Monday, January 30, 2012

Conserving Arkansas's Agricultural Heritage (CAAH): Ancient Seeds, First Seedlings of the Year



CAAH and the First Seedlings:

The click of the door closed the Anthropology lab for the weekend. Earlier, my stomach fluttered as I planted one, two, sometimes three seeds into each flat. Cherokee Mustard seeds and Red Russain Kale seeds were small like the beads you buy in tubes at the craft aisles, and could only be brushed with a thin layer of soil so that their stringy stalk could push through easily. These were the seed bank’s first seeds of the New Year to be planted. I sprinkled them with water from the sink, and placed them under the grow lights on the counter.

Monday morning and the door opened to a peeping of green over the flats. The Cherokee Mustard was living with the small square of land- in three days, it had risen from the Earth. What spirit! Do these small leaves already have a snap of mustard spice inside?


Transferring Tomato Seedlings:

The transfer of seedlings is a difficult matter, it isn't just one of those everyday things. If you pull on young leaves they are likely to sever and if you yank on new stems then the root ball may break, stuck in the dirt. Tomato seedlings aren't root zombies like Bermuda, able to live in a lopped off state. Carefully dish the seedling up with a spoon, using a broad circular motion that scoops up the dirt that the roods could be ling to. Keep the plant whole. Put it in a big pot and cover it with dirt to about an inch below the lowest leaves. Ahh! now you can make sure the growing plants have sun and water every day!

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Good Recyclable Habits

Habits are hard forming and it is not often that I recognize that an activity has become part of my day to day lifestyle. Mulling over a cup of mug green tea this morning, I realized as I plucked the used tea bag from the cup and opened my compost bucket, how composting has become a unique habit in that it is second nature, my unconcious way to handle food scraps, as well as a subject of practical education that I am enthusiastic to explore and use when gardening. A compost bucket has a home next to my doorm room desk, and when I see it to be brimming over with coffee grounds and satsuma peels, I will take to dump into the working pile at Little Rock Urban Farms or at Big Wayne’s gardens.
I first learned to compost at the farmstead on Petij Jean Mountain. I learned to dump excess food scraps and organic matter from the garden into the pile. Imagine my shock to find a winter squash growing in the pile a few months after I started gardening. Amazing! I looked at compost more closely and as I learned by both reading and getting my hands dirty, I sensed the earthy wonder of the process. Leftover food, grass clippings, the leaves on the lawn...were not trashed but synthesized into dirt. All those leaves, apple cores, and tomato tops conglomerate in a from of witches brew - magic is worked and rich humus is formed. The soil is richer with nutrients, and microbial life grows, which attracts worms that loosen the soil, which allows the plants in the graden to thrive, which feeds the people...who have the choice to comkpost. Soil is alive, and when humans compost, they perform what I feel to be some of the most fruitful actions possible in human experience, by enouraging diversity of life they contribute to ecosystem development. Composting is one of my favorite parts of gardening, because my energy is being used constuctively; my actions add to the life of the soil. Grateful for the fruits and vegetables that nourish me, the least I can do is return the excess back to earth. Relationships with compost are helping me be grounded in a new, more mature form of joy. Before my compost conversion, my taste buds would rise in the store as my Mom bought me packages of pineapple, or better yet, summer blackberries. But at the end of the day, my purple stained teeth were the only remnant of the delicious fruit, and the plastic container they came was lost in the garbage, a lost cause for the soil. The scrumptious moments were quickly over, for as it is often said, joy is fleeting. Perhaps, John Keats says it more beautifully than me in his poem “Ode on Melancholy”:

Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might

Here, Keats uses the metaphor of a grape bursting in a man’s mouth to represent the transience of experience. There is an intense flood of sweetness that leaves an aftertaste of sorrow at its passing. He posits that at the core of delight is sadness, because beauty passes and fades away. Death, abscence leave memories. While it is true that beauty passes, thinking about compost can extend the metaphor of the grapes. Imagine tossing the grape stems with kiwi peals, wood chips, papaya pulp, and pumpkin shell - put them together and what have you got? A piece of land that is better than it was before, and better because of human action. Grape vines will bend deeply with more clusters, and a cornocopia of other fruits will flourish on the land. What recyclable joy grows in the garden when the compost is mixed in with the soil!
The experience of composting means mixxing new life out of old, and along with the fresh humus, human stories are dug in. In the same ground that the summer squash roots are drawing nourishment are material remnants of my experiences- the top of my first persimmon given to me by Raeleigh, the coffee grounds from the Summatran brew Wayne roasted, and the apple core that my cat Leon batted aound the kitchen. Compost brings feelings that my body trusts as it relaxes into the sense of durable, tough weather joys, who have no closing end because they are modeled after natural cycles. When rooted in the earth, good experiences are like good stories, like blackberry days - they come round again and again.

Some people may think that my composting habits are strange, and question the smelly, goopy bucket in my doormroom corner. Many of my climbing friends, have laughed at the composting tupperware that Wayne and I keep between our seat during road trips. But I don’t mind, because composting is one of my best habits. I would lose something wonderful if I threw food away...

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Sweating Together and Material Value

What a treat to talk to my good friend Elizabeth Mattocks last night. Elizabeth was my Americorps supervisor on Petij Jean Mountain, and she inspired me for being a strong woman and collaborative leader who encouraged her volunteers to work hard as a team and then to innovate individual projects to improve the community. Elizabeth hoed with all of us in the garden, badged her palms with pitch fork calluses, and ended many a day sitting in a circle with us in the break room. All were hot and sticky, all covered in dirt; a few arms were green from tomato vines. The rich dirt of Petij Jean Mountain rooted our Americorps community as we worked the earth together, our unique human energies commingling in the soil to produce sensuous wonders such as Valencia tomatoes and winter savory. My term on the mountain has ended as well as the Americorps program itself, which has shifted to a single horticultural internship in the summers. I miss the friends that I made there, especially Elizabeth. They were my first teachers in the garden and on the farmstead.

Elizabeth is now one of my closest friends, and now is a successful farm manager in North Carolina who “can not grow enough” for the growing demands of the local farmer’s markets. She is coming into town next week for the Southern SSAWG (Southern Sustainability Agricultural Working Group) Conference at which I will be volunteering. We made plans to hang out after the event. At the end of the conversation, she said, “You know, I were that scarf you gave me everywhere. It is my favorite. It was the first homemade gift that a friend ever gave to me.” I was shocked- the scarf had been a gift well over a year ago. It is interesting how working with the land and handcrafting items are similar in that they strengthen human relationships through the medium of particular things. Handmade scarves are softer to the stroke than those in stocked in a store and tomatoes shine more vibrantly orange or red on the vine than on a shelf and because they are entwined with a communal memories and gratitude.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

The First Night of the Last Semester

Wayne and I left his house early this morning, driving past a herd of elk in Boxley Valley. Slowly the mountains, full of misty clouds this morning, gave way to the rambling city of Clarksville, an interstate clattered with billboards. Finally, we clanked through Little Rock traffic to arrive at the G Street place, a farm that seemed empty without chickens rolling in the compost (Big Wayne's chickens are the joy of the garden, they role in dry dirt like a pig in mud in order to get rid of the bugs in their feathers. The afternoon was rushed- I sent Wayne off to work with a tofu scramble for dinner, petted Leon for a bit, dropped by the climbing gym. Now, I am back at the dorm room trying not to think about the busy semester ahead, and instead remembering the clouds that . The last week of Christmas break, Wayne and I spent on "holiday" in Arkansas.
Our home base was his house. Our intent was to enjoy the Arkansas' country, to sink our roots in deeper into the loamy soils of creak beds and river valleys, and scramble up sandstone bluffs to watch the eagle's soaring still higher in the sky. The looming cloudscape of a demanding semester made our time together and our time outdoors a gift. We floated the Buffalo, helped Big Wayne plant a raspberry patch and plan for the spring garden, identified Mock Oyster mushrooms, explored a cave, played Settlers of Cataan with the Hartlerode family, and cuddled with Stella's new puppies. Of course, we climbed at the Ranch, this time with our friends Joe and Barret. Both Wayne and I reached a new level in our climbing. Wayne ascended his first v11 and I heel-hooked my way through the Swiss Chard Traverse, my first v4 outside. You can read about those exciting moments at Wayne's new blog, Backcountry Fringe.
On our last night, the two of us backpacked with Big Wayne in search of a cave that Wayne had found seven years ago, but failing to find it before sunset, we built up a fire and made camp on a bouldery ridge. The three of us slept in a circle around the campfire. About every thirty minutes the firee cooled down and one of us would wake up to feed it a new stack of branches. Waking up several times, the night was slowly traced by the bright round moon inching over the hills to slowly and hazily cross the gap between the opposite ridge. A long and silvery cold night. A branch fell and caught Wayne's thermarest pad and then his sleeping bag on fire. It burnt through the bag, and his sweatshirt before he put it out, only after waving the pad dangerously close to my face. The three of us chuckled nervously, and turned back to sleep. I lay on my back and watched the ember quivering of the beech leaves that reflected the fires glow against the grey silver sky.
How strange it is to be here in the city again, and alone tonight in the dorm room- a place that now feels as temporary as a campsite. The last semester....I must admit that I am a little nervous about finishing this section of my life. And the summer, next fall...are seasons that belong to a new climate and are unknown despite the piles of ideas that Wayne and I have raked up. When we pulled out of his driveway this morning, Big Wayne gave me a big hug. As he shut the door to the aztec, he said, "Don't be pulled too hard in too many directions at once." Right now I need to channel my energy, day by day, into my work for this last semester, and slowly put one foot in front of the other to explore a new space.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

New Growing Joys

Wayne and I helped Big Wayne put together his green house. He bent the ribs of the frame out of an old trampoline. We secured the plastic by nailing on weather stripping and plywood. Now we are eating shittake, kale, and salad greens. Purple carrots are growing down, and soon it will be time to start the seeds for the spring garden.
Asparagus fronds give the garden an exotic look. Here we are planting garlic cloves. Each clove will multiply into a garlic bulb- delicious with the tomatoes and shittake! Garlic is an immune booster, regulates blood sugar levels, improves your ticker, and wards away the vampires that live with the bats in Buffalo River caves.



Dad built me this cold frame last winter out of an old window and spare boards. Cold frosts this season do not make the lettuce wilt, and there are cool, crisp salads all winter long. Right now I have totsoy, red Russian kale, fennel, and lolla rossa lettuce enjoying the sunlight from the same window from which I used to watch the sun set over the hills at home.

Having leftover oregano, I decided to experiment with the cuttings and see if we could start a plant. New growth is popping up after a week and a half.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Advancing Technology into our Natural Lives

The technological age is now fueled by the green spirit, or human energy is being invested into inventions that work within natural cycles to improve the ecological home shared by humans, plants, and animals. Over the Christmas break, my Dad and I have had fresh conversations about new inventions that work within marginal environments such as deserts. Many of these inventions mimic the process of nature, using energy from the earth's only outside energy source, the sun. They encourage the diversity of organisms necessary for a mature eco-system that is better capable os sustaining life than one closer to monocultures. Dad works at Future Fuels, one of the leading producers of biodiesel. My Dad told me about how algae is being grown to make fuel for vehicles. The algae is grown on arrid land that is not suitable for habitation or agriculture. The algae absorbs C02, allowing it offset the emmissions that occur when the fuel is burned. The balance of the intake and output of C02 would contributes to a greater stability of the atmosphere. 350, a number that Bill McKibben is working to make known world wide, is the maximum amount of C02 emmissions that could be emitted each year. The algae farms are still in development, but they are representative of the exciting developments that will be shaped by the global warming bottleneck.

I found one such invention when I picked up the New Yorker today, and found a surprising article on a new invention called the waterboxx. The invention would allow local people to plant trees in poor environments or deforested areas. The specific goal is to reforest desert areas that used to be fertile land, a great boon since increased desertification has resulted a third of the earth to become marginal, dry land. The waterboxx is an invention of biomimicry, that is it is modeled after natural processes. It mimics the way that a plants draws water, and the result is that a sapling recieves enough water to grow through the perilous first year, while at the same time developing tough roots so that it can endure the desert climate after the box is removed. The result is more trees to absorb the excess CO2 in the atmosphere. My Dad was excited to learn about the waterboxx, and we discussed how they could be useful for people who live in desert areas or for farmers who are repairing land damaged by monoculture. Having been on a mission trip to Haiti earlier this year, he commented, “ It would be neat to replant forests at the edges of deserts and begin working across them. If the biodegradable Waterboxx could be made much much cheaper (like less than $1 instead of 10s of $s), this would be more likely. Nearly the entire island of Haiti needs replanted in trees.” I could see integrating the waterboxx into an organization that is similiar to Heifer, in which small communities, families, women, and minorities are empowered to grow their own food or start their own small business. Fruits and vegetables make a colorful, healthy diet for affluent and imporvershed nations alike. Small green businesses can help the locals celebrate fresh food- a gift of technology, water, earth, and sun.

Monday, January 2, 2012

The Archies: 60 Peaks in 2011

One of my professors encouraged her blog readers to participate in the Archies, which looks at tangible matter from the past year before you delve into the next one. (This is my second year to celebrate Archies, but you can check out last year’s list by clicking here.) The presences on the list are not categorized as good or bad, but they were of import. In a way, they are they are the most visible ridges in the year’s vista. The Archies exclude constant presences such as the loved faces of family, friends, and Wayne Robin.


2011- a year thick with many things. It was my first year to cross the pond to visit England, Scottland, and Ireland. With graduation approaching, I am having to make decisions about life after the Honors College. Environmental threats, political unrest, and especially climate change call for attention.
  1. 350
  2. David Abrams
  3. Leon the Cat (saved as a kitten by Wayne from the jaws of Stella)
  4. Hiking in Eden Falls Cave with my family
  5. Women Farmers, Women working in Agriculture
  6. Building Big Wayne’s Greenhouse
  7. UCA Environmental Alliance
  8. Ballot initiative: The Natural Gas Severance Tax Act of 2012
  9. My brother Josh protested that fixxing the cat was unethical. He said, “Isn’t that like abortion?”
  10. The Jerwood Centre, Dove Cottage
  11. Striding Edge of Helvellyn
  12. The Globe Theater
  13. The Red River Gorge
  14. Vegan
  15. Persimmons
  16. Waterboxxes
  17. Fairytale Eggplant from the Farmers Market
  18. Antiquarian bookstores
  19. The Lake District
  20. Vandana Shiva
  21. Shittake Logs
  22. Coffee Mornings with Patrick
  23. Stop Arkansas Fracking
  24. Movie: Jean de Florette
  25. Class Action Settlement for Arkansas Rice Farmers, whose fields were contaminated by genetically modified rice from Bayer
  26. Madame Bovary
  27. Herman Daly
  28. Compost
  29. Deep Economy, Eaarth (Bill McKibben)
  30. Dad’s Extended Garden
  31. Abbotsford
  32. Carpools with Raleigh
  33. Movie: Forks Over Knives
  34. Movie: Hotel Rwanda
  35. John Ruskin
  36. Coxcomb Celosia
  37. Ponca Lost Valley Canoe (#1 returning Archie- good people, great conversation, and Simba the Cat)
  38. Bodum Thermal Stainless Steel French Press
  39. The National Trust
  40. Chickens in our family gardens
  41. Wendell Berry
  42. Huffington Post
  43. Beef Beef’s Blog
  44. The Unicorn Tapestries at Stirling Castle
  45. UBINIG
  46. Wayne at 24HHH
  47. “Block by Block, Occupy Little Rock!” (the Police assisiting protestors at the Occupy March in November)
  48. The Weekend Theater
  49. Keneth Branagh Shakespeare Adaptations
  50. The Spirit Cathches You and You Fall Down
  51. Little Rock Climbing Center
  52. CAAH
  53. Two Moms in the Raw - Blueberry Granola bars
  54. Cold Frame (made with Dad)- all winter salads
  55. Martha Graham Dance Company
  56. Sunsets from the Rest Stop at Highway Seven
  57. Ozark Highlands Trail
  58. Wordsworth's Indian Rock Houses
  59. The Natural State of America
  60. Allegro Queen Bee Tea