After a hard day gardening... :)
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Michael Ableman and My Inner Peasant
Michael Ableman is a small-farm advocate, spreading the word about land stewardship and the importance of a regional food system. He market-farms on Saltspring Island, on a heritage homestead called Foxglove Farm, which also operates as a hub for forward-thinking folk interested in planning for the future of food. He fled to his Canadian outpost after years of farming California acreages that were constantly in peril from encroaching development.
He is continuing to speak out for those who can't speak for themselves: stoic, hard-working, long-suffering farmers who finally give up the fight, sell their land to developers, and move to a condo in Miami--or Victoria. He writes books of poetic prose about small farmers tending their land for past and present and future generations, and reads excerpts while showing slides of early morning misty potato fields.
I went to see Michael Ableman's presentation last week at the Centennial Theatre, mainly because I wanted to hear what someone who has made farm advocacy his full-time job had to say about the state of things. He is basically bearing witness to every small successful farmer he can find, and generating dialogue to support every food-growing enterprise in and outside the city. He advocates a list of recommendations society would follow if we actually valued agricultural production and wanted to make it a viable, profitable pursuit for up-and-comers. One suggestion is long-term land leases for willing hard-workers. He also frequently points out that "the farm is only as good as the farmer" and how important it is to pass on agricultural wisdom to the next generation. In the discussion afterwards, someone pointed out how land has become the latest "investment vehicle" rather than, again, being valued and stewarded for its fundamental food-producing capacity!
In all, I'm glad there's a community of smart people out there who are thinking about these things, coming up with "to do" lists and farming. Here on the West Coast, where milk and honey still (seem to) drip from trees, we exist in a bubble of abundance (perpetuated by the IOC) that relegates what is essentially a matter of survival (farming) to a quaint addition to our garden design schemes, or perhaps that lovely bohemian Saturday morning activity of shopping the local farmer's market with cappuccino in hand (I think I've just described my perfect day).
It's all good--it's just not enough. You know you're approaching self-reliance when you can't stand the sight of another bean or tomato or carrot or beet. We're still at the cappuccino level of food-production: it's our little treat for ourselves.
Meanwhile, the farmland we're really going to need when we really need it (?) is rapidly being big-boxed and condo-fied.
Alas, I am sooo guilty of loving the idea of farming. I attribute this to my inner indignant peasant, who finally transitioned to the merchant class, only to discover the urbane folk think peasantry is "in." I will not be duped back into the countryside to hoe the row! I spent my childhood peeling and pitting and canning and sweating and finally threw aside the mason jars for the delirium of flower-gardening. Imagine that: people who just want to grow flowers. Art takes precedence at last. Food? Bah! Let them eat cake.
This is a very bad attitude Ms. Antoinette, although I do eat a lot of cake (muffins, cookies, etc.). I do think I am making progress, however, because I do promote food gardening to some degree--however quaint--in my gardens. I think I like the "cottage-garden" idea, or perhaps the manor "kitchen-garden" concept, because it feels very urbane and swish to pluck morsels from one's garden to garnish one's life. Hmm. I think I may be on the verge of a functional shift.
Nevertheless, functional shifts are daunting. While attending talks given by charismatic mini-farmers such as Michael Ableman provide some sense of accomplishment (awareness is the first step!) actually doing something about our ravaged food system is...daunting.
Of course, we have the 100-Mile Diet movement. And Community Supported Agriculture (CSAs). And my greatest reassurance regarding the resilience of human beings: Cuba, a country that made the switch to self-sustenance in a remarkably short period of time, following the fall of the Soviet Union and the cutoff of agricultural subsidies and supplies. If they could do it, I believe, deep down, that Vancouverites will snare and eat the bunnies on Jericho Beach if we really really have to. I hear that, braised, bunny is very nice on a bed of kale.
Before I impale myself on my pen (vegetarian at heart) I should also note that the whole "have our cake and eat it too" attitude is something that naturally weathers away in the face of true adversity. For example, I have recently become aware of the "Slow Money" movement, springing (or should I say, plodding forth) from the Slow Food movement. In essence, we shall invest in food-producers with a lower rate of return than the conventional stock market buuuut with the satisfaction of knowing that our money is helping grow something real that will feed us in the event that Google goes down and plunges us into peasantry. Again.
He is continuing to speak out for those who can't speak for themselves: stoic, hard-working, long-suffering farmers who finally give up the fight, sell their land to developers, and move to a condo in Miami--or Victoria. He writes books of poetic prose about small farmers tending their land for past and present and future generations, and reads excerpts while showing slides of early morning misty potato fields.
I went to see Michael Ableman's presentation last week at the Centennial Theatre, mainly because I wanted to hear what someone who has made farm advocacy his full-time job had to say about the state of things. He is basically bearing witness to every small successful farmer he can find, and generating dialogue to support every food-growing enterprise in and outside the city. He advocates a list of recommendations society would follow if we actually valued agricultural production and wanted to make it a viable, profitable pursuit for up-and-comers. One suggestion is long-term land leases for willing hard-workers. He also frequently points out that "the farm is only as good as the farmer" and how important it is to pass on agricultural wisdom to the next generation. In the discussion afterwards, someone pointed out how land has become the latest "investment vehicle" rather than, again, being valued and stewarded for its fundamental food-producing capacity!
In all, I'm glad there's a community of smart people out there who are thinking about these things, coming up with "to do" lists and farming. Here on the West Coast, where milk and honey still (seem to) drip from trees, we exist in a bubble of abundance (perpetuated by the IOC) that relegates what is essentially a matter of survival (farming) to a quaint addition to our garden design schemes, or perhaps that lovely bohemian Saturday morning activity of shopping the local farmer's market with cappuccino in hand (I think I've just described my perfect day).
It's all good--it's just not enough. You know you're approaching self-reliance when you can't stand the sight of another bean or tomato or carrot or beet. We're still at the cappuccino level of food-production: it's our little treat for ourselves.
Meanwhile, the farmland we're really going to need when we really need it (?) is rapidly being big-boxed and condo-fied.
Alas, I am sooo guilty of loving the idea of farming. I attribute this to my inner indignant peasant, who finally transitioned to the merchant class, only to discover the urbane folk think peasantry is "in." I will not be duped back into the countryside to hoe the row! I spent my childhood peeling and pitting and canning and sweating and finally threw aside the mason jars for the delirium of flower-gardening. Imagine that: people who just want to grow flowers. Art takes precedence at last. Food? Bah! Let them eat cake.
This is a very bad attitude Ms. Antoinette, although I do eat a lot of cake (muffins, cookies, etc.). I do think I am making progress, however, because I do promote food gardening to some degree--however quaint--in my gardens. I think I like the "cottage-garden" idea, or perhaps the manor "kitchen-garden" concept, because it feels very urbane and swish to pluck morsels from one's garden to garnish one's life. Hmm. I think I may be on the verge of a functional shift.
Nevertheless, functional shifts are daunting. While attending talks given by charismatic mini-farmers such as Michael Ableman provide some sense of accomplishment (awareness is the first step!) actually doing something about our ravaged food system is...daunting.
Of course, we have the 100-Mile Diet movement. And Community Supported Agriculture (CSAs). And my greatest reassurance regarding the resilience of human beings: Cuba, a country that made the switch to self-sustenance in a remarkably short period of time, following the fall of the Soviet Union and the cutoff of agricultural subsidies and supplies. If they could do it, I believe, deep down, that Vancouverites will snare and eat the bunnies on Jericho Beach if we really really have to. I hear that, braised, bunny is very nice on a bed of kale.
Before I impale myself on my pen (vegetarian at heart) I should also note that the whole "have our cake and eat it too" attitude is something that naturally weathers away in the face of true adversity. For example, I have recently become aware of the "Slow Money" movement, springing (or should I say, plodding forth) from the Slow Food movement. In essence, we shall invest in food-producers with a lower rate of return than the conventional stock market buuuut with the satisfaction of knowing that our money is helping grow something real that will feed us in the event that Google goes down and plunges us into peasantry. Again.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Happy Fall
This doesn't even look real. But it is. This is Kathryn & Jim's garden today.
When trees turn colour, they suddenly look like they are floating. Like the next one here:
The yellow/coral tree is an ornamental cherry, and the white...is a Butterfly variegated Japanese maple. It looks whiter than usual. I think it's on the cusp of its autumn pinking. Thanks for sending in this pic, Dan & Deb.
And ah yes, here's my yacht-shot. And the dock I jump off in the summer.
And Rose's sumac, doing what it does best.
I really tried, recently, to get a picture of the profusion of jellyfish floating around by the shore, but they'd always drifted off by the time I got back with my camera. Camera-shy, I guess. If you steal the soul of a jelly-fish, there's not much left. They really are otherworldly--is this jelly-fish season? Apple-picking and jelly-fishing season.
Enjoy these last days of drifting through the coral sea of your gardens...
Friday, October 16, 2009
Gardening with a Paintbrush II
Finished in yesterday's monsoon! I started this one, inspired by a quote by Eduardo Galeano, a fearsome South American writer I've never read, save this quote:
"Deep root, lofty trunk, dense foliage: from the center of the world rises the thornless tree, one of those trees that knows how to give themselves to the birds. Around the tree whirl dancing couples, navel to navel, undulating to a music that wakens stones and sets fire to ice...The tree of life knows that whatever happens, the warm music spinning around it will never stop. However much death may come, however much blood may flow, the music will dance men and women as long as the air breathes them and the land plows and loves them." Eduardo Galeano
One Love I
This is a collage of tapestry fabric, quince leaves, acrylic gel medium, and acrylic paint on stretched canvas. I included the serpent to culture-jam the meaning of the "evil serpent"---the serpent is an ancient symbol of kundalini awakening and the divine knowledge in every human being. That changes the story a bit!
I added a "Fresh Paint" section to the sidebar so this remains on display 'til the next one!
Bless.
"Deep root, lofty trunk, dense foliage: from the center of the world rises the thornless tree, one of those trees that knows how to give themselves to the birds. Around the tree whirl dancing couples, navel to navel, undulating to a music that wakens stones and sets fire to ice...The tree of life knows that whatever happens, the warm music spinning around it will never stop. However much death may come, however much blood may flow, the music will dance men and women as long as the air breathes them and the land plows and loves them." Eduardo Galeano
One Love I
This is a collage of tapestry fabric, quince leaves, acrylic gel medium, and acrylic paint on stretched canvas. I included the serpent to culture-jam the meaning of the "evil serpent"---the serpent is an ancient symbol of kundalini awakening and the divine knowledge in every human being. That changes the story a bit!
I added a "Fresh Paint" section to the sidebar so this remains on display 'til the next one!
Bless.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Other Life Cycles Of Note
An appropriate outing for Thanksgiving weekend--because Wild Sockeye Salmon* is up there on the Thank-You List.
(*Salmon are not plants. I know. I digress. However, observe the algae on the rocks. It never used to be on the rocks in the Shuswap. I have now discussed an item of botanical significance.)
Below:
Adams River Sockeye Salmon, esqu., RIP: looking a little green around the gills.
And his wife, Ms. Rotty, RIP: in the advanced stages. My apologies to the squeamish.
The Adam's River Sockeye Salmon run is slim this year--the every-fourth-year big run is next year.
There was a huge local (and national--i.e., made national papers) controversy in the last couple years to try and stop development next to the park. The provincial government said it would purchase the adjacent lands but didn't, so the developer is going ahead with a massive high-density lagoon-type condominium/marina development. Everyone who knows anything about fish fry life cycles in river estuaries tried to stop it. The Shuswap Environmental Action Society http://www.seas.ca/ continues the good fight--Jim Cooperman has been active since I was in high school twenty years ago. O my that makes me feel ol--wise. Wizened.
Could be worse...
O, see below--there's the river mouth, and waaay across the lovely Big Shuswap there--that's where our family did a few generations of the pioneer thing. Basically, we've genetically evolved to climb hills.
So, another point being: I started out Back to the Land.
...Then I went downriver to the ocean...
...Maybe I'll hang out with all the fish in the sea (funny expression, that) for forty years or so...
...Then I'll buy a nice red winter coat, and I'll get this feeling...
Oh, for a gorgeous weekend for out-of-towners, stay at Quaaout Lodge on the Little Shuswap. Alas, it's gone all golfy, but still an amazing site/Shuswap Nation culture centre--totally reasonable prices. Walk through all the fall colours along the Adams, count fish. Breathe. One of many Sunday drives goes up the North Shuswap, through crafty coffee-shop territory. Lob dead fish over the plywood fence around aforementioned condo/marina development. Do this soon: fall colour prime time in next couple weeks.
(*Salmon are not plants. I know. I digress. However, observe the algae on the rocks. It never used to be on the rocks in the Shuswap. I have now discussed an item of botanical significance.)
Below:
Adams River Sockeye Salmon, esqu., RIP: looking a little green around the gills.
And his wife, Ms. Rotty, RIP: in the advanced stages. My apologies to the squeamish.
The Adam's River Sockeye Salmon run is slim this year--the every-fourth-year big run is next year.
There was a huge local (and national--i.e., made national papers) controversy in the last couple years to try and stop development next to the park. The provincial government said it would purchase the adjacent lands but didn't, so the developer is going ahead with a massive high-density lagoon-type condominium/marina development. Everyone who knows anything about fish fry life cycles in river estuaries tried to stop it. The Shuswap Environmental Action Society http://www.seas.ca/ continues the good fight--Jim Cooperman has been active since I was in high school twenty years ago. O my that makes me feel ol--wise. Wizened.
Could be worse...
O, see below--there's the river mouth, and waaay across the lovely Big Shuswap there--that's where our family did a few generations of the pioneer thing. Basically, we've genetically evolved to climb hills.
So, another point being: I started out Back to the Land.
...Then I went downriver to the ocean...
...Maybe I'll hang out with all the fish in the sea (funny expression, that) for forty years or so...
...Then I'll buy a nice red winter coat, and I'll get this feeling...
Oh, for a gorgeous weekend for out-of-towners, stay at Quaaout Lodge on the Little Shuswap. Alas, it's gone all golfy, but still an amazing site/Shuswap Nation culture centre--totally reasonable prices. Walk through all the fall colours along the Adams, count fish. Breathe. One of many Sunday drives goes up the North Shuswap, through crafty coffee-shop territory. Lob dead fish over the plywood fence around aforementioned condo/marina development. Do this soon: fall colour prime time in next couple weeks.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Get High on Colour
(Do other people do this, or just me?)
I don't think I'm alone...
3-D Rose Bomb comin in...
Are you feelin it yet??
Colour therapy. Just inhale.
_________________________________________________________
Garden credits (taken today and yesterday):
_________________________________________________________
Garden credits (taken today and yesterday):
1st photo: Deb & Dan's Miscanthus 'Morning Light', Echinacea 'Razzmatazz', Rudbeckia
2nd photo: John & Margot's Crimson Flag/Schizostylis & Asters
3rd&4th photos: Anne & Peter's Miscanthus & Dahlias w/Verbena bonariensis (little purple flowers on tall sticks) and my favourite Aster--'Monch' (little purple daisy-flowers spangling around randomly)
Monday, October 5, 2009
Park and Tilford Gardens
Thought I'd pirate some beauties from the public gardens, since the sun is still shining, the Datura's still blooming (sigh, that's what overwintering in a greenhouse will do for it! What a beauty.) This blossom is intoxicating and, unbeknownst to JJBean-imbibing customers in the vicinity, emanating mysterious powers only known to South American shamans. Shamen. Inhale if you dare.
Now I've finally got a photo of ...
...a relative of the common Burning Bush--Euonymous alata--but enormous, and bearing a lovely show of fruit-escences (my word for something that is half-way between a fruit and a flower) this time of year. So beautiful! Why don't we see this around more often? I want to plant them in my gardens!
And last of all, an electric combination of a red Abutilon (not hardy, sorry) and the famously invisible-until-its-berries-appear Callicarpa bodinieri. So beautiful. (Have I used "beautiful" too often in this entry?)
Thank-you, Park and Tilford Garden folk.
Glorious Day Count-Down??
Whether or not you are a bicycle-gardener, there is a certain morose contemplation that accompanies the decline of summery weather. (Photo above for dramatic effect.)
Oh, the freedom of cycling and gardening and roaming, unfettered by rain gear, tuques, and woolly socks!
Wait a second. At precisely the moment captured in time above, a whiff of distant mountain air scythed from the peaks into my valley-dwelling, lake-pondering brain. And in one instant, I Remembered Skiing.
So I Nikwaxed my raingear, bought a svelte little stainless steel thermos and a svelte little ear-covering fleecy hat that fits under a bike helmet, and I do believe I have successfully navigated my annual episode of Seasonal Transition Syndrome.
A little premature. We've got another week of glorious weather..
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