Category Archives: Garden

When the Frost Is On the Pumpkins and the Fodder’s in the Shock

Lugnasa                                                                   Harvest Moon

mother11Palisade, Colorado has had a bumper peach harvest. There is a small area on the Western Slope that has an ideal peach growing microclimate. They have other crops, too: lavender, apples, sweet corn, strawberries and vegetables. The newspapers have carried photo spreads of workers in the orchards with peach baskets gently picking and placing the delicate fruit into baskets. Back in Andover, this time of year, the honey harvest would be in, the raspberries just beginning. I would be out planting garlic and pulling the last plantings of carrots, beets, leeks and onions. This is the peak harvest season, when the land and its workers combine to feed millions, even billions of people.

Sitting up here on Shadow Mountain, with a heavy mist slowly creeping down the face of Black Mountain, the harvest season has little sway. A few folks have gardens, true, but there is no large commercial agriculture. The cattle company that raises grass fed beef, for example, has five cows, four angus and one hereford, grazing in a mountain meadow about half way down Shadow Mountain.

2010 10 04_0347Being so far removed from farms and large truck gardens feels strange to this former Midwestern lifer. No more so than in this long harvest season. Corn pickers and combines have begun to roll through fields. The state fairs have swept up 4-H’er raised cattle, pigs, sheep, chickens. The vegetable harvest has peaked. Self pick apple orchards have hayrides and cider stations set out. Not there, though.

In the mountains this season sees the first glints of gold across the evergreen forests of lodgepole pine. The aspen begin to turn. The nights cool down. Canadian blue skies dominate our days.

20151104_101553Labor Day does mark the winding down of one season long harvest up here: tourist dollars from Denver folks. July and August are the heaviest tourist months for our favorite mountain town, Evergreen. We’re not a winter tourist destination, at least not like the ski resorts, so the roads will have less traffic and fewer visitors in Evergreen’s restaurants.

Soon it will be time to start splitting the logs I cut last fall in the first round of fire mitigation. Takes about a year for pine to season. The remaining logs in the back will be seasoned next spring. Log splitting is a seasonal activity both here and in the Midwest. Looking forward to it.

Among the Wild Flax

Summer                                                                  Park County Fair Moon

wild flax
wild flax

Conifer is big and diverse. I drove 20 minutes from home this morning to Reynolds Park, a Jefferson County Open Space Park. It’s still in Conifer, nestled in a canyon, filled with Ponderosa pines, creeks, forested hills and plenty of montane ecosystem plants.

The Native Plant Master class held there ran from 8:30 to 12:30, a long time in the heat. At least for me. By the time the morning was over I was hurting. That arthritic knee, right hip and lower back crying out for surcease. No more plants, please! Lay us down, right now. Frustrating because the information in this class is germane to our home on Black Mountain Drive.

We found the Harebell, a wild geranium, three different grasses including Timothy and Broomtail, keyed out a Ponderosa and an Aspen and a Rocky Mountain Maple. There were two members of the Sunflower family: Rudbeckia-the black eyed daisy and a flower with multiple white petals whose name I can’t recall. A native bee crawled into a Penstemon, gracilis, getting pollen on its back in the process, nototribic. We visited a wild Flax with delicate blue flowers.

Two more classes yet to go. Right now, I’m looking forward to the information but not the wandering pedagogy.

Getting Back To Work

Summer                                                                  Park County Fair Moon

ballgameSummer has come in full glory and I’m still not back to work. Getting frustrated with myself, need to get a discipline underway. Back to the work in the morning pattern that has seen me through several novels and lots of Ovid.

It is now a year and a day since my cancer surgery, a real spade turner in the soil of my psyche. Are my old goals still appropriate? Does the divorce and the engagement with Jon and the grandkids override them? Doesn’t feel that way. My ability to give correlates with the care I take of myself. Taking care of myself means continuing creative and scholarly tasks. That work plus exercise are central to my life and cannot be avoided without damaging my Self.

computerRight now the days float by. This meeting with Jon. That power washing of the solar array. Mow the fuel. Reorganize the loft. Work in the garage. Read the NYT. Keep up with the presidential campaign. All of these things are important, even necessary, but I’m doing them and not creating the daily discipline that longer projects require. I know how to do it. I have done it. But not now.

This morning I have my first class in a Native Plant class that focuses on the montane ecosystem, the one in which we live. It’s a start in the discipline. What I need is to protect my mornings again. Get up here in the loft, write a thousand words a day, translate at 5 verses of Ovid.

I need encouragement to get this routine started again.

Summer Solstice 2016

Summer                                                                     Moon of the Summer Solstice

redagainstwhite cropped
Fairplay, South Park

Light to dark. A continuum and a dialectic. Our inner lives fall, always, somewhere along this line. Our life might be bright, cheery, goals and actions easy to see, our days bouncy and their weight upon us like a feather. Or, our lives might be dark, intense, solemn, our next moves difficult to imagine, our days heavy, weighing upon us like a great rock.

But the Great Wheel shows us a yet deeper truth. Light to dark and dark back to light is the way of life on this earth. In the temperate latitudes this truth is at its most nuanced and its most fruitful. Quite literally. In temperate latitudes, as the Solstices mark out, we go from the Summer victory of light to the Winter victory of darkness.

Though darkness seems to be the dialectical opposite of light-winter the antithesis of summer-in fact darkness gives plant life a time to rest, rejuvenate, prepare for the rigors of another growing season. The light, when it begins to bear down upon the fields and forests, encourages and feeds them, preparing them for the harvest. In the places where the seasons are more extreme, like the tropics where daylight remains equal to night all year round and at the poles where night and day extend for months exuberant plant life can overtake whole regions. Or, at the poles ice can become so thick and vast that it covers hundreds, thousands, of square miles.

The Summer Solstice and the Winter Solstice then are not opposed to each other. The transitions from light to dark and dark to light for which they are the zenith are necessary engines for the well-being of all of us who call this planet home.

Thus we might consider the transitions from light to dark in our psyche, in our soul, as variations necessary for a full and rich life. Of course we need the sunshine of children, of love, of hope, of success. The times in our lives when those can dominate are like the summer, the growing season. Yet, grief and failure are part of our soul’s turning, part of our reaction to and integration of life’s darkness. Also, those practices which can take us deep into our inner life are like the fallow times of fall and winter providing rest and rejuvenation to us.

Today we celebrate the solar equivalent of our live’s growing season. Mark out those matters in your life that flourish, that bring joy and love, that encourage your fulfillment. But, know as well that even events like divorce, like the death of a loved one, like the failure of a dream can enrich the soil of your life, must enrich the soil of your life or else we pretend that the Great Wheel does not turn, but rather stops and becomes one season, to the eventual death of all we know.

The Summer Solstice begins the gradual victory of dark over light, the one we celebrate at the Winter Solstice. Light and dark are not opposite, but parts of a whole, parts of your soul and its ancientrail toward death.

 

Work Around the House

Beltane                                                                        Moon of the Summer Solstice

Low solar efficiency in April
Low solar efficiency in April

Actions have consequences. Putting up the solar panels means we have to pay attention to those things that impair our efficiency. Last month’s electric bill was $10.28, but pine pollen has coated the panels again and is reducing production. No rain forecast, so I’m going to get up on the roof with a hose (what could go wrong?) and wash them off myself.

The rains of the past few weeks have also grown a nice crop of fuel in the back so Kate’s going to take to the lawn mower. We have to keep the fuel mown down to less than 6″. Kate’s also been prettying up the garden beds around the house, satisfying her dig in the soil and make things grow need. Looks nice.

Finding a contractor to wash and reseal the wood siding for the garage and the shed is a next task. Bids. Something I want to get done before the summer is over. And the garage itself needs clearing out, as I’ve mentioned.

Rigel had two teeth pulled yesterday during a dental visit to Sano hospital. She’s doing well this morning although last night she woke Kate up with her barking.

Kep’s Last Visit to Award Winning Pet Grooming

Beltane                                                               Running Creeks Moon

ellipticalNo lumberjacking today. This old body needed time to recoup. Back at it tomorrow.

The elliptical we bought has spared my knee the throbbing and swelling of high intensity workouts on the treadmill. I can now do the same workout, but in a fluid, joint friendly motion. The old P90X workouts help round out the return to serious muscle and cardio-vascular exercise.

KepTook Kep over to Award Winning Pet Grooming in Bailey. Bailey is to the west on Highway 285. It’s the big city in Park County at 8, 859 souls. Amanda Gordon has defurred Kep several times as the alternating hotter and colder weather of this year’s El Nino winter has caused dogs all over the front range to blow their coats. This was probably Kep’s last visit to Award Winning since he will head to Georgia, early July. Kate and I both will go.

Kate’s been gardening today. She’s wanted to do some, finally decided to just do it. Her friend Hannah and her husband Seth ate lunch with Kate. They cleared out most of the logs in the front. There are about twice as many in the back, maybe 3 times as many.

A Taxi to Nirvana rather than a Stairway to Heaven

Spring                                             Wedding Moon

Off to Nirvana with Hameed this morning. Nirvana is a huge columbarium that has intrigued ever since my sister sent me the link. And, besides, if I can get to Nirvana for the price of a taxi drive, why not?

We’ll go on about 10 minutes further to Skygreens, a vertical farm. Some evolution of this idea may well be the farm of the urban future and both Kate and I find it an interesting idea.

We’ve hired Hameed by the hour, $30 Singapore, about $22 U.S. I’ll let you know how Nirvana was when we get back. I think that’s what bodhisattvas do, so both Kate and I will accept the honorific when we return to the mountains.

Somewhat cooler today. But, only relative to 92 feels 102. So…

Have I mentioned that it’s hot here?

Living in the present, surrounded by the past

Spring                                                         Wedding Moon

Ellis and Jang
Ellis and Jang (Mary’s photo)

Yesterday we took a trip to the past. To Seoah’s family home and the village of the Jang family for at least four generations. The neighbor women sat at a low table eating from dishes and dishes of food. They looked up curiously as we came in the small traditional house, then went back to their meal.

(Kate took all the rest of these photos.)kids

The house had little furniture, mostly low tables and one chair, a massaging recliner that Mary (my sister) says is common in Singaporean households. Often the only chair in the house.

We met many black-haired children who ran around, curious and a little uncertain, Seoah’s two sisters and her older brother. Seungpil, husband of her younger sister, has been our taxi driver in a sleek, well-maintained black Hyundai, a Grandeur.

finding conifer
finding conifer

Seoah’s mother had charge of a compliment of women in the kitchen which had food plates and bowls and pans on all of its surfaces. Her father, a trim man, 71 moved with the grace of a 30 year old. He farms a large number of plots, some vinyl greenhouses, a rice paddie and several fields. I asked to see it and we walked around it all.

He proudly pointed to a tractor and said, in clear English, “John Deere!” He had a combine, a grain drier and a second Massey-Ferguson, older. He grows vegetables, hay and some fruit. Like any good farmer in the spring, after we left his home for the Bamboo Museum, he headed back into the fields.

john deere

Seoah’s home village nestles among low mountains that look (and probably are) ancient. They’re very beautiful, often mist covered and extending in ranges for some ways. Sangkuk is well beyond the metro region of Gwangju, in the country. As nearly as I could tell, the area around Sangkuk is only agricultural, no folks living the country life and commuting into the city.

fields and tombs
Jang family fields. Note tombs in forest clearing toward the right

 

Having a Moment

Lughnasa                                                            Labor Day Moon

I’m having a moment. It’s immediate stimulus has been reading How Forests Think, by Eduardo Kohn. Kohn is an anthropologist who has done significant field work in el Oriente, the east of Ecuador where the Andes go down into the tropical rain forests of the Amazon drainage. But this book is something else. Though it draws on his field work with the Runa, its focus is the nature of anthropology as a discipline and, more broadly, how humans fit into the larger world of plants and animals.

Thomas Berry’s little book, The Great Work, influenced a change in my political work from economic justice to environmental politics. Berry said that the great work for our time is creating a sustainable human presence on the earth. In 2008 I began working on the political committee of the Sierra Club with an intent to do my part in an arena I know well. I continued at the Sierra Club until January of 2014 until I resigned, mostly to avoid winter driving into the Twin Cities.

Since then, I’ve been struggling with how I can contribute to the great work. Our garden and the bees were effective, furthering the idea of becoming native to this place. The move to Colorado though has xed them out.

Kohn’s book has helped me see a different contribution I can make. Political work is mostly tactical, dealing in change in the here and now or the near future. In the instance of climate change, tactical work is critical for not only the near future but for the distant future as well. I’ve kept my head down and feet moving forward on the tactical front for a long, long time.

There are though other elements to creating a sustainable human presence on the earth. A key one is imagining what that human presence might be like. Not imagining a world of Teslas and Volts, renewable energy, local farming, water conservation, reduced carbon emissions, though all those are important tactical steps toward that presence; but, reimagining what it means to be human in a sustainable relationship with the earth.

Kohn is reimagining what being human is. His reimagining is a brilliant attempt to reframe who thinks, how they think and how all sentience fits together. He’s not the only one attempting to do this. The movement is loosely called post-humanist, removing humans from the center of the conceptual universe.  A posthuman world would be analogous to the solar system after Galileo and Copernicus removed the earth from the center. Humans, like the earth, would still exist, but their location within the larger order will have shifted significantly.

This fits in so well with my reimagining faith project. It also fits with some economic reimagining I’ve been reading about focused on eudaimonia, human flourishing. It also reminds me of a moment I’ve recounted before, the Iroquois medicine man, a man in a 700 year lineage of medicine men, speaking at the end of a conference on liberation theology. The time was 1974. He prayed over the planting of a small pine tree, a symbol of peace among the tribes of the Iroquois confederacy because those tribes put their weapons in a hole, then planted a pine tree over them.

His prayer was first to the winged ones, then the four-leggeds and those who swim and those who go on water and land, the prayer went on asking for the health and well-being of every living thing. Except the two-leggeds. I noticed this and went up to him after the ceremony and asked him why he hadn’t mention the two-leggeds. “Because,” he said, “we two-leggeds are so fragile. Our lives depend on the health of all the others, so we pray for them. If the rest are healthy, then we will be, too.”

Reimagine faith in a manner consistent with that vision. Reimagine faith in a post-humanist world. Reimagine faith from within and among rather than without and above. This is work I can do. Work my library is already fitted to do. Work I’ve felt in my gut since an evening on Lake Huron, long ago, when the sun set so magnificently that I felt pulled into the world around me, became part of it for a moment. Work that moment I’ve mentioned before when I felt aligned with everything in the universe, that mystical moment, has prepared me for. Yes, work I can do. Here on Shadow Mountain.

 

 

 

Family Plots

Beltane                                                                 Healing Moon

A new seasonal event. Pine pollen gathers on the black surface of our driveway leaving yellow rings where water gathers in the driveway’s low spots. Sweep your hand across a piece of our Stickley furniture, palms and fingers come up yellow. We have only cross ventilation for cooling. Shake a branch of the ponderosa and a yellow cloud fills the air. All about sex of course. No wonder it’s beautiful.

Into Denver last night to check on Jon’s garden. Jon, Jen, Ruth and Gabe are in Chicago for father’s day, visiting Jen’s grandfather and grandmother, both great-grandparents. Her grandfather is 96 or so and his wife around the same age. Barb, Jen’s mom, flew out because her mom fell and broke a hip. She’s headed to a nursing home. error correction: Kate says Barb’s mother has a hair line fracture of the pelvis.

Jon grows quite a garden. He has grapes and currants, potatoes and herbs, tomatoes and carrots, peppers, strawberries and onions. Being a gardener of the arid west he has a drip irrigation system which delivers small bursts of water, around two minutes worth, to each plant via a plastic line connected to a small plastic stake with a watering head. Before they left he positioned garden furniture over his more delicate plants because hail can be a problem.

My job is to make sure the irrigation system works, then to make sure that none of the watering heads malfunction and finally to watch plants that might wilt in the heat. There are two main concerns, one is for the health of the plants, but the second is to make the sprinkler system doesn’t send them into another tier of water pricing by running too long. Colorado is not California, but water, especially municipal water, is still a precious resource and priced accordingly.