Category Archives: Great Work

Harvest Continues

Summer                                                             Moon of the First Harvests

Spent some time picking currants, stripping them off the branch reminded me of milking a cow.  This time our crop, a slender one, yielded around 4 cups.  This is hobby level horticulture for sure.  To pick a commercially successful crop of currants would be very time consuming.  In this case we’ll end up with one currant pie.

We have had wonderful cherry tarts from our two cherry trees and have some cherries frozen.  The plum crop, though large, has not yet produced an edible plum. Not sure what the deal is with them, more to learn.  Meanwhile the bagged apples are growing inside their ziplocs and the few I couldn’t reach on each tree look great, too.  Maybe the cold, wet spring fouled up the maggots.

The bees continuing working at their in and out pace, workers flying off in all directions seeking the nectar while the the nectar flow still runs.  Our six supers make the colony look like an entomologically designed high-rise apartment complex.  Thousands of inhabitants, food and nursery service included.

Kate brought in a tomato and a cucumber, our first of either of those.  They’ll be in a salad for lunch.

Flower and Leaf

Summer                                                               Moon of the First Harvests

A torpor always follows completion of a manuscript and it set in today.  It’s a sort of aimlessness, a nothing to do so what could I possibly do sort of feeling.  Yes there is a tension between doing and not doing and yes sometimes I fear that the doing is only a way to shove aside the great fear, the dread of dying.  And, further yes, sometimes I fear that I lean too far toward the doing and away from acceptance and that the torpor I describe only underscores it.

And it may be so.  It may be that I write, garden, learn Latin, get involved in politics and family only to push back the confrontation with my own non-being.  It may be so.

Or it may be that I do these things because they are my flower and leaf, that they are the what I am.  That is my belief.  In doing these things I do what a lily does when it pushes up from its corm, strikes a thick green blade through the earth, gets to sunlight and puts on leaves and flowers.  I am this variety of human.  In this sense those things I do are not avoidance, but completion.

This time between creative efforts becomes a fallow time like the fall and winter months, a time to gather in energy and prepare for the next growing season.  Perhaps lilies, after the flower has bloomed, the seeds are made and leaf and stalk have died back wonder, too, what is my purpose now? I am not what I can be, so am I avoiding my end?  No says the older, wiser lily.  Not at all.  Now is when you become stronger, able to support more flowering.  We do not end, this older lily might say, but develop in such a way that others follow after us.  May it be so.

A Trip Into The City

Summer                                                             Moon of the First Harvests

When I picked up our rug from American Rug Laundry, the guy said he couldn’t believe how much dirt he got out of it.  I told him, but I’m not sure it registered, that our dogs really, really like this rug.  All of them.  And they come in and lie down on it.  Roll on it.  Transfer the sand from the Great Anoka Sand Plain to it, deep in its fiber.  As he now knows.  Not many folks let dogs on their multiple thousands of dollars oriental rugs, I imagine.

(this rug.  with favorite dog objects.  the one to the far right is a stuffed squirrel.  a big hit.)

On the same trip I took a baby quilt in to Margaret Levin.  She’s due sometime in the next couple of weeks.  Says a lot about our society that she’s in her last term of pregnancy and still running the Northstar Chapter of the Sierra Club.  Kate makes lots of baby quilts. This one used cloth made from our neighbor’s mother’s stash.  When she died, it fell to Pam who gave it to Kate.  This particular cloth was from the 1930’s.

We talked about politics, of course.  That was my entré to the Sierra Club and what I did with them for 5 years or so.  I asked her if she has the same sense I do that a cultural shift has begun on global warming.  A positive one.  She said yes, but she also said the movement thought one was happening in the 1970’s, too.  Still, you add in a Democratic President and Senate, plus the changing demographics of the U.S. population and there could be real grounds for optimism.  Whether such a shift would happen soon enough to matter? Hard to tell.

Stopped by the Northern Clay Center as well.  It’s only a block from the Sierra Club. There are a lot of able potters represented there.  I’m in the market for another tea pot since I plan to return to brewing tea from tea leaves rather than tea bags when I start Loki’s Children.  A reward for finishing the third revision.  Didn’t find anything.  I plan to look on Sunday at a large pottery show, but if I don’t find anything I’ll head up to St. John’s and Richard Bresnahan.  I’ve wanted one of his teapots for some time.

 

 

Cherry picking low hanging fruit

Summer                                                                      Moon of First Harvests

Cherry picking.  This morning.  Blueberry picking, too.  Also pears from two trees, their entire crop.  First, the low hanging fruit, then up the ladder.  A lot of cliches come from the world of the orchard and the garden.  Let’s wait til it bears fruit.  He planted the seed on fertile ground.   In the not so very long ago, maybe one or two generations, perhaps three depending on your age these sayings were not culture; rather, they were everyday experience, or, every appropriate season occurrence.  Now, with increasing urbanization, the rapid decline of the family farm and a rush to do all things with technology the hand in the tree which picked the cherries is on the keyboard checking Facebook or more likely on the iPhone checking Snapchat.

Delivering vast numbers from the mind numbing toil of subsistence agriculture is a good thing.  No doubting that.  Even having agriculture and horticulture done by the few is not necessarily a bad thing.  We need food and flowers.  If they come to our table full of nutrients and vibrant, well then.  If however, we create a system where the food we eat has been modified not for its nutritional value but for the positive economics of its growing, harvesting and processing, well then.

Somewhere a tectonic plate of public opinion has begun to shift.  I can feel it in the newspapers, the magazines, the websites I read and visit.  That shift is toward action against global warming.  My hope is that this shift, which will ride over the continent of fossil fuel and through subduction bury it in the mantle below the crust where it belongs, will include within it a return to the tree, the wolf, the tomato and the onion.  May it be so.

 

The Land

Summer                                                              Moon of the First Harvests

One with the land.  A cliche perhaps, though little used today.  I hope it has again some of the powerful connotation it had long ago.

On a fine cool morning like this one, not even really cool, 68, to step outside with tools in hand, tools for working with plants, and feel the morning air surround you, to see the plants green and the flowers vibrant, to step into the vegetable garden and see tomato blossoms, fruit, eggplant fruit, cucumbers vining up the bamboo, the carrot’s feathery leaves, the brave leeks tall and proud and to know, know in the biblical sense, that is, to have direct sensory knowledge unmediated by book or story, but present and available, that you and those plants share the workload.  To know further that the bees buzzing and dipping into the flowers are likewise colleagues, not just insects, but partners.  Yes, I know it’s overwritten, sorry about that, but it hits the feeling tone I want to convey.  Over the top.  Not overwhelming, maybe, but certainly whelming.  Intimate.  Holistic.

It’s a feeling, come to think of it, or come to feel it might be better, that synchs up with the mystical moment I had back long ago in college.  I’ve written about it here before so just a synopsis.  After a philosophy class I experienced a sudden moment of integration with the whole, with everything, with the cosmic.  I was in it and of it, as it was in me and of me.  This feeling I have, this oneness with this land, this particular place, is a discrete yet parallel feeling.  I am in this land and of it, as it is in me and of me.

The Arc of Summer Begins to Bend Toward Fall

Summer                                                            Moon of the First Harvests

A light rain falling as I went out this morning.  The garden continues to look strong, the tomatoes are about to enter their bearing and ripening phase, maybe a week, maybe a little more, then Kate will have the stove filled with canning and the counters with canning equipment.  Later on the raspberries, which is a bulk harvest, too, and the leeks, even later, will also be a bulk harvest.  Around the time the leeks are ready, the apples should begin to ripen.

I’m especially pleased with my new lilies from the Northstar Lily society:  the dark purple, the trumpet of white with yellow, the cream colored vase shaped, bright yellows and pinks. Their colors are vibrant.  They pulsate.  Mid-July is my favorite flower season.  Well, mid-July and early spring.  I also love the spring ephemerals.  The rest I enjoy, but these flowers make my flower growing season.

Sprayed again this morning, this one an oil based spray to strengthen the plants against insects.  It does seem to be the case, with the exception of the beets and the cabbage that insect predation is down from years past.  This has been such an odd year, especially compared to last year–hot and dry, that it’s a little hard to generalize.  It does seem to be the case that stronger plants equal better insect control, by the plant.

While the Woollies were here, I commented on the amount of money we’ve put in the outdoors.  Initially, the landscaping by Otten Brothers.  Then clearing the land for the vegetable and orchard areas. (cost here mostly stump grinding and renting the industrial strength wood-chipper.) The raised beds.  Then the ecological gardens work with the orchard and some in the vegetable garden.  Fences around the orchard and the vegetable garden and the whole property.  Irrigation zones.  The fire pit.  Mulching the orchard and the vegetable garden.  Bulbs in the fall for many years.  We’re raising expensive tomatoes.

But, this kind of accounting leaves out the most significant parts of all this work.  It keeps us outside, using our bodies.  The whole grounds are a joint effort, in work, planning, and hiring.  It also allows us to produce a good part of our vegetables at quality we effect and flowers for our tables.  Fruits, too.

Best of all it keeps us focused on the rhythms of the earth.  Winter puts the garden to sleep and relieves us of its care (for the most part).  Spring sees our fall bulb planting rewarded and our earliest vegetables planted.  Summer finds us intensely involved with weeding, thinning, managing the various crops for the year.  Fall finishes the harvest and brings senescence.

 

High Brix Gardens

Summer                                                                          Moon of the First Harvests

I’m almost one and a half months into the  International Ag Labs supplement program called High Brix Gardens.  This morning I sprayed a product for general plant health, fish oil, mainly.  When I look at the tomatoes, eggplants, tomatillos, peppers, carrots and beets, I see healthy, vigorous plants with lots of fruit or roots.  The healthy, vigorous look seems to have come from the supplements.

Over the weekend I’m going to use friend Bill Schmidt’s refractometer to measure the brix value of fruits and vegetables from our garden and orchard.  “When used on plant sap it is primarily a measure of the carbohydrate level in plant juices.”

“…mineral composition is not the only component of nutrition to be found in plants. It is the cheapest to analyze and is the foundation of al the other nutritional components of plants such as vitamins, amino acid profile, enzymes, sterols, and essential oils among many others. Since all these components contribute to the total dissolved solids we use the brix readings as the general indicator of quality and the mineral composition as the specific indicators of quality.”  High Brix Gardens

 

Lilies, Leeks and Lumber

Summer                                                       First Harvest Moon

Today, again, harvesting trees.  This time black locust, a thorny tree that grows fast and germinates easily.  In olden days fence posts, foundation posts, anything requiring a sturdy rot-resistant wood were common uses of the black locust.  This tree will get used as firewood for the great Woolly ingathering here on Monday.

Other hardwood trees like oak, in particular, but ash and maple and others as well, require a year or two of drying to get their moisture content below 20%.  Black locust is a low moisture wood even when it’s alive.

In felling this tree my directional cut was at a slight angle and the tree came down on our vegetable garden fence.  But.  Fortuna was with me.  The main branch that hit the fence landed right on top of a fence post, square cedar. It didn’t mind at all.  May have sunk a bit lower in the earth. A slight dent in the gate where a smaller top branch made impact, otherwise, the fence came through fine.  Whew.  Felling trees is art as well as science and I mishandled this one.

Early this morning I sprayed Enthuse, a product to generally spiff plants, give them an energy boost.  That was over all the vegetables and the blooming lilies.  The lilies are my favorite flowers by far and almost all of the varieties that I have I purchased at the North Star lily sale last spring.  These are lilies grown here, hardy for our winters.  Here are pictures of the current state of the gardens and preparations for the Woolly homecoming.

Pruning the Woods

Summer                                                              First Harvest Moon

Felled an oak today, about 8 inches thick.  It was too close to other oaks, competing with them.  As I build up our firewood supply, I also think about pruning the forest, trying to put into practice advice given to me years ago by a member of the DNR’s forestry team.  It has taken about 18 years to get started; I don’t like to rush into things.

Every time I use a chainsaw it takes me back to the not-so Peaceable Kingdom.  That was my first and most all-in back to the land moment.  I gave up urban life, a good job and seminary to move onto the 80 acre farm Judy and I bought.  You know the story, she leaves for good shortly after I get there.

That left with me a woodburning stove for heating and one for cooking, so I had to have firewood.  On our 80 there was a small forest, larger than the one out here with plenty of firewood ready for harvest.  I’d put my Jonsered in the bed of my green International Harvester pick-up, drive into the woods, cut down a tree or two, cut them up, toss them in  the truck, then head back to the house.

I stacked the wood there, unless it was dry already.  If it was dry, I’d start splitting it for use right away.  The stuff that wasn’t dry waited until deep winter when the cold would do some of the work.

The wood cutting and using the wood stoves were highlights of that time, a modest form of self-sufficiency, off the grid as far as fuel oil went.

The muscle memory lingers and pops into play every time I yank the starter cord.  Good memories.

Whole

Summer                                                                   First Harvest Moon

Without the Latin I’ve had considerable time to focus on revising Missing.  I’m finding the rhythm of garden work and writing very satisfying.  I can work outside in the earlier morning, then revise until lunch, and pick up the revising again after lunch and until I work out.  This means a steady pace, one that leaves me feeling whole at the end of the day.

Feeling whole means that I’ve kept up with my commitments.

There’s a part of me that feels bad about letting the Latin lie, I’ve put so much energy into it up to now, but the feeling of wholeness I’m gaining suggests I had spread myself too thin.  It may be that I’ll work on the Latin only after garden work falls away sometime in September, then drop it again in May.  I like to adjust my life to the seasons and that would be another way to do it.