agrarian

Sage Advice

It hailed today and luckily the tomatoes that I planted out were covered by the hoophouse I built around them. I learned my lesson last year, and in years before: never trust nature to do what you want it to do. I know that I will learn this lesson many times to come, but the lesson never comes easy.

The hops were troopers; I believe that they are the marines of the plant world: nothing phases them. The rhubarb was sheltered by the large bank of bushes, and most of the seeds planted out last week have not come up. I hop the newly peeking asparagus shoots are OK.

The bees finally had a time of it on their cleansing flights after so much grey rainy weather that we’ve been having; that is, before the hail set in. I had put out a swarm capture box as I was having an inkling that there was a swarm around that had been trying to get into one of the hives. They had had no luck, and so I put the box out, wondering if they’d be interested. I think they were, but it’s too early to tell.

Lots of hard work in the garden these days for all of us. It’s not nature that is a taskmaster as she simply doesn’t care. It is the hopes and dreams of canning tomatoes, making salsa and rhubarb jam, freezing kale, brewing beer, making apple sauce, putting up pickles and beets, juicing plums and crabapples, picking fresh carrots and digging up potatoes. It is pesto with your own basil and tea with your own honey. It is all of these things and more.

This time of year is both hopeful and hellish; everything seems so fragile and yet so much is riding on it. This time of year is the start of catching up. Farmers and gardeners alike play “catch-up” from now on out. The weeds will come, wasps will attack the bees and plants will die. It’s all out there in the mysterious future as are the hopes and dreams of those who try to understand the soil and the plants that come out of it.

As I said it hailed tonight and probably took out a lot of folk’s work. I can almost hear the profanity even if we did need the moisture. There is more where that came from. We all know it. Buddha supposedly said, of nirvana: figure it out yourself. I think that such advice is sage (good in sausage and olive oil for dipping bread). And so, I hope that we all figure it out. But for now, I’m off on an adventure of my own, and wish you all the best that your hard work will offer on yours.

Why?

Two year old’s ask it all of the time, and we (as adults) often dismiss the question: why? You are asked: “What do you do?” but how many times are you asked: “Why do you do what you do?” To answer that question would take some thought, and would probably open us up to thoughts that we might not want to consider.

For those of us striving to live an environmentally sound life, the question can be uncomfortable. Why do I keep bees, have a large garden, collect water, compost grass and food scraps, save seeds, use no pesticides or herbicides, can and forage food, recycle wood for the projects around the place? Why do I want to do more?

Answers begin to bubble up if we think long enough about what we do. Often when we explain those answers to others, they come across as ideological and sometimes self-righteous, sometimes we just don’t know. We become accustomed to the “glazed” look after a minute, and we realize that the answer has become rambling, incoherent or that the question was only asked out of feigned politeness.

Answers range from philosophical to utilitarian, from selfish and self-righteous to ideological and ambiguous. “It’s just the right thing to do.” Of course, the answers rely upon the question. When people ask: “What do you do?” the simple answer is to tell them you get paid to do it. However, if someone asks: Why do you do it?”

“For the money!” becomes an empty answer; one that reminds us of who we are. Money doesn’t cut it at the end of the day.

And so we are left wondering why. There is only one reason to do anything and it is right under our nose whether that is the compost pile or the wild apple and plum trees that we might pass everyday while walking the dog (rescued from the pound).

Why do I keep bees, have a large garden, collect water, compost, save seeds, and use no poisons? Why do I recycle scrap wood for projects? Because not to do so would take away a quality of happiness that doing such things gives me.

Why do I do what I do? It gives me a higher quality of happiness, and as Aristotle wrote: happiness depends upon ourselves, and the highest quality of happiness depends upon why we do what we do.

Perfect Imperfection

I decided that putting the leek starts in the ground, most of them looked dead or dying, was a chance that I was willing to make. The onion starts look good. Last year, our onion crop wasn’t that good and I remember wondering why home gardeners don’t often get those vegetables that we all see in the supermarket: those red, oval tomatoes, all sized and shapely, taking their place on the well prepared produce stands or that green, full-leafed lettuce plants in February. Gardeners, at least of my ilk, live in a different world; they live in a world where food often looks like well, food and not products.

With the ongoing and growing movement with regard to food culture, many people are more and more aware of the processes that are necessary to get food to the market. The process is in fact amazing! The process, however, gives us a false sense of what food is. It is not a commodity, the consequence of a closed and well-oiled system. Rather, food is a product of the rather imperfect world in which we live. Food is a product of the soil, of water, and of time and effort and more often than not, chance.

I try to remember this as a put down the small starter potatoes, just poking out their first shoots. I remember my last crop of potatoes. They seemed small and pathetic, at least until I took a bit of them. A little salt water, heat and time and such a potato is truly a work of art. Like art, producing food relies upon a bit of imagination and a lot of elbow grease. The result, whether on canvas or in the ground, is often not what we started out thinking it would be. However, the results, somehow, are always satisfying.

My leeks are doing well as are the onion starts. My tomato seedlings have little blossoms on them as they stare up out of the hothouse. I don’t know what will come of these as the season progresses, but I know the results will not be perfect.

Nature’s process is not perfect, but nature is perfect in its imperfection. While nature is not an artist, nor does it “produce” food, it is a process that we must and always will, rely upon. Nature is a verb, perhaps, but a verb that changes meaning over time; it never sits still awaiting definition. Nature offers a bit of insight into something that we must accept: the idea of perfect imperfection. But if my memory serves me right, imperfection can taste perfectly good!

Profit and Progress

For people who grow their own food, this time of year is a mix of stress and excitement. Seedlings are coming up, but in many parts of the country, it’s too early to put them out. The bees are beginning to get busy, but sometimes they swarm. The worries of a warm summer are coveted because of the unrelenting rain and cool spells that inevitably come. Animals birth, and some die. Farmers start ramping up the season, but have to wait for the always elusive “goldilocks” weather. This mix and match dichotomy is not limited to seasons.

Most of us live in societies where money is the method behind the madness, but want to trust our food while not paying unreal prices for it. For those brave souls who decide to give us what we want, they must try to do the right thing while figuring out the right thing to do in order to keep doing what they love. There must be a pay-off but the cost of that pay-off needs to be taken into consideration as well. Do you sell your soul out of necessity, or is it necessary to keep your principles in order to progress?

From farming come these philosophical conundrums. Gardening is not different. Running a business is, well… no different. Many of us begin the long road of life considering profit as progress. Some of us realize that profit in fact stands in the way of progress. But, these are not solutions; they are challenges that each of us seem to face no matter what we do. I have a dream, yes, but that dream and the reality that it creates are often not one in the same. Profit and progress come in many forms.

A few principles might help. First, be honest; not only with everyone around you, but perhaps most importantly with yourself. Second, know the hill that you will “die on”. There comes a time when profit is no longer a measure of progress, but a detriment to development. The change from one to the other is often slight and barely perceptible. Third, know why you do what you do. We often ask strangers “What do you do?” Perhaps we should start asking: “Why do you do what you do?” A more pertinent question if we are to profit from our progress.

The “P” Word

Progress is a peculiar word. And to make matters worse, it is a political word as well. Perhaps the problem is that we humans are a particular bunch, often specious and many times self-promoting. Progress is not often synonymous with tradition but perhaps that is only because we define it as profit. We have, no doubt, progressed but with profit as progress comes a price.

The price for the particular progress that is being promoted by the current preliminary agricultural programs being put forth under numerous and often publicized public interest in agrarian lifestyles and sustainable food-growing is that often progress is not seen as progress at all. However, I am here to tell you that sustainability in any form is most definitely growth, advancement, improvement, development: it is progressive!

While it is true that profitable progress will pay the price in the beginning, proper progressive movement relies upon the propensity of those involved to understand, to recognize, to perceive (if I may) the parallel between the proper way to grow, choose and eat food and the priorities that we choose to make. In short, progress is defined by why and what we prioritize. If we prioritize profit over progress than we get what we deserve which is exactly what we are getting now.

To prioritize profit and production over sustainable progress and points of virtue is to presuppose that profit is a necessary participant in proven progress. The point is that progress is not always profit-driven. Progress can be profitable but only if it is sustainable. So, while sustainable lifestyles seem in vogue and are popular with a growing number of the populace, it is not a popularity contest. Furthermore, although the progressive movements with food production often rely upon pre-industrial ideas, the proposed changes are necessary if we are to remain progressive.

The phenomenon is primarily a progressive one that is properly founded upon proven production means that are both profitable and practicable if not predictable.

Thanks for reading! Philo

Revolution!

The “new” food revolution seems to be upon us, and I hope that it turns out to be a revolution that lasts. As revolutions go, this is a more positive one as it is seems to be a return to basic facts rather than pie-in-the-sky, wishful thinking on the wings of dreams. The new food revolution is, rather, pie-in-the-pan, hard-work on the backs of those who see the potential in acting upon truth.

As most revolutions, this one has its (let’s say) issues. First, while the wagon has pulled out, there are still those jumping that don’t belong. Simple words like “organic” are now being touted by very non-organic growers and worse, being taken over by bureaucratic system that has spent so much time and effort working so hard against the faithful cultivators of quality; just ask Joel Salatin! Other corporate confusions now include honest and innocent terms like “free range”, “cage-free”, and of course we have the GMO-battle: a dishonest battle about honest labeling.

As opting out becomes more and more tempting, we must remember that perhaps these dishonest, deceitful, and mendacious moves by agribusiness all over the world may just be desperate endeavors by the few and the powerful. We must plant on! Discard the lawns and the mowers, pick up the hoes and the rakes. Buy a chipper for god’s sake! Let ‘s ignore the ignorant and take on the towers of trade that would keep us under their thumb!

Feed the worms, and feed yourself! The time is now!

Patience my…

I put the hops in this last weekend. We also planted six berry bushes, some asparagus and threw in some lettuce and Arugula for good measure. It feels good to get in the dirt again. I can almost smell the pungent, green buds and the rich red and purple clumps of berries. The asparagus is a different story: it takes years, not months. I threw the dill out in the herb bed and watered the turnips. The seedlings are coming up…all in due time.

If you begin to grow your own food you soon find that doing so is an exercise in patience. While patience is not necessarily a virtue, it is a necessity. This is true with many things and in many situations. Patience is not easy. Everyday I wake up and check the plants, opening the hot house according to the weather (this morning at 6am before work). Coming home, I expect change, but often there is none.

Patience, I am told, becomes a habit with practice. I’ve not found this to be true. Patience, I feel, is often a detriment to good ideas, holding back intuitive blasts of genius. Patience is often accepted as reasonable when it is often cowardly. It is reasonable to wait, when what we mean is that we cannot make a move towards what we know is the right thing. These kinds of decisions and challenges are part of life, but with gardening patience is neither good nor bad, detrimental or progressive, it simply is.

I’ll wait to plant the rest of the garden: the beans, the squash, the onions and leek, the beets, and the tomatoes plus a few other nicknacks. I will wait, but I won’t be happy about it. I’ll wait to work the soil some (I’m going “till-less” this year), and set the irrigation system up, but the waiting will be long and arduous. Patience is that long journey that we sometimes take, telling ourselves that it is the trip that matters while knowing all the time that it is the destination that really matters.

Every Spring

Every spring I put small seeds into small containers filled with dirt. Every spring some of those small seeds “miraculously” sprout into small plants; all reaching for something bigger. This year I am trying an array of plants; some of which are new, and some of which I have been saving from previous plants in previous years. It is this saving of seeds that is truly the cornerstone of growing food.

The Dester tomato seeds from one of last year’s tomatoes were the first to sprout, is the biggest and all of the six seeds from the fruit has now come up, and continues to grow at a truly admirable rate. The newest of the seeds seem shy, poking their small leaves from the soil slowly. The garden awaits and the seeds are willing.

I have started all the seeds in my hothouse. This year I built some homemade warming tables from a few pallets I got from a local hardware store. Covered in black plastic and sat on buckets, the heater placed under the tables provides the needed heat and the green netting draped over the large glass covers provides the needed cool. A balance, which is in the end: life itself.

I water from the fifty-gallon drum that I collect water in. The water is green, dirty and filled with time and patience. It is nature and somehow I must believe that there is balance in the liquid muck. The system has worked so far; the microcosm of life beginning and I look in upon it on a daily basis thinking that I am in control, but realizing that I am only a caretaker.

This year holds surprises that I have yet to discover. A new irrigation system to put in and try; additional beds and paths, new plants mean new beginnings and failures that mean new endings. There is a cycle here that is reminder of the greater cyclical nature that we are all a part of. To lose perspective of this is to lose track of the truth.

I am not the first to say this, but gardening is truth. I am not the first to realize this, but we do not control nor do we own; we are custodians and we loan a bit of time to find out what we can do and what we cannot do. This knowledge comes one plant at a time; one day a year when we notice the slightest bulge in the soil and begin making our plans.

Permanent Culture

We want something permanent and permaculture seems to offer the certainty that we search for. The answer, like so many answers that we find, is difficult to accept and at first glance we often sway away from it. However it has grown patient, being accustomed to our ignorance of it. It waits patiently, knowing we do not have a choice. We ignore it and it sits back down silently awaiting our return; we will return. We must return.

Permaculture does not begin with digging a hole, planting ground cover, planting bushes, fruit trees, and finally large, slow-growing giants. Rather, permaculture starts with an understanding that we can be a part of something greater than ourselves. It is almost religious, but without the reliance upon religious doctrine or dogma. Permaculture relies upon time and our acceptance that it is beyond us and at the same time makes up the core of what we, as agrarians, really are: stewards, renters of the land that we love.

We strive in so many ways to be remembered, to leave a legacy but these ways are bound to fail. Children forget and businesses crumble; blood is thin and love is short lived; people are irresponsible and the greatest of natural places fall to ruin. Permanence comes at a cost and permaculture does not let us forget this fact easily. Plant a tree that you know you will never see come to full fruition; be a part of an ecosystem that is not anthropocentric. Be a part of an infinite system that you somehow love and that cannot love you back. Pay the price to protect the one thing that can protect you.

The permaculture that we work toward now will become the permanent culture that lives after us. Permaculture is progress, but it is progress that stretches beyond the borders of desire, of economy, and even of human imagination. Stretch the limits of abilities and see what happens. Make permaculture permanent in our culture.

The Armchair Philosopher

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