Sowing Seeds and Transplanting.

On the 22nd of September, Bob gave us a lesson on using the Junior Seeder he uses to sow seeds. He says they’re a few hundred bucks, and are much better quality and more reliable than the big, fancy, gas-powered machines available for thousands. Particularly, if you are running a manageable farm, you should have no problem with this mechanical device.

It’s not for very big or very small seeds. You wouldn’t use it for very valuable seeds, either.

M and I both pushed it for a few rows. It was pretty hard work, but not too difficult. It requires a lot of calculation to decide what diameter of hole to use for the seeds. It depends on how many plants you want, what the germination rate is, and the frequency of seed dispersal. 

You can use a vacuum planter with pulletized seeds (made into pullets by covering with clay, but they’re expensive, and only really useful for industrial agriculture. 

The next day, we had a lesson on transplanting sprouted seeds. 

First, you broadcast seeds throughout an 8 by 8 inch nursery tray (Bob says they used to be available made with wood, but now only come in plastic). Once the cotyledons have reached a few inches, you transplant the sprouts to give them space, a group of two to three for every square inch of  tray space. If you water them the night before, the sprouts will be dry and easy to transplant. 

You must take a small handful of sprouts in your left hand and disentangle the roots of a few with your right hand. Pinch the stems in your hand left hand, while you use your right hand to make a hole in the soil. Place the group of sprouts in the hole, and cover with dirt. Don’t worry about making them stand straight up or anything. They’ll stand on their own after a watering. Actually, it’s nice to have them leaning away from you, to give you more room to work. 

Sowing seeds in a nursery is good for sensitive plants, and for time-space sharing. If you have something growing in the field that will be done with harvesting in a month, you can start growing another plant in the nursery. When the first plant is mowed down at the end of its cycle, you can have the other crop ready to transplant into the ground. Then, you’ve saved a month of field-space.

You can use three different data-points from which to cycle your garden or farm: the moon, the human calendar, and the conditions of nature around you. Bob always plants seeds at the full moon, but you can use any other lunar formation. Also, note the actual date. Then, look around you and see what the other plants are doing. Then, you’ll know, for example, that when you planted the summer squash that did so well, it was a late april full moon, and the catkins of the willow tree were out. No matter where you move, you will know that when the catkins are out on the willow tree, it’s time to plant the squash.

The latter data point helps because the seasons are always different. This year’s winter will be different than next year’s winter. The plants, though, are very attuned to the weather, and know when the first frost will be. If it will be early, they will go to seed early– if late, they will go to seed late, etc… It’s pretty amazing that plants are able to prepare themselves ahead of time. They are that connected to the dirt and the air. Sometimes, they get confused, but you have to really work at it, like spray a bunch of weed-killer at their trunks. Pretty funny that we put orange fences around the old oaks to mark them off from the other vegetation being mowed over and paved over for development, but then we use so much chemical crap on our lawns, it ends up killing much of those trees anyways.

Chez Panisse Party and Chicken Basics.

Sunday was the annual party for Chez Panisse and Green String staff. It was held in and around a large barn on Green String. Hay bales had been set outside for use as benches. A brick oven had been built and an iron door made from Aurelio’s forge expressly for the purpose of the party. Pizzas were made in the oven and two sheep roasted on large metal skewers over an open fire. There were beans, tortillas, and salads, and for dessert, homemade chocolate chip ice cream with biscotti and tarts from the oven.

There was much wine and all was drunk. Two large tour buses arrived with the Chez Panisse staff. There were many people with kids and dogs, baseballs and soccer balls, instruments and voices. I saw a few people I knew from Berkeley. And, of course, Alice Waters was in attendance. I regret not getting a chance to meet her, although she did wink at me. By that time, I was too wasted and exhausted to want to have an intelligent conversation with anyone. There was so much stimulation, I was drained, drained.

I met one of the head chefs from Chez, who suggested us interns come to the restaurant and see “the other side.” See the food prepared and eaten! When we fill their orders on Mondays and Thursdays, I sometimes think what will come of that bean or berry, and sometimes what comes of it is that it goes in my belly.

Monday was the usual morning order filling harvest for the restaurant, followed by a long lunch at Ross’ house, and fig picking. You must pick figs when they are at their full ripeness. Any green is too much. If they are not yet ripe, a milky substance leaks from their stem, which is irritating to the skin. Also, their stem nubbin must come off the tree intact to keep the fig preserved. It was Ross, his friend, M, and I picking. The picking turned into a fig-fight, with us all sneaking and hiding behind and up trees, throwing. Tired from our battle, we all sat down on the hillside, looking down over the grapevines far below. Ross’ friend, Colin, said, “This is so fun. It’s like being a kid again.”

I contemplated this the next day during our lesson with Bob. We learned how to use a seeder, which is a contraption with two wheels, a seed holder, and handles. You push it up and down the rows, and it sows the seeds into the ground at the desired depth and frequency. Bob discussed the economics of choosing the frequency: how much the seed costs, its germination rate, how old it is. We also hand-sowed seeds that Bob broadcast on another plot. Again, economics: Bob broadcast them because it was important that it was done right with this expensive seed and important plot—a crop of kale that is expected to produce five thousand dollars.

Being a farmer would not be like being a kid again. Being an intern, however, is.

Tuesday morning brought a lesson with Bob’s father (also named Bob). Bob Sr. is the local poultry expert. He is in his eighties, but is very much active. He is good to talk to, and has a great wealth of knowledge. He tells us that we are the ones who are able to make a difference; that he doesn’t have the time any more— it’s us.

Here’s the lesson:

The wild jungle fowl of Malaysia were domesticated into what we now know as chickens. The domesticated fowl were moved west to India, the Middle East, and Egypt. The ancient Egyptians were very talented domesticators, hatching many chicks in sand incubators and developing what is now known as one of the Mediterranean breeds, which have white eggs. 

From Malaysia, the chicken also moved east to China, where it was developed for meat rather than eggs. The eggs of these Asian breeds are brown. 

The chicken also moved north into Germany, France, and England. These breeds, such as the Dorking and Sussex, are small and produce many eggs.

In the U.S., “dual-purpose” breeds were developed– good for eggs as well as meat– and has now formed into a worldwide industry. These, of course, are big. Breeds include the Light Bromma, the Rhode Island Red, the Dominic, and the Jersey Giant. These breeds are also high in fat content. For example, Foster Farms chickens are 20% body fat. Bob Sr. said that he has developed chickens of only 6% body fat, and if  their testes are removed, they can attain a weight of up to 16 pounds, the size of a small turkey.

This is also about efficiency: how well a chicken can convert feed into carcass weight. At Foster Farms, they don’t want the chickens to be active, nor get any sunlight. If they do not move and do not get any sunlight, their flesh will be very tender. I thought about those  chicken commercials Foster Farms used to (still does?) do, where the chicken puppets are trying to escape. Jesus. 

It takes 21 days, almost exactly, to incubate eggs of any breed. For the Mediterranean breeds, a higher temperature of incubation is needed (like the Leghorns), but for the most part, you need 99.5 degrees of circulated heat or 101 degrees of static heat for an egg to hatch. Also, a high amount of humidity is needed. You can make a home incubator, with a light bulb to produce heat, and a dish of water to evaporate into humidity. You must turn the eggs a couple times a day, or the fetus will stick to the side of the egg and cause it to abort. Bob Sr. says he puts them on a flat cookie sheet in the incubator, and runs his hands over them to turn them. If you buy an incubator, always keep the eggs pointed-side down. The gives the fetus room to grow in. 

To find a fertile egg, you do a method called “candling.” You can buy a candler, or make one by poking a hole in the top of a tin can, placing a light bulb in through the bottom, and placing an egg on top of the hole, so the light shines just through the egg. If you see the little white sperm, then you know it’s fertile (you’ve all seen that funny white stringy thing in your eggs before, right? That’s the sperm! What would the anti-abortionists say?).

The Mediterranean breeds have become very bad at incubating their own eggs, because they have been hatched for them for so long, but the Asian breeds can hatch their own.

Don’t have many different breeds or different aged chicks together– they’ll fight.

Soybean meal is good protein for them.

Leave their poop on the ground in the winter and just cover with straw. When it decomposes, it provides warmth for the chickens.

You can free-range chickens, but you have to put them in at night to protect them from predators. To catch a chicken, pretend you’re walking one way, then walk the other way– you must trick them. Whatever you do, don’t chase them. You’ll never win.  

They really like lightly cooked veggies, and they also like their own egg shells smashed up– it’s a good source of calcium. Things like cantaloupe must be cut open so they can eat the soft flesh. They are great garbage disposers! 

They like grain spread on the ground. It’s good for scratching and finding. Give them a little at night, because it digests slowly. Give them standard feed in the morning. Veggies all day. Their feed (mash) must be 16-18% protein. If they’re not getting enough protein, they’ll want to eat each other. 

Hen to rooster ratio should be 10:1 max for Mediterranean breeds, and 15:1 max for Asian breeds. If it’s more, the hens will peck at each other. They can be very mean.

Melissa and I want to hatch some chicks. Bob Sr. thinks everyone should keep at least a couple of hens. They’re so easy to take care of, they provide the satisfaction and economy of growing your own food, and they produce fresh (and maybe organic and free-range) eggs right in your backyard. What’s not to like?

Potatoes Plus Amaranth Equals a Happy Couple

On Saturday, students from the UC Santa Cruz agricultural program visited Bob’s Farm, and M and I attended his tour. This group of students were much less shy about picking something off a plant and eating it, and asked very good questions.

 

Bob believes that poor quality nutrition is the basis of disease, which is an idea I have encountered elsewhere— for example, in a book I am currently reading entitled, Consuming Passions: An Anthropology of Eating. In this book, the author discusses how instances of TB and other diseases decreased dramatically many years prior to their identification and vaccine development. A malnourished person is much more likely to contract and die from an illness, and in impoverished countries even with medical care, diseases like TB, measles, pneumonia, and influenza are major problems.

 

This has made me question the existence of so many systems of aid based on medical care. Have we overlooked the even closer and more fundamental necessity of good nutrition? Are we treating cancer, heart attacks, and diabetes at points far from their causation? Would it be better to ensure that people can glean food subsistence independently than to provide vaccinations?

 

When discussing the quality of soil at his farm, Bob said that it was a less productive soil than places in the Sacramento Valley, for example. He chose the land for this very reason, he said, because a very fertile soil will continue to be fertile for some time even if you’re farming it in an extractive manner. However, if you begin on tough soil, it will be more responsive and you will know quite easily whether you are doing things correctly or incorrectly. What drove Bob to be a farmer in this way was his observation that plants seemed to grow so well and fully naturally and without any external inputs, but human crops seemed to need so much to get them to grow.

 

It made me disappointed and angry to think about the productive and fertile soil of the Sacramento Valley, of which Roseville (my hometown), is a part. All of that precious ground was built on and covered with concrete as if it were disposable, and all landscaping by policy homogenous and not including anything for subsistence, or even for nature for that matter. Nice, clean, green grass injected with weed killers, and a tree in the middle of the street every 15 feet that can’t even hold itself up. What will happen if and when the land is once again needed for food production? Will we have the fuel necessary to tear the concrete back up again?

 

Our history of growing has allowed us to sap land of its nutrients and move on to the next plot. Sooner or later, we will reach a point when there is no next plot. Bob talked a lot about the ecological changes in Sebastopol. It used to be a temperate rainforest, and is now only suitable for the agricultural growth of grapevines. Initially, Sebastopol’s redwood trees were cut down and raspberries were grown. The summer rains stopped without the redwood trees there, and topsoil was lost in massive quantities as a result of the loss of flora. In one recorded instance, 18” of topsoil was lost in one torrential winter downpour. When the climate was too dry in the summer for raspberries, apples were grown. Now, grapevines are the main crop, able to withstand much dryness and low-nutritive soils. Soon, only something like buckwheat will grow, and then, desert-like conditions will prevent agriculture viability.

 

When we grow all for humanity and nothing for nature, nature cannot continue to produce, which is why at Green String, there is always one crop for nature for every human crop. Weeds will be allowed to grow or seeds actually sown between crops to provide ground cover, soil support, and structural support. The food crops grow with the weeds, and when the weeds become bigger than the food crop, they are cut down to size, but never pulled. Their root system is important in soil nutrient building and aeration, and it takes much less energy to merely suppress their growth vs. pulling them. A ‘clean cultivated’ farm, with nothing growing between crops, is not “under control,” but selfishly sucking all nutrients for human consumption only.

 

Bare? Fallow? Never.

 

Rico Berto

 

 

Human and Fly Consanguinity

09/19/08

 

Today was the day for the Sonoma Farmer’s Market, which goes from 9 am to noon. M and I left at 7:30 to go pick eggplants at another property. They have free-range chickens and a pregnant sow. There were so many eggplants, I picked them quickly. Then, we drove to Bob’s farm to pick up broccoli.

 

We met Ross at the market and set up shop. A lot of people there knew Ross. Next to us was Walter the Plant Guy, as Ross and M call him, who sells succulents and drives a beautiful vw bus. The sellers at the market barter a lot. Walter gave Ross a succulent in exchange for some veggies.

 

Afterwards, Ross gave us mula for lunch out, and we ate in the park from a French-style café. The tourists stuck out like sore thumbs. We certainly looked the part of farm-chicas, as I had on overalls and we both had muddy, dirty boots.

 

After yummy garden and Portobello burgers, we drove to the Jacuzzi vineyard and winery to use the kitchen. The Clines own the winery as well as Green String. A sign stating “Green String Certified” was donned on the side of the road near the property. Bob’s farm and, of course, Green String Farm, are also certified ‘green string.’ Bob does not agree with the current organic certification process, and believes it to serve only industrial-style agriculture. I agree. In order to go beyond ‘organic,’ Bob began the term ‘green string’ to label a kind of agriculture which adheres not only to the non-use of certain chemicals, but all chemicals, and generally a way of growing food that sustains nature as well as humans.

 

Jacuzzi has a gorgeous building at its entrance. I told M it reminded me of a plant that shows off its colorful blossoms so all the bees will come to it. Here, it’s the tourists who come to it. The building looks like a castle, made of stone with big heavy wooden doors and wrought iron hardware. The kitchen in the back is also amazing. The stove has twelve ranges. The cooking supplies are giant—giant bowls, pots, pans. The plan was to use the large amount of raspberries that were going to go bad if we didn’t make a product out of them soon. The product was to be raspberry soda. We spent the next hour and a half cooking down the berries ($80 worth) and straining their juice into a big pot. M and I took a break in the middle to check out the winery. We tasted a couple of wines at the tasting counter and chatted with the man working there. We also tasted various kinds of olive oils made and sold at the winery.

 

So much that is available in Sonoma is made locally. Everyone makes something; everyone is a creator of something, an artisan. When M and I got back in the kitchen, a man with orange hair and beard was unloading things and bringing them inside, including a toolbox. I assumed it was someone preparing for an event that was to happen later on. Then, he took out several very large cheeses: wheels and blocks, and opened up his toolbox, which was filled with an amazing variety of cheese-cutting knives. He cut a big chunk of cheese off the wheel, wrapped it in plastic, and gave it to Ross. “Here, Ross, this is for you.” It must have been a pound of cheese, it was so big.

 

Turns out this is Gary the Cheese Guy. He gave M and I a couple tastes of cheese. One a lovely parmesan. I said, “I like the little crunchies.” He said, “Yes, those are calcium crystals.” The other we tastes was a soft, white sheep’s milk cheese. Yum!

 

Outside, Ross gave up grocery money and the huge chunk of cheese. “Wow, thanks,” I said. I don’t think I have ever been in possession of such a large chunk of cheese. Amazing. Amazing how food is so bountiful and passed around so freely. There are very intricate connections of people giving gifts of food, kitchen use, land….

 

When M and I got back to the house, we collected the chicken eggs, and went to go talk to Bob, who was in the forge across from our house. We met Aurelio, who rents out the forge from Bob. We all talked for quite some time, about food, about work, about life and land and economy. Aurelio had forged a door for a brick oven specially made for a party to be held on Sunday. You see? Everyone makes things. And they’re very good at it. After Bob left, Aurelio showed us around the forge and showed us his portfolio photos. His brothers, who work with him, live in a house near us on the farm. They are very good at what they do. They are artists and craftspeople. They are artisans.

 

We have a fly problem in our house, so I thought we should get a fly swatter, or maybe sticky fly tape. We found a flytrap to use. It was a sticky roll with images of flies on it. The flies are attracted to the image and then get stuck. I wasn’t thinking, though, that the flies would be alive when they got stuck and would be tortured until they starved to death. What a trick! Imagine seeing your buddies, and going to hang out with them, only to find that they are dummies and you’re now stuck!  I said to M, “Let’s not use this after all.”

“Okay,” she said, “let’s toss it.”

I blew on it and discovered that one of the flies was still alive. I was going to take it outside and try to get the fly off. As I carried it, the fly flapped its wings with great effort. I took a little stick and put it under the fly’s body. Then, I gently lifted it up, attempting to free the fly from the glue. I watched as the fly’s mouth opened wide. I tried once more, and again, its mouth opened wide. It was screaming! It was screaming. I put the trap in the trash, disturbed, and tried to squash it with a piece of paper M had retrieved for the purpose. I hope I did squash it.

 

Oh! The image of the flies little mouth opening wide as I tried to help it free kept coming back into my head. Later, I tried to stop thinking about it, but then I realized that maybe I should think about it. What was that? Why did that bother me so much?

 

It bothered me because for that moment, the fly and I were consanguine. I was witness to its pain. I could see it. I had been looking closely. That fly screamed. I could not hear its scream, but that fly screamed. We are flies. We are small compared to those things that are large, we scream, we suffer, we die. We are consanguine with the flies, because we are also beings. It’s high time we realized that.

Cannard Farm Guests and Apocalyptic Prophesies

Today is Thursday, and on Thursday, we harvest produce for Chez Panisse in Berkeley. So, M and I drove to Bob’s farm (Cannard Farm– pronounced kuh- NARD) in Sonoma. We arrived a little past 8. We picked raspberries first, then string beans, then zucchini blossoms, then zucchinis. The zucchini plants are prickly, and they give a very hollow crunch if you step on their stems. I didn’t even know the blossoms were edible.

Two classes from Stanford were to arrive at eleven. The plan was to accompany them on a tour of the farm, and have lunch with the students and professors following. Then we heard that one class was a “food and politics” class, and the other a sort of  “varieties of music” class. I don’t need to state why the former class came, but the latter was to collect noisy objects from around the farm, as well as record sounds they heard.

Following Bob’s tour, all of us participated in the making of lunch under the direction of Charlene Nicholson Cannard (who is a chef at Chez Panisse). My goodness—the best pizzas ever, with eggplant, goat cheese, olives, figs, wow. Beans that I picked were made into a salad with oil, herbs, and breadcrumbs, a tomato salad with purple basil, fresh (really really fresh) mozzarella and basil, and zucchini blossoms stuffed with ricotta! Oi, that may have been the most memorable meal of my life. Everything was so great, I felt so lucky to be partaking in it, it felt so great to know that I helped harvest it just that morning.

Then we enjoyed an improvisational musical performance (which quite comically included the word “balls”). It was great, actually. Some of the recordings the students had made of the food preparation played while we ate. It was like a contraction, an audible folding over of the past into the present. The making and the consuming.

Some people ate a cow named Mr. Smartypants, but I didn’t. I said that he must have not been very smart.

Once all the students left, I was wine-tired but, of course, helped with the cleanup. I did my favorite task, though— dishes. Bob washed and I dried. He asked me about the day (he had snuck away after giving the tour—from my understanding, he keeps very busy). This sometimes-called-menial task provided such a great opportunity for conversation, and the task was finished before I knew it as a result.

We talked about food, of course, and I asked Bob if he thought there would be a time when there is not enough food in the U.S. for everyone to eat. He said definitely. I asked him when he think that might happen, and he said within the next ten months. “Within the next ten months? That soon?”

“Yes,” he said, “look at the financial system right now. We’re worse off than in the depression. We are very poor right now [meaning the U.S.].”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Ninety percent of the financial corporations are in the control of the federal government right now… My friend says he thinks we’re turning communist…. If something like that happens, everyone’s going to come to you.”

“Yeah, and steal my food!… You know, I have a garden in Sonoma, in the city. It’s only about two acres, but very nice, and very productive, and I got a note the other day from the city that says it’s illegal to grow crops in the city of Sonoma!”

“What?! Why?”

“I have no idea, it’s just illegal.”

“Huh.”

We also discussed whether one should have their money in the bank right now. He says to keep it in silver and gold. I said to keep it in alcohol.

I really trust Bob and respect his opinion, and to hear from him that he thinks it will only be within the next ten months that our systems of food production and distribution come crashing down really affected me. For some time now, I have been telling people about my anxiety concerning food production and availability. I don’t really know what they think, but I know that most people don’t take me seriously. Perhaps they think I am actually insane when I say, “Hoard food, hoard water, and buy a gun,” and yes, it sounds crazy, but, in fact, the crazy thing is that it’s not crazy. Perhaps that phrase is a bit extreme, but the point is: be prepared, and that can mean mentally as well as physically. Most important, though, is be aware. Our systems our fallible, and are actually now teetering on the edge of complete disintegration. When it will actually happen and what that will result in are the questions to be answered.

Right now, it is bothering me, and I don’t exactly know what to do about it. 

Lesson With Bob Cannard

Today, M and I received our first formal lesson from Bob Cannard, Green String’s Director. We walked around the field, and he discussed how one assesses a plant: the color, the anchorage of the roots, the symmetry, the turbidity (it’s ability to hold itself up).

You determine any problems with a plant based on its symptoms. If the roots are not extensive (with few little feeder-roots), then the problem is likely soil-related. If there is yellowing of the leaves and a lack of turbidity, the plant is not receiving enough moisture. A corn plant will even send out a fat seeker root in the direction of a leaky faucet 50 ft away. When pointing out the roots of a celery plant, he was careful to say that the brown feeder roots were “not old, but have lived.”

Bob emphasized that a plant is non-deceptive– it is naked, it does not get up and walk away, it is right there for you to observe. By looking at a plant, one can observe its many pasts, as well as its future. Glancing at the leeks, we could observe the pasts apparent in the dry, brown hanging leaves, as well as marks left on the plant from leaves already decomposed. You can see past wounds– past trauma– by looking at a plant. (I can’t help but think of humans as Bob discusses the lives of plants).

We observed the cycles of a plant as it translocates its nutrients from outer (or lower) leaves to inner (or upper) leaves, all in preparation for “seed babies,” as Bob likes to call them. 

A good plant is bouncy (it will perk back up if you bend it), has good tear strength (a test of how much pressure it can withhold before it tears), and has good radial and/or bilateral symmetry. The fuzziness, waxiness, and scent of a plant keeps bugs away until the plant is ready for the bugs. A good and healthy plant can defend itself from bugs, but needs bugs in order to digest and decompose its used parts. 

As we observed plants, many cucumber beetles, or Diabrotica, flew around. These bugs eat plants, and so are considered foes by many farmers, but Bob discussed how they only eat the old leaves, not the new. Mildew is also your friend, as it likewise helps to break down old organic matter and make its nutrients accessible to new plants. 

Time-space sharing is another method Bob likes to use. You can overlap the planting and harvesting of plants, in order to increase your efficiency. So you can be harvesting celery while eggplant is coming up, for example. The celery and eggplant share space and time, thereby increasing production. It also promotes biodiversity and helps crops withstand frosts, heavy rains, or other extreme weather. The varying root structures also support each other. 

Morning Glory grew amongst the squash plants, which Bob said would transfer its mildew to the squash plants when they were ready to be broken down. 

The soil on GS is crumbly and compact. Bob said it’s high in magnesium. You water it, and then rototill a couple days later in order to break it up. If you rototill too soon, the clumps are squished together– you can see a shine on the clumps that is a sign of this. What causes it to clump is also bacteria and microorganisms. A good tester of moisture in the soil is digging out a handfull from about 5 inches deep, squishing it together with your hands as much as possible, and then seeing if it breaks up again with just a bit of tapping. If it does, you’re good to go. If not, more water and rototill.

Bob advises against lining plants with plastic. when the organic matter is chopped up after harvest, most of it ends up being plastic. I believe that we will one day be eating plastic (if we aren’t already), and you know what they say: You are what you eat.

First Day at Green String

I have gotten settled in at the farm house at Green String Farm. Ross and Melissa (the other intern) were setting out herbs to dry on the upper story of the barn by the farm store. 

We drove to the intern house, where Ross made carrot juice and Melissa fixed me up a snack of goat cheese, tomatoes, and fresh purple basil. Melissa showed me the satellite chicken coop. There are too many roosters, and the pecking order is getting violent. Many of the hens have backs bare of feathers. I told Melissa of my friend’s theory that chickens are stupid and don’t even realize or care that you’re taking their eggs. M said that she disagreed. One of the hens, she said, lays many eggs and is angry when they are taken. 

We gave them vegetables and fruit that was bruised, and fed them three buckets of grain. Some of the hens waited at my feet in anticipation of me pouring more grain from the bucket I held. I was hesitant about the chickens– imagining they would peck at my feet and thinking of Orwell’s animal farm. They are the only animals kept at the farm, but I think taking care of them and collecting their eggs will be one of the most difficult things for me to reconcile, particularly when dealing with the issue of over-crowding and their naked backs. 

Melissa will be making various herbal soaps to sell. I am interested in making apple butter, but the trees at GS are immature and don’t bear much fruit. If a lot comes from other farms, though, perhaps that will be a possibility. 

M and I will be making some bread for the morning (i brought my own apple butter for the time being). Ross and his girlfriend are coming for dinner. I made a cashew alfredo sauce last night– perhaps we’ll use that.

My mind will certainly be occupied by food for the next several months. 

I am at the Petaluma Library and will check out:

A Continuous Harmony, Berry

The Essential Agrarian Reader, Wirzba

Alternative Agriculture: A History, Thirsk

Against the Grain: How Agriculture has Hijacked Civilization, Manning

Fatal Harvest: The Tragedy of Industrial Agriculture, Kimbrell

Currently, I am also reading this great book called Consuming Passions: An Anthropology of Eating by Farber. I will post more thoroughly on that book later.

Bounty of Ideas at Slow Food Nation

As I thoroughly described in my last post, I was in attendance at Slow Food Nation’s “Food For Thought” speaker series on Saturday, August 30th. Following are my notes  as well as some thoughts of the discussion on Climate Change and Food, which included Wes Jackson, Carl Pope, Ari Bernstein, Patrick Holden, and Anna Lappe, and was moderated by Mark Hertsgaard.

 The talk began on a somber note, as projections of drastic decreases in crop yields as a result of climate change was discussed, as well as potential future problems with water availability for those crops. 

Wes Jackson countered that the actual changes that will take place as a result of climate change are unpredictable, and Carl Pope stated that it is that very unpredictability which may lead to our demise. “We are a weedy species,” Pope said, “we adapt– but we cannot adapt to uncertainty.” Just one degree celsius increase in temperature in our prairie land, Jackson said, may turn the prairie to a dry, hot, sandy terrain, or, some say, could even create the exact opposite effect of a wetter (but still hotter, of course) environment.

Anna Lappe spoke of her “sleuthing” at food industry conferences and what those industries are or are not doing to counter global warming. While the Grocery Manufacturers Organization held its first ever Sustainability Summit, the Meat Manufacturers Conference was void of any inquiry on the topic– this when meat production creates 18% of greenhouse emissions globally!

Monsanto, according to Lappe, puts forward the rationale that the increase of small, organic farms would take up so much space that we will be sacrificing our forests for farms. Proponents of biotech farming dispense this information to the public, creating a false impression of the real consequences of organic farming vs. chemical farming. It is true that organic farming can result in lower yields in the short term, but if we concern ourselves with the future of the human species, land that is sapped of its ability to support plant life as a result of irresponsible farming becomes the obvious loser in the production-race. Indeed, Lappe said, the inefficiency of chemical agriculture is not accounted for in many calculations (for example, the oil used to ship fertilizer across the globe).

And, anyways, hunger is not even about scarcity, it’s about democracy! We do not have a lack of food, we have unequal access and distribution. (Berry discusses democratic land distribution in Home Economics.)

Speaking of food democracy, Lappe touched on the growing consumption of meat, and how it is held that humans naturally desire meat. She asks, is this really autonomous desire? In South Korea, she recounted, she had witnessed boycott demonstrations against U.S. imported beef. They felt the beef to be unsafe and a possible carrier of mad cow disease and were critical of ad campaigns which they felt had created a demand for meat. I think of advertisements I have seen for U.S. beef. They show lean steak at very close range, so that it appears to be a landscape. Herbs appear to be trees and bushes. If eating meat is such a natural inclination, what is the use for millions of dollars spent on ad campaigns? People should just naturally seek out flesh, no? Hence, the market for meat is created through ads and through cultural ideals on the performance of wealth.

There was also much discussion on the U.S. Farm Bill signed by Mr. Bush. Pope made the argument that the farm bill is not about food for the poor at all, but is rather about the most food from the least labor. This, of course, creates unemployment, and even a permanent unemployable class. Jackson agreed, and stated that the greatest source of untapped energy on this planet is in fact, human energy.

Patrick Holden put it succinctly that “a lot needs to happen in a terrible hurry.” I firmly believe it does, and the hurry will be terrible if we don’t hurry now. However, solutions made to work in the short term, said Carl Pope, must also work for the long term. 

A rich point in the conversation was reached when, following this comment, Jackson spoke of the need to de-emphasize growth as the dominant economic ideology. This sounded to me like Bill McKibben’s Deep Economy. Jackson certainly had a good point with this comment– our country in particular suffers from the Frontier Illness, which contributes to the tacit understanding that there is always space to grow into. This is what creates sprawling suburbs and decrepit inner cities; growing out leaves everything shallow. 

Pope raised issue with this idea, stating that we cannot stop thinking about growth when “three hundred million people in India want electricity.” Jackson diffused the tension by raising above his head a swatch of prairie grass he had traveled with from Kansas. The grass itself measured about 18″ long, but the thin, intertwined, knit-like roots stretched 8 ft. down. Talk about deep economy!

Slow Food Nation: What It Took To Get In

 

Farmers Equal Liberty?

I attended the three Slow Food Nation panel discussions on Saturday, August 30th. I had a ticket for the first panel on Climate Change. An amazing panel. 

 

But…. Who I really wanted to see more than anyone else was Wendell Berry. He is my hero of the land, and his writing is what sparked my interest in agriculture in the first. I hoped to snag an extra ticket somehow by asking around. Before the first panel commenced, I struck up a conversation with the woman next to me. “Are you going to the panel at 4?”

“Yes, I am.”
“I tried to get a ticket, but it was all sold out.”

“It did sell out fast. I only got a ticket because my husband is on the panel.”

“Who is your husband?”
“Wendell Berry.”

How funny. I just so happened to sit right next to Tanya Berry. I tried to conceal my excitement.

“Really? He’s the reason I want to see the talk.”

We chatted a bit, and she said, “Well, if you really wanna see it, you could just hang out in the theatre.”

I thought, Hey, good idea.

After the Climate Change panel, I went to the woman’s bathroom in the basement, where I discovered a lounge area adjacent. Some people were inside, eating lunch. I sat and wrote and thought until the next panel was about to begin. Since the bathroom was not past the ticket takers, I walked right into the second panel, on Edible Education, undetected.

Now, all I had to do was sit through this panel and hide until Wendell’s panel began. It had been so easy the first time. I would just do the same thing as before. Meanwhile, the only consumables I had brought in my bag were an Odwalla bar and a canteen of coffee— and I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I was getting quite hungry as the second panel wore on. 

At the end of the panel, the discussion mediator was handed a note and announced, “Everyone, please clear the theatre between panels, and if you have a ticket, then you may reenter. We need to clear the theatre between panels. Thank you.”

Oh no, had I been detected, so close to the start of Wendell’s panel?! By now, I had to see Wendell Berry speak. I had already starved myself for some hours. 

I planned to exit near the stage, thereby avoiding the crowd in the aisles, and go in through another set of double doors near the bathroom stairs. Oh no! They have those doors closed now! I shoved my jacket into my bag and returned to the door I had exited through. I said to the girl manning the door, “I left my jacket in there. Can I go back in?” She nods. Whew. That was close. 

I go back in, make my way through the crowd and down to the basement to the women’s bathroom. I wait for the line to die down and then enter a stall. Should I stay in the stall until the panel starts? No, that’s silly. I was my hands and sit back in the lounge. A photographer readies his equipment, but other than him, I’m the only one there. I sit behind a pillar, hoping to be unnoticed, writing in my notebook just to make it appear as if I’m press, as if I’m supposed to be there. Eek. There’s a girl who is wearing a staff apron. Will she question me? I am so jacked up on caffeine that I am paranoid! 

Paradoxical, isn’t it, that I have to starve myself in order to attend the talks about slow food.

I will wait until the bathroom gets busy again. That will tell me if they have begun to let people in.

What if they are now checking tickets right at the theatre entrance? What will I say? I left my jacket? Then what? An escort?

Thirteen minutes and still undiscovered. Soon now. Soon. I also want a good seat. Is that too much to ask? What if the staff can smell my guilt?

Guilty, guilty conscience.

I overhear some ladies walking into the restroom, “Do you think people who had a ticket for the panel beforehand just stayed in here to see this one?… Oh, no. That’s right. They couldn’t. They had to leave.”

Ten minutes til showtime. Here I go.

I get a comment card from the lady with the basket. She asks me if I have a seat yet.

“No.”

“Ok, well, it’s all full down here, but you can go up to the balcony. The stairs are…”

“Oh, I’ll just go down to the stairs by the stage.”

“Ok”

I sit in a good box seat on the side balcony. I’m in!

Wendell Berry is the bomb!

It was so worth it.

Green String Institute

Green String Farm is where I will be spending three months of my life 09/08 to 12/08, to learn methods of sustainable agriculture. I want to touch the soil, I want to encourage the plants, I want to partake in the harvest and welcome everyone to the table. 

Most of all, I want to use my body. Wendell Berry says the greatest source of untapped energy is human energy. Human energy! Why have we considered for so long labor to be unpleasurable; the use of the body unseemly? Even sex is viewed in this way. Berry also says if we had a machine to that to our liking, we wouldn’t do that with our bodies either! 

I think we should connect every treadmill in the country to the power grid.

My body wants use (and i include the brain as part and parcel of the body). It wants to do, to form, to change what is outside of it. It wants to take in, break down, return. I want to know where what I consume is coming from. The greatest tragedy of our time is the loss of history: what is this that I eat/wear/drive/read? Where did it come from? Who made it?

The festival of disconnect is Christmas. Yes, Christmas. That celebration when we get a whole lot of shit from nowhere. It just shows up. Magical, huh? Oh, wait, we know where it comes from! Those happy laboring elves! They are so happy in their little elf sweatshops making tons of plastic crap for all the girls and boys. 

This holiday teaches our children ignorance. My Christmas would involve making, creating.

This disconnect is why I don’t eat meat, and refrain as much as possible from animal products (if it’s free, ok). One has no clue what this animal who this meat constituted endured to be on our table. In fact, we attempt to mystify its origin as much as possible. ‘Nugget’ is not an element of the chicken’s anatomy. I have seen chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs. Why are they not in the shape of chickens? Or any other contemporaneous animal? No, they are shaped like creatures that have been extinct for so long, they might as well be mythological to the child– further blurring reality. 

I will eat eggs on the farm. I know where those eggs came from. I know those chickens. I don’t see any nuggets.

 

p.s. green string is currently accepting applications for its innovative internship program

The Radical Farmer

It has been a long time since I have written, and it has been two years since my fieldwork in NYC. I have worked with the Berkeley Needle Exchange for the past year, and am now preparing to intern at Green String Institute in Petaluma.

So, what brings me from poop to permaculture? It’s actually quite a straightforward trajectory, actually. 

What really interested me about the houseless was their radicalism, their critique and ‘fuck you.’ They believe there are some fundamental discontinuities in our system, and in fact, their mere presence is a signifier of a welling crisis. More to come on that topic.

But to stay astride with my point– the houseless want more intimacy with the earth. Today, I recounted to a friend a story of a person I interviewed who said that he was ready for the world to die; he wanted the world to die. He said that he could not go and kill a deer and eat it because he would be arrested without a permit, and anyways, all their space has been paved over. It was impossible for him to subsist except by purchasing food with money. 

Many of my subject-people expressed desire to have their own land from which to sustain themselves, some actually were migrant farm workers. Ownership, though, was a key issue for many. Wendell Berry speaks of democratic ownership of land- we are far from it. 

I realized that I am not interested in the traditional anthropological and sociological questions of homelessness, but on the very specificities of the houseless themselves. Why? I was hoping they could point me in the right direction. What do I do? Do I live without a house, too? Do I cease to participate in the usury and consumerism that plagues our nation, makes us fat, and widens the Great Pacific Garbage Patch? I could, but it would require placing myself in a space of destruction and dissolution. You cannot exist outside of the system without disintegrating or becoming reabsorbed. It just doesn’t work. 

So then what? Study policy? Change things from the inside? I think so. I’m pissed off and I aim to force people to stop doing things that piss me off. I want power. With power, I can help to alter our system of disgust and distrust, this simulacrum of a reality, bent upon its own destruction in the hopes of attaining another dollar. We need a new system of values.

In this search for new values, I need to start from the ground. The dirt is where our sustenance lays– the heart of our very being in this world. If change will come from anywhere, it will be from there. It is the basis not only of our biological, but also our economic self. Considering the state of the latter, dirt should be worth its weight in gold.

Both the houseless and the sustainable small farmer are coming from the same place: a place of seeking alternatives– those which we badly need.