever greens are pushing up, including the beet greens, cabbage leaves, broccoli flowers. Add whatever edible weeds are poking their little green leaves up. In this case, we had dandelion, yarrow, plantain, and comfrey (leaf not root please!) Dice and chop the veggies into edible pieces. Put them in a big soup pot. Add water, and put on to boil. Throw in some salt, add a little dried pepper of your choice, (we had a lovely dried ancho chile) and a little thyme and tarragon. After the boil breaks, reduce and simmer about one hour. Makes a lovely deep red mineral rich soup. Top off with a little plain yogurt, and let it warm your bones.

From Snow to Go

in four days. Hurray, hurray, the sun came today!

Gung Hay Fat Choy, happy Chinese new year,

and here's to a beautiful bright silver crescent moon tonight, so welcome after the dark of the solar eclipse.

Things are lookin' up.

We pulled out from under more snowy days then I've seen in a long time. Almost makes you disbelieve in global warming...time to take stock of what has made it through the winter. Time to look through the garden, pick up old leaves and fronds and compost them, cover over plants that are pushing up through the dirt. . Check out the bulbs, they're still laying low, the crocuses haven't put their head up...I think we have some time before spring yet,there is still cold weather ahead, and time yet before planting season but oh boy, that sun sure is nice.



We've been landscaping a little, here at the farm. That's what you do when you don't have money, you move dirt. I've wanted to put a pond in for years in the back, so we're taking advantage of the soft earth to dig in the hard clay for a while. Perhaps there is a zen po-ond in my future.

We have a few trees that have died over the winter. One we lay down in the south, and gave it back to the earth, we want the forest floor to mulch that one. The others we have cut down are the ones that fell over in the last storm we had. I am very grateful that it was the trees and not my house. I was a little worried there for awhile.
I read in Discover Magazine (I think)about something called "black gold of the amazon". They said they came across patches of dirt in the forest that were still fertile cropland from more than a milenium ago. After investigating, and, I think, talking to some native tribes, they delineated a process whereby these soils were created and maintained. They say these black soils came from 'bio-char', which is made by burning a fallen tree down to charcoal, (not ash) and burying the result under the earth
so it smolders in the dirt.

I thought that might be a good thing to try with our thick clay soil. So, my heroic husband chopped down the fallen trees with his trusty ax (it's more manly, apparently, when you don't use a chain-saw.) Next he dug a trench, and started the fire in the tree logs, no mean feat. (If you live in the country, make sure it's an authorized burn day, you don't want to smoke out your neighbors.) He got a good head of charcoal going. When this started to get down to glowing embers, I mixed in some of the clay we dug out of the trench and pond, and some black dirt from last year's container pots. We got a good smolder on, and you could see the smoke come out of the dirt. I am excited about trying this process out, because we need a way to grow more crops on a smaller area, and part of the raison d'etre of this blog is to create sustainable 'slow food' that will work in anyone's back yard.

It's a tedious process, bio-char. Light the fire,(and no, you can't dump diesel on it.) My admiration for my husband grows in leaps and bounds, as he has got this fire started and burning for some time now, with just the bare minimum of kindling and a spark of flame. Build up the fire, turn the logs, fan the embers, dig the dirt. This is really an investment in the future, I keep thinking about any grandchildren while I'm doing this, cause I 'm not being paid for this work; you build soils for future generations, at least if you have your head screwed on straight you do. On second thought, I'm thinking I'm going to be paid in gold for this, golden rows of corn, and maybe some more beets and squash...


Now, I imagine if you are more suburban or even citified, you could get the same effect with a couple of bags of good mesquite or non-chemically treated charcoal, as I'm sure the local parks dept. would frown upon cutting any of their trees, or burning them, for that matter. You know, come to think of it, in California I bet you could get lots of good mesquite after all those forest fires...it would be a dusty hike though. I think that you could put charcoal even in pots and container gardens. I know that charcoal filters out impurities, so I'm kind of fascinated as to it's possibilities in the dirt. I'll keep y'all up to date with the process.

Winter Snow

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Here we are, one week into winter, and there's already snow on the ground. It's a lovely sight, virgin snowfall. We were off the mountain, picking up from the Christmas show, and got home late to snowfall that stretched from the pass out of Ukiah all the way home. Gettin' up the mountain was really fun, my truck may be a little ugly, but it gets the job done. The key to driving up mountain after a snowfall is to drive slow, steady, and whatever you do, don't stop!

We woke up to a world of white outside, and it stayed on the gound long enough to go build a snowfort to have the traditional snowball fight with my son. We walked out to the pond, which is starting to freeze over. Praise God, it is full again, and we should have enough water for the crops next year. That's a welcome New Year sign.




A light snowfall is really good for the plants and trees. One of my land partners, the ethnobotanist, says that it's like Nature's nitrogen, giving all the plants it touches a lift. It also acts like an insulator for the plants, so we know that plants covered by snow will not freeze hard. Most of our plants now are fairly frost and snow hardy. The roses seem fine, the olives are wrapped for the winter, and the chard and kale stick up however they wish.



The cabbages have a bit of frostburn from the freeze, but they are fine sitting in the snow. This is the lazy part of the year, in terms of rest in the garden. It's a little harder inside, dealing with cabin fever as well as all the organizational challenges that come from living up on the mountain. Maybe by the new year, the house will be put back together, and I'll be able to find all the paperwork for taxes and such. There's one more week til school starts again...time to catch up inside and then I'll think about seeds and garden cleanup.

If ya haven't done it now, get all the brass hardware off of the hoses and things, we're coming into the part of the year where it could suddenly freeze solid for a while, and brass hardware that's been frozen isn't worth much in the spring.




Here's a recipie for freezer surpise. Tonight, it's chicken curry ala Alwyn. Go into the freezer and pull out the meat du jour (we have chicken, any meat can be used, or this can be prepared without any meat at all for the vegans or vegetarians). Run out into the garden, and snip whatever's showing above the snow, in this case chard and kale. The broccoli seems to have reached it's limit, and will have to be restarted in the spring, luckily I have some from the store. Cut up an onion,grate some ginger, and sautee in coconut oil with a little olive oil added. Throw in a couple of those little chili peppers you grew over the summer. Then when that's simmering, put in those chicken breasts. Cover and cook for a while. When the chicken is good and mostly cooked, add the cut up greens. Cook those down into the oil, cover for a while. When the greens are mostly tender, add one can of coconut milk and some curry powder. Throw in some raisins and cut nuts, if you have any. Bring to a fast simmer, then reduce heat a little and cover. I throw some rice in the bottom of the steamer pot, and put the cut broccoli on top of it, and have that going together while the frypan simmers. When the basmati is done (about 20 minutes) and the broccoli is steamed tender, add the broccoli to the curry pot, and serve over the rice. The peppers are a nice memory of summer, and a little fire inside against the cold. Enjoy

Short Days, Long Nights

Hey!..It's cold outside!

Comin up on solstice...been rainin' for days, the skies are gray, and I have the creeping crud in my lungs, courtesy of the boy's school, I guess. Pretty much everything in the garden is in that can be harvested...the only things left are the winter hardies, like the kale and broccoli and cabbage plants, and next years onions and perennials. Still, it's best to be prepared for the sudden snap of winter, especially after the last couple of days, when everything's soaked with rain.

I've been flat on my back along with the rest of the family, so when today dawned bright and clear, I figured I'd better be up with the sun and moving. First thing I've got to do is ream out the chimney, so we don't have a house fire over the winter, and then it's on to the household tsunami of dishes and laundry. My son came down from the exes for a surprise visit, so it was drop everything and say hi, and then hurry up, get the laundry together to go to Willits, got to get back before it gets too cold.

This is life without water, and we haven't hit the hard part of winter yet, when the pipes freeze. This is just the usual winter the-well's-too-low-to-waste-good-water-on-laundry, and the local laundromat in town only has three dryers and closes early in the winter. So, hi ho, hi ho and off I go, all the way to the next town, which is about 45 minutes away one way. Forget about the carbon footprint—I need to work this weekend and I can't do that without clean clothes!

Two hours out of the short afternoon spent with the boy means I'm two hours late gettin' home, and that's two hours after the sun went down, and the sky cleared and the cold snap hit. Hubby is still down with the crud, so after peeling up the gate and drivin' the truck into the driveway and hearing that telltale, heart-wrenching crunch crunch underfoot, I race around the yard like an idiot looking for any scrap of remay, because it's only going to get colder, and the stuff I was supposed to fix before I left came back to bite me on the backside now.

The problem with plants freezing hard like this is that the leaves tend to dehydrate from the cold, and then they wilt and die when the sun hits them in the morning. It may be possible to resuscitate the kale and the hardy plants by hitting them with a stream of water right before the sun hits—a job guaranteed to all but frost-bite your fingers because you have to scrub the ice off of each little leaf. Brrr....I can hardly wait! For tonight, all I can do (and I'd better) is to bed down the little olive trees, which are only hardy to about 20, and I'll wrap the geraniums that rooted out of their pot into the tomatillo bed. We'll see what is left in the morning.

Indian Summer

Indian Summer

The sound of the bees is soporific in the late autumn sun; they are feasting on the late-blossoming tomatillos, the fat concord grapes, and the weeds, seeds and mint that are left in the garden. It's Indian Summer, the last golden days before winter, where the late afternoon sun pours down like honey and the bees are gathering their last nectar to fortify their hives for the coming cold. There is so much going wrong in the world today, with bees and with people, but at least, here, now, the bees still live and go about their business.

There has been much speculation as to the cause of the great bee die-off. Scientists have mentioned cell phones, pesticides, and mites. They have also mentioned something about bee nutrition. We still have many many honey bees here at the farm, and I stand by my earlier post. The bees need a varied and organic eco-system to survive. I have fed the  bees this year, leaving much of the herbs,fruits and blossoms to run wild. I am relieved to see, at this time, the bee-busy fruits of my garden, and shall pray for their health and well being over the coming winter. I'm letting them keep their secret, those wild bees, and I shall not hunt down their honey this year. I'll let them fatten themselves and their brood, and we will see them again next year, ma'shallah...

These are golden days in the garden, the last of the grapes are hanging on the vine and the end of tomato season is in sight. There's a couple of pumpkins left on the vine, and the last of the late summer peppers are turning the fiery red of autumn. I've got to make like the busy bees, and gather up the last of the summer fruits, make the last pesto, gather the last herbs and dig up those potatoes for winter.



They call autumn 'fall' also. I've taken a hint from the common name for the season, and come upon a lazier and less time consuming way to collect seed. Just let the garden grow, and let those shaggy seed heads dry on the plant. Then, in the late autumn heat, take paper bags and a small bamboo wand. You may cover the seed heads with the paper bag, and hit them with wands, and, viola, the seeds fall into the bag....garden gold for next year, or for trading. (If you do it this way, be prepared to NOT to get the award for the neatest garden . On the other hand, it keeps the shallow away.) ;-)

We are still not sustainable at the farm, although we have been completely solar-powered since 1990. We can't quite grow enough food to feed ourselves without going down to the store and trading some money around, and, although there are times of harvest surplus, I don't quite have enough arable land to be completely self-sustaining (which I think is a myth anyway). We do have a wonderful organic food garden—what used to be termed a 'victory garden' back in the forties during WWII in America. Way back when, each family was encouraged to grow their own produce to further aid the war effort. I like to think of my little garden here as a Peace garden. Every thing I'm able to grow or make does not require someone else's slave labor to produce, be it from the Chinese prison factories or the Iraqi oil-grab.

So, string up the peppers, make apple juice, apple sauce, maybe I can get grappa out of the last of the grapes, after the bees leave...

Autumn is stretching out late this year. On some of the perennials we are getting a second season, although the water in the pond is low for this time of year, and if the winter rains do not come, we will be in trouble next year, but it does not look like a drought year yet...



I was thinking about global warming, and wondering if there is a transition that is more gentle, and less cataclysmic than the one that is being touted. What if global warming meant that we would need less oil to heat, because it was warmer? What if an extended growing season meant that we could get more food from our gardens? What if we all stopped fighting about scarcity, and learned to live a slightly smaller life, with a little more hands on experience of the food chain? Could we live on less, and help our neighbors? Could we have peace in the garden, and peace on earth?

Food for thought, this autumn.