Friday the 13th
April 13, 2012 § 1 Comment
All day has been overcast, with a few steady soft hours of rain and now the insistent wind howling outside the house. I’m sitting in front of the wood stove with a tall mug of coffee and a bag of chocolate chips. And A Severe Mercy beside me, which is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read, and a comforting place to go at the end of a day.
Yesterday I worked most of the day outside, me and my red truck and my shovel. I have a plan for a small hill all run a-muck out here, and yesterday the paper-planning found its way into action. Beauty and health come through hard work sometimes, just as they seem to come effortlessly other times. Anyway, I will do my part here. The feeling you get, settling down onto the couch with a cup of coffee or a glass of water, after hours of physical work – there is nothing else like it.
This afternoon I did nuts-and-bolts tasks, a bit of organizing, and then I found myself at an art event in little Amery, WI. I’m so pleased to say there is a talented and vibrant group of artists coming together here, and I met some quite lovely people while browsing watercolor cranes, clay pots, and prints of draft horses. We had asparagus wrapped in fillo dough with a touch of oil and lemon, and of course the wine was circulating. A few jars of pickles and jam were for sale beside handcrafted cards. The feel in these places is active, and awake. It seems to me that so many creatives have an intentionality about seeing the world. Even, perhaps, if they don’t know it.
Friday night. I am happy to be here with my book, and my plans, and my determination to keep my eyes open.
Bloodroot
April 11, 2012 § Leave a comment
A remarkable little flower. It lives in the woods near my new white farmhouse home. Read more about the lore and uses of bloodroot here.
50 Dispatches
April 11, 2012 § Leave a comment
“Your hands are going to bleed.”
Anne Cure, owner of Cure Organic Farm in Boulder, Colorado, said this softly while looking off into the distance as Jack, one of the other farmers, described the day’s task of transplanting thousands of seedlings from the greenhouse into the field. The “bleeding hands” comment was not ill-natured in any way; it was merely a statement of fact, one learned through many springs of transplanting thousands of seedlings into the field. This was the acknowledgment that today the fields were going to be especially tough to plant. It would be a painful process for a new farmer’s hands.
This is an excerpt of an essay featured in The Atlantic from the Greenhorns’ new book.
And it makes sort of warmly proud and glad for a couple of reasons:
1. I had the privilege of preparing and serving farm dinners at Anne Cure’s farm two summers ago – her smiling face is a familiar one!
2. I also sort of know Jeff, the author of this particular essay, as he had dinner with us on occasion, and he ended up dating my friend and co-worker. AND he’s from Iowa.
3. I’m just excited about what the Greenhorns are doing here. I love the idea of this book. Sharing stories of enthusiasm, passion, pain, discovery, purpose. And dirt. No – better word – soil. I wanted to contribute when they sent out their call for essays, but I wasn’t farming at the time, and they requested words from farmers. That’s all right. I’ve got my own farm and book plans. For now, I’m happy to read others. Hooray, everyone!
Good things are happening.
On a walk
April 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
“Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.” -Wallace Stevens
Deux poissons
April 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
Photo Credit: US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration
Good old-fashioned marketing
April 4, 2012 § 2 Comments
This sign is from Sol y Sombra Farm, where I worked from June to November last year. Isn’t there something perfectly nice about a wooden hand-painted sign propped out along a fence in front of the farm? There’s a touch of humanity in it; someone here made this and wants you to know what they have here for you. And on a farm, those can be very good things. To see some of last year’s harvest, have a look here.
Sol y Sombra is a CSA in Boulder County, with a lot happening on a few acres. I’m thinking about Allison and her new crew at Sol y Sombra, as flowers, veggies, and herbs just start to become available. Wishing you all well!
On prairie
April 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
Jump on over to The Prairie Ecologist to read a guest essay by Doug Ladd, Director of Conservation Science for the Nature Conservancy of Missouri. Here’s an excerpt from his essay, reprinted there, entitled “Why Prairie Matters”:
To visit a prairie is to be immersed in the result of thousands of generations of competition and natural selection resulting in a dynamic array of diversity, which, collectively, is supremely attuned to this uniquely midcontinental landscape.
Here flourish long-lived, deep-rooted perennial plants annealed by the frequent Native American fires, searing summer droughts, frigid winters, episodes of intensive grazing and trampling, and rapid, recurrent freeze-thaw cycles that exemplify the Midwest. These plants in all their varied magnificence in turn support myriad animals ranging from minute prairie leafhoppers that spend their entire lives in a few square meters to wide-ranging mammals and birds that travel hundreds or even thousands of miles in a season.
Prairie matters beyond the prairies themselves.
(Read on! Read on. We must be thinking about these things. And then, hopefully, carefully, acting.)
Woodland, farmland, and our new home
April 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
The buds keep coming forth. The leaves brush around my feet. The dogs rush back and forth, sniffing branches, finding animal carcasses, carrying sticks around with personal pride. The sunlight flickers through the trees and falls into patterns on the ground like a kind of intangible lace.
We walk in the woods, now that we have left Colorado behind, left Iowa behind, and settled in Wisconsin to help in the building of a dream. The restoration of a place. Suddenly I have a job in the rural Upper Midwest, where I’ll be reaching out to community, planning events and workshops, and fostering the wonderful oneness of sustainable agriculture and habitat restoration. I find myself thinking, often, Is this a dream? Luck, perhaps? It is something, anyhow, that ought to be meandered through with consciousness and purpose. Yes, and gratitude.
Go to nature
April 1, 2012 § 1 Comment
I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order. -John Burroughs
Birds on a screen
March 26, 2012 § Leave a comment
At the Minneapolis Institute of Art. Not sure why I like it so much, but I do. The gray-on-gray. The sense of movement. There is at once a feeling of life’s spark and of calm.
Kinds of Honey 