Tag Archives: brooklyn gardener

What? No End In Sight?

On a day like today, when I woke up with my stomach in my throat, my bed in a sea of quease, and my bowels grumbling, for a moment I considered wishing Harold Camping were right.  But, despite his promises, urges, calculations, and – when the world didn’t end in May as predicted – recalculations, today wore on with no sign of Armageddon approaching.  That is, unless, of course, you count all the signs that are cumulatively screaming that the end of the world as we know it is near.  Folks in the camp who say we are on the brink of TEOTWAWKI, as it is known in those circles, point to the following as indicators the end is coming fast: growing political and social unrest, the end of cash currency, stark economic disparity, increased natural disasters such as earthquakes (I’m granting here that the increase of earthquakes in particular is debatable), Hitchcockian “crazy, hairy ants” invading broad swathes of the southern United States, and the ever present threat of zombies (in Hollywood, and on Cracked.com anyway – but seriously this does appear on the list of end times signs of at least some doomsdayer soothsayers).

The inclusion of zombies in the broader apocalypse conversation appears to stem from the US Center for Disease Control and Prevention’s blog post in May 2011 (just days before May 21, Camping’s most advertised end-times target), “Preparedness 101: Zombie Apocalypse,” in which the CDC gave evacuation recommendations and other guidance for dealing with a natural disaster in the guise of what to do in the event of a zombie invasion.  The blog post was intended to garner attention to an otherwise (perceived) snooze fest of a topic — which it did, and crashed the site temporarily in the process.  The fact that this normally boringly straight-laced federal agency would seize on suspicion of an impending faux catastrophe and poke fun at the apocalyptic Paul Reveres, is a strong indicator that, even if you’re not a believer that the end is near, others are.  At the least, it sure feels like, as is said in that Buffalo Springfield song, “Something’s happening here.  What it is ain’t exactly clear.”  Or, as captured by a recent ironic Occupy Wall Street protestor and his hand-painted sign, “This is a sign.”

So what do all these “signs” mean?  And if there really is no impending end ahead, why on earth does it feel so much like there is?  I could be the only one feeling like this, but anecdotal evidence suggests otherwise: witness the prepper/survivalist movement which seems to have grown out of post 9/11 fears of more terrorist attacks but in recent years has taken on a life of its own, at least in the blogosphere (case in point – each of the preceding word/s is linked to a different blog or article relating to the prepper/survivalist movement, with one in there just in case you want to friend the Facebook page dedicated to defeating zombies).

My guess is that all the hype is just practice for next year, when folks are really going to get bent out of shape about the more longstanding predictions that 12/21/12, where the Mayan calendar drops off, will usher in the Great Big End.  The 2012 prediction has been around much longer than the upstart Camping’s and his group Family Radio’s more recent threats, and since Hollywood has done nothing to assuage our fears (see, e.g., 2012, and a whole host of recent other cinematic what-if exploitations).  As we close out this year without any prophesied calamities setting in (other than the very real ones noted above), I’m betting that the growing swirl of doomsday rhetoric and sentiment, unhampered by global political and social rest, may all be just preface to the panic and disorder to be distributed in the fourteen months ahead.

As for these 2012 predictions, I believe that our fears have been collectively cast onto this quirk in human history that really doesn’t mean much.  Who knows why the Mayan calendar stops on 12/21/12?  It could be to test our faith in our own ability to carry on.  It could be an old Mayan joke, cast on unsuspecting heirs.  It’s possible the Mayans just got tired, and decided to take a little break and never got back to it.  If the Mayans were so smart, and were not just pulling a futuristic prank on us, and that date really represents the End, don’t you think they’d have given us a more of a heads-up on it?  I mean, at least they could’ve drawn a little fire and brimstone.  I admit that I have done no serious study of the matter (unless you count me being up tonight web-browsing serious) and that I do not have any background that gets me anywhere near expert status, but I do agree that, as some suspect, people have been reading way too much into this Mayan calendar matter.  I suspect that 12/21/12 will come and go like 05/21/11 without incidence other than a little egg on the face of some zealots.  (I recently read Cleopatra: A Life, by Stacey Schiff (Brown & Co. 2010), where I learned that ancient civilizations had to reset their calendars multiple times before getting it right, with varying resulting inconveniences, but none of them God’s wrath.)  Another viewpoint, that maybe I could get on board with, is that the end of the Mayan calendar has no apocalyptic consequences, per se, but that it might be a turning point in human history, much the way the birth of a white buffalo in Janesville, Wisconsin, in the 1990s was viewed by some Native American tribes and other people.

But the question remains, “why now?”  Why is it now that there is such a strong undercurrent of instability of the status quo.  Is it really coming from vague fear of what might happen with the Mayan calendar ending?  Is it really just the aftermath of unrestrained fear post 9/11?  Is it the real worry that we’re not going to be able to get ourselves out of the environmental messes we’ve put ourselves in?  Or is something more?  Is it, like the zombies that dance in the shadows of our fear and humor, other monsters of our own creation that are unpredictable and capable of taking on lives of their own?

Recently, I posted MIA: Mourning Jobs, a critique of Jobs’ failure to use his company’s power to create jobs in America and turn Apple into a paragon of social responsibility.  I wrote something in it that was ill-informed.  I commented, essentially, that technology had advanced and is advancing at such a dizzying pace that even technology itself can’t calculate that pace.  Since then, I have discovered Moore’s law, which, roughly stated, was the observation and prediction of Intel co-founder’s Gordon E. Moore, first appearing in print in Electronics Magazine in 1965, that the number of transistors that can be placed on an integrated circuit (or computer chip) inexpensively will double every two years.   Embedded in the theory of course is the recognition that there must be a limit to the trend, since it requires that the transistors get smaller and smaller.  They won’t just disappear.  Intel’s website identifies Moore’s law as the driving factor of the semiconductor industry, which is echoed by others who understand Moore’s law to have been a self-fulfilling prophecy since, as companies anticipated that their competitors would develop technologies in pace with the predicted trend, they pushed to get there first.  It seems widely accepted that, because of Moore’s law, devices have become more powerful and smaller.  The fact that I was able to write this and you are able to read it is just one minor example of the power of technology.

While we may daily witness the awe-inspiring capacity of modern computing, what we don’t see is that transistors on an integrated circuit are now so small that it would take 2,000 of them stacked on top of each other to reach the thickness of a strand of human hair.  Having gotten to this smaller (or nano) scale may make it possible for Moore’s law to continue since the roadblock just described (you can only get so much smaller and smaller until eventually you disappear) presumes the regular world of physics applies.  Once you get to a nano scale, however, the world of quantum mechanics, with rules much different than those of classical physics, applies.  In this world, for example, quantum particles like electrons can pass through thin walls even though they might not be able to break through the barrier.  This is known as quantum tunneling and has posed a challenge for engineers.  Another leg of the presumption that Moore’s law is bound to end is that it presumes the use of the transistor and integrated circuit, essentially, as we know them.  Already, I suspect that geeky worker bees are busy looking for the next wave of technology that might extend the application of Moore’s law by replacing such units.  (See, also, Ray Kurzweil’s law of accelerating returns).  And now we are smack in the world of scarily infinite possibilities.  The possibilities, of course, are about change.  And herein lies the fear.

The world is moving at such a dizzying pace, and shows no signs of slowing, that it appears some of the framework on which it is laid may need to change fundamentally, or even be overhauled, to accommodate the social, political and economic revolutions that are occurring.  This, my friends, is scary.  But change, too, is inevitable, and I have faith that it is within our means to guide that change for the greater good.  I have been a lucid dreamer virtually since I can remember.  Over a lifetime of talking to others on the subject of dreams, I recall someone once saying that death in dreams represents change.  Assuming this to be true, and there is a subconscious but not intellectual connection between change and death, it would be no wonder that these times leave so many people feeling like the end is near.

The white buffalo in Janesville was born just down the road from where I lived.  For weeks, I watched as people pulled up in their cars, vans and RVs from all across the country to witness the miracle, and be at the point where the crossroads appeared.  There were some people holding signs, encouraging each other to honor the miracle and to lead with peace.  When I was at Occupy Wall Street, I saw signs of love, and goodwill, along with the others telling people like me who make my living working for the big bad banks to jump out the window.  I’m hoping that we embrace the change we’re witnessing as an opportunity to take the high road, and not succumb to the stresses of modern times.

Well, I’d like to continue to wax poetic on the presence of the various predictions and interpretations, but I have to go nurse my flu and may only have three minutes remaining to post this anyway.  Count down, post commenced 9:50 p.m., ending 11:57 p.m.

Revel on, fellow revelers, wherever tomorrow takes you.

post script: 10/22/11, 3:42 a.m.  Welcome to the other side of fear.

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Keeping It Green

Maybe I was a little harsh.  My last report on my bi-weekly CSA pick up pointed out the meagerness of some of the offerings.  I’ve been noting all summer the harsh effects of climate change (f/k/a global warming) on home gardeners across the country.  According to an email that I received this week, re-posted below, we are not alone.  Larger local growers, as well, have felt the impact of unpredictable weather this season, which has run the gamut from drought to flooding, and has resulted in various pests brought in on the winds of Irene, blight, rot, increased sick days and low worker morale.  I just wanted to take a minute to say that I do try to give a fair and accurate picture of this – my first – CSA experience, but it doesn’t always capture the whole picture.  This is why I have invited others to tell me their stories, share their experiences, suggest additional alternasources, and, now, why I am forwarding the (very thoughtful) message I received a couple days ago from the organizers of my CSA and the farmers who grow some of the pretty awesome food I’ve been eating this summer.

Recently at a farmers market in Fort Greene, I saw signs from GrowNYC calling for donations to help organic/local farmers whose crops were damaged or wiped out by Hurricane Irene.  Their efforts are still underway.  One of their suggestions for how to help, in addition to direct donations, is to commit to eat locally as much as possible in September (the “locavore challenge”).  I’m encouraging all of you/us to continue this commitment through the end of the year, since it will take more than a month’s effort to help the farmers recover losses from a season screwed up by the environmental mess that we’re in.  Please share your stories here and beyond about what you are doing to participate in an extended locavore challenge (if the Occupy Wall Street protesters aim to make it through the winter, so can we).  Updates ahead on ways I’ve been putting my CSA treats to work.  Please pass along your recipes, suggestions, etc., on where/what/how to advance the local-eating agenda.

Here’s the email….

Chris and Eve have sent an update about the difficulties they’ve experienced this growing season, which I’ve shared below. We’ll be sending everyone an end-of-season survey later on, but if you have any feedback to pass on to the farmer before then, feel free to email the core group at kwtcsa@gmail.com.

Stacy,

On behalf of the KWT CSA core group

From the farmers:


This has been a challenging last couple of months and although we were not wiped out by the hurricane the amount of rain has been a huge issue affecting the quality of many crops.  Not just with organic growers, as conventional farmers in the northeast are experiencing similar challenges and losses.

Under the circumstance we try to stay optimistic about the situation. All seasons are different and rarely are they void of conditions at some time that will have an impact on quality, quantity or diversity.    Farms in the northeast can be impacted by one or more problems like pests, drought, disease, flooding or other issues  outside of the farmers control.   Other farms even 100 miles away may have a totally different growing experience in a season.

I met with Cornell cooperative extension today to seek professional help (as I do throughout the season) regarding three different crop disease issues  and one pest issue tied directly to the wet weather.  They believed the steps that we had taken were sound and accurate given the tools we have under the national organic standards.  I also learned about the vast damage and loss of  crops in our region to conventional farmers who can use chemicals as a tool.  That didn’t make me feel better; I just wished conditions were better.

In conclusion, we are disappointed that we were struck with tomato blight this year,  that we have received almost double our annual rainfall total (most of which in the last month and a half),  that we were hit with damaging hurricane winds and pests and insects that were transported with winds.  What does this mean for crops:

Cracking and rotting of root crops like sweet potatoes, carrots, potatoes and carrots.  Tomato quality and loss due to blight which kills the plant and cracking and rotting due to excessive rain.  This means we have to throw out a lot of produce.  Heavy rain and pooling of water leads to leaf disease on all kale, collards, cabbage, broccoli, head lettuce, beans beets and many more.  In extreme cases plant roots can suffocate leading to the plant wilting to the ground.  That has happened to broccoli, kale and Brussels sprouts.  Seedlings that wilt off or get damaged by heavy winds and pounding rains.  Seeding schedules get thrown off because the ground is too wet to work.  Cultivation and weeding schedules are difficult to maintain.  Farm help doesn’t want to work and morale is affected and sick days increase.

These are some of the issues that are a result of the extreme weather we are experiencing.  We don’t like some of the challenges it has created and we feel grateful that it wasn’t worse for us and our csa members.

Thanks,

chris
QUESTION: And you?  What will you do to keep it green?  Go ahead … gimme the dirt!
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I Had Trouble in Getting to Big Easy

The day started out rotten.  Up at 4 a.m. (okay, well 4:30), only to miss my flight to New Orleans, despite my best efforts.  Made it all the way to JFK, raced inside like a lunatic, wheeled luggage flying behind me, only to find out I’d have to pay an additional $80 for the next flight this afternoon, couldn’t check my bags until at least after 1:00, and would have to trek it back home in the meantime to wait (which meant another $100 in cab fare to get home and back again later).  Sooooooo, while still in a spectacularly foul mood, I headed out back to check on the garden.

I had major renovations done on my house in the last six months.  I find that when I’m in a good mood I look at the changes and am pleased as punch I laid out the money for it.  When I’m grumpy, I see the tiniest nicks and chips in the new paint or corner spots where the moulding isn’t perfectly straight, or that infuriating little dribble of paint that hardened under the counter ledge in the opening between the dining room and kitchen, and think about the dollars wasted.  This morning I found the same phenomenon occurs in the garden.  I went out there and all I saw were the problems.  Although the first heirloom tomato ripened, this morning all I could see was the split at the top.  While the peach tree is producing lots of fruit despite some early season troubles, all I saw this morning were problems that I don’t remember being there a few days ago.  (In May, I sprayed it with copper fungicide but not in the amount Shannon’s recommended — I try to go easy with that stuff even thought it’s organic.  It’s still copper being sprayed on a tree that produces fruit I fully intend to eat.)

So, although I didn’t skip through the garden this morning, peppering self-congratulations, I did identify some problems that need fixing.  Of course, my mood is a little improved after getting up close and personal with the plants; that never fails.  Eternal happiness and sprightliness, however, can be a dangerous thing.  I don’t know that I would have spotted those issues if I weren’t such a grumpy gardener this morning.

I do feel like the guy in Dr. Seuss’ I Had Trouble In Getting to Solla Sollew.  He left all the pesky troubles he was having at home to get to the beautiful city of Solla Sollew (on the banks oft he beautiful River Wah-hoo, where they never have troubles, at least very few), but found that the journey wasn’t quite as easy as he had expected.  After an exhausting bout of difficulties getting to SS, he arrives to find that the city is suffering from a key-slapping slippard who moved into the door, and now no one can get in and no one can get out.  The town’s gone to pot and even the ever loyal doorman has decided to leave, off to the City of Boola Boo Ball, where they never have troubles, no troubles at all.  So, while I’d really like to kick off this vacation with a bloody mary, fixins courtesy of the garden, and chill till my flight at 3, I’ve decided to follow dude’s suggestions.

Declining the doorman’s invitation to follow him off to paradise, he tells us what he has decided to do:

…I started back home, to the Valey of Vung.  I know I’ll have troubles.  I’ll, maybe, get stung.  I’ll always have troubles.  I’ll, maybe, get bit by that green-headed Quail on the place where I sit.  But I’ve bought a big bat.  I’m all ready, you see.  Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!

Watch out ants.  I’m going to Shannon’s to buy my big bat.

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Gardening Podcast Round Up Correction

Props to the self-sufficient gardener (Jason Akers) for the correction.  It was not he who proclaimed something or other about the “women folk.”  It was Jack Spirko, of the Survival Podcast.  As I noted in my round up (not to be confused with Round Up, which I roundly condemn), I’ve spent a bit of time recently listening to various gardening and garden-related podcasts.  I should have been more careful to take notes because they did start to run together for me.  Unfortunately, I ran the self-sufficient gardener headfirst into the survival podcast guy, and ended up mistakenly attributing a confounding phrase (“women folk”) to Akers when I think it was Spirko who said it.  It’s not that I could feign to be offended on behalf of women folk.  They can speak for themselves (they’re allowed, I think).  It just interrupted the flow of the podcast (why is this all sounding so womanly?).  It was weird when I heard it on the podcast, and I assumed the guy was joking, till I didn’t.  There was no drum roll, no punchline, and I just waited to see if he was going to say anything about the fact that he’d just said something about the women folk cleaning the game that the men had caught.  I mean, seriously?  Well, I guess so.  That or he just forgot the drum roll and dropped the punchline.  Anyway, maybe there are parts of the world that really are, as they say, not Brooklyn.  No harm, no foul.  Akers straightened me out (and pointed out that his wife would not allow him to be sexist – right on, wifey!).  And I realized that maybe Spirko was getting all the sexism out of his system before bringing the impressive Chef Maribel (who needs to work on her marketing — the site is just weird — tell us, please, more about the program to help feed the hungry and less about whose famous cousin you cooked for) onto the show to kick some girly butt…maybe Spirko’s?

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Gardening Podcast Round Up – Starting with my Favorite

Yes, the only time I will write “Round Up” in this blog with any positive connotation at all. Well, to be honest, with you, not all of it positive…my apologies in advance for any harsh criticism…but I gotta give you all the dirt on this topic, and I’d be shortchanging you if I were anything but flat out, brutally honest. As always, this is all imho, and I do mean for it to be humble.

So, thanks especially to my fellow reveler Ralph, in the last couple weeks I’ve been listening avidly to various gardening podcasts. The jury’s still out on some of the others but I do think I’ve listened enough to find the one I like the most, so far at least.

My favorite, hands down, is the self-sufficient gardener, Jason Akers. He’s a guy in Kentucky (whose hardiness zone, for the most part, is the same as ours here in Brooklyn – find your own here). His podcasts vary in length but generally run about 30 minutes. He always starts with news and updates which, appropriately I think, tend to be particular to his own locality. The topics he covers range from the practical (see, e.g., peppers, strawberries, bluebirds, and composting) to the philosophical (e.g., Sun Tzu‘s The Art of War applied to gardening). Personally I think the practical ones are his strong suit but I appreciate the diversity in topics. In the ones I’ve listened to, he never comes across as arrogant or condescending, and, most importantly, really seems to get the revelry of gardening. Since I’ve been listening to so many of these, they’ve all started to run together so I have to apologize if I’m attributing something to him he didn’t say but he may have (seriously it seemed) referred to “the womenfolk” when discussing hunting and his wife preparing the food. It was weird and offensive and I’m hoping I’m wrong and he didn’t say it. He’s a young guy, at only 33 years old, but seems like he’s been gardening a long time and, again importantly, doesn’t take himself overly seriously. His website could be a little easier to navigate. The search function needs some improvement, but his podcasts make it worth the effort (and patience you need to find what you’re looking for).

Others that deserve a mention, and will get more coverage in the days ahead include the Growing Your Own Grub podcast. I’m not sure I’m getting the name right on this one (which is one of the things that keeps this from the #1 spot — I can’t tell by a quick look what the name of the blog is, who the host is, etc.) . This sounds like an older guy in Texas who tips his hat every so often to Akers, with who he agrees to disagree on several topics (e.g., raised bed vs. in ground gardening). We, the listeners, benefit when they disagree and get well-rounded coverage on the topic. Message to Akers & the GYOG guy: disagree more often — we learn from it. Another one that I’ve listened to but need more time with are Melinda Myers from my home state of Wisconsin, and Margaret Roach’s A Way to Garden. To the former, I need to listen more and get back to you. As for Margaret Roach, I’ve found a couple tidbits useful but it is presented more like a casual radio talk show, where you have to really listen to gather pointers than with some of the others that just give them to you straight-out and don’t so much bog you down with how they spend their days. I also am not getting some of the joy that I hear from other gardening blogs with Roach’s podcasts although, admittedly, I haven’t given them enough of a listen. When I do, I will definitely be updating this post.

In the meantime, let me pose this

QUESTION: do you have a favorite gardening podcast? What topics would you like to listen to covered on a podcast? Any least favorites? Go ahead … gimme the dirt!

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Grumpy Gardeners – CSA Pick Up #3

Here is the third installment of my CSA update…

The quick and dirty is that, as promised, the stash is getting meatier as the season wears on.  With the exception of some consistently sad-looking arugula and flowers that look like they were imported from the corner store, the wares continue generally to be top notch.  (Note: the goods need to be eaten fast.  I had some canteloupe with blueberries this a.m. that were from the pick up last Wednesday – so eight days in the fridge – and while they hadn’t gone bad, they didn’t have that oomph I’m used t0.)  That said, I find myself leaving the community garden each time feeling like I’ve just made a trip to the local soup kitchen, where I’m the one getting soup.

Here’s you in my shoes, at a typical CSA shares pick-up: You enter the community gardens, usually about 15 minutes after they’ve opened for pick-up (I believe scheduled pick-up time is 4-8 p.m.).  You’re probably one of only two groups of people picking up their shares.  You’ve come fully stocked and responsible, bags and cartons in tow, to save the farmers some much needed containers.  It’s off to a good start, as a fairly peppy lady ticks your name off a list and  sends you in the direction of the tables, arranged in a U-shape.  Your path is to circle around these tables, taking from each of the crates and bins.  On the other side of the table are several people.  From three to five people mill about, evidently on the provider (not purchaser) side, but it’s not clear who they are.  Out of curiosity I asked one day and found out that some of the people are from “CSA” (this is kind of confusing because I thought that “community supported agriculture” consisted just of the farmers and whoever agreed to provide the pick-up site, but there’s a larger organization behind it that I don’t know much about).  Some of the people, I believe, are from the garden that provides the site for the pick up.  It’s not clear who’s from where, and how many where’s there are.  The first visit I made at the beginning of the summer, I arrived several hours early by mistake and was fortunate enough to meet the farmer himself.  Since then, however, I haven’t seen any of the farmers, and haven’t gotten very good answers to the questions I’ve had about where the produce is from (while most of it is from the Garden of Eve, which is the farm associated with my CSA, usually they supplement with fruits/vegetables, etc. from other places).

Starting at the beginning of the u-shaped table, you have various vegetables, most of them green (e.g., lots of squash, usually several kinds of leafy greens such as arugula and kale), sometimes you’ll get lucky and they’ve thrown in some beets.  A piece of paper taped to the front of the bin tells you how much you’re entitled to take (for example, 2 lbs. of squash is typical, or it may specify 1 large or 2 small).  They have a scale there so you can weigh it yourself.  Strangely, they make sure to repeat what’s on the prominently displayed label in front of you, as if you might try to sneak an extra cuke or zuchinni past them.  Rounding the table, there are usually some herbs such as basil or dill.  Again, a piece of paper tells you how much you can take.  The last time I was there, a woman behind the table said that even though it said five stalks, most of them were pretty big and probably counted as two or three stalks each.  She said this as I was putting the first stalk of basil in my bag.  The eyes follow you as you round the corner and are allowed to pick from a selection of flowers (my CSA shares include eggs and flowers – not all do).  Each selection you make is carefully watched by the small crowd on the other side of the table.  They don’t talk.  They just watch.

Although it’s far from hostile, the whole experience is infused with a mildly unfriendly vibe that just isn’t what you expect of farmers and local eaters in general.  [Yes, I refuse to use the word “locavores.”  It makes me think of people eating their neighbors.  Not good eats.]  I think it’s a great alternative to the traditional grocery store, and I’m glad it’s there.  It’s closer than the nearest farmers markets, and so we’ve come to rely on it as a primary source of food this summer.  However, I have several gripes.  First, there seem to be way too many people than are needed to get the job done.  Second, they don’t have name tags and they don’t introduce themselves.  And, third, they are often unable to answer fairly basic questions about how the food was grown, and where it’s from (as mentioned above, this is with respect to the few foods that are not from the Garden of Eve and which appear to have been brought in when GoE’s supply is low or to add variety).  Every so often, there will be someone there who can help with a suggestion on how to cook the food, but they seem to have been instructed to keep the chit-chat to a minimum, and not to smile too much either, and definitely NOT to engage anyone else in conversation.  In truth, the people working the stand seem more like they’re doing community service in orange suits than helping people who paid good (yes, very good) money to get fresh fruits and vegetables that another person/s worked hard (yes, very hard) to grow.

The first couple visits I either didn’t notice the grumbly atmosphere or was too happy about getting a great variety of good, fresh food to pay it any mind.  This last time, however, I brought my partner and afterward was asked, sarcasm unbridled, “are they always that cheery?”  I finally had to admit that it was not just my imagination and that, at least when they’re standing there, these are not happy people, for whatever reason – time of day, punishing heat (granted, they all stand underneath a tent as we “shoppers” stand outside it in the sun to collect our goods), or some other unseen but definitely felt politics boiling beneath the surface.  It’s exhausting each time I go there to try to get a conversation going about gardening or food or any topic for that matter.  It’s a bit of a buzz kill on what should be a rather peppy experience.  I tend to get there early enough, usually within the first hour scheduled for pick up, so it shouldn’t be that they’ve been there too long.  Besides, this is all about gardening … from the food coming in from Garden of Eve to the pick up being hosted at the community gardens.  It’s about good food and perky plants, for pete’s sake.  Who brought in the dark cloud?

Bringing home my stash after visits like this (where my efforts to engage are met with little more than grunts and curious stares) reminds me of one of the better pieces of advice I gave my (now grown) daughter: don’t eat the food of a pissed-off cook.  People whose hands are on food should never transfer crappy energy.  The warning was solid advice, for more reasons than one.

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Listening to My Garden

Wow.  Just went to my revel music garden and had a listen to my front yard.  I played the links, one right after the other and listened, just to my front yard.  That is what it sounds like.  They all have their own little, and sometimes big, voice.  Summer breeze rounding it all out at the end.  Perfect.

Listening to — I mean been reading The Secret Teachings of Plants.  I’m not influenced by that.  No, not at all.  Ha.

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Call of the Wild

Hello fellow revelers,  please check out my post below on my impressions of Wildman Steve Brill’s wild edibles tour that I took in Prospect Park last month (some of the pickings remain for edification and identification purposes in my living room — my oh-so-patient partner would be rightfully impatient right about now but, luckily for me, is not).  I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear from someone in another part of the country as to whether there are such tours going on elsewhere, and what you all are learning from them.  One of the things that surprised me was the sheer number of people who showed up for the tour.  What was even more surprising was that there was enough such sizable audience to support several more of the tours this summer.  Happily for all of us here in Brooklyn, there are monthly tours in Prospect Park through the end of the year (though I’m sure each is unique and worth checking out, given the movement of seasons).

So, revel friends, I am definitely looking for feedback on all things wildly edible outside the great Northeast (or even outside nyc for that matter).  Perhaps what got me thinking about this is an announcement on a podcast late last week: http://www.thesurvivalpodcast.com/episode-702-chef-maribel-the-food-diva.  It occurs early in the podcast (fair warning – the whole podcast is rather lengthy but an entertaining listen if you’re inclined), and announces that a town in Michigan is trying to ban a resident’s vegetable garden in her front yard.  From what I can tell, she’s not growing lewd zucchinis — it’s just that there’s some ancient regulation about only permitting “suitable” gardens visible to the rest of the world.  I didn’t hear any quick follow up on today’s podcast but the link above gives a rally cry for anyone wishing to give Michigan a piece of their gardeners mind.  I’ll let you know if I place a call tomorrow.

In the don’t be meantime, please pass around my

QUESTION: for residents outside the greater NY area, are there any Wildman equivalents in your neck of the concrete woods?  How about for non-urbanites?  Are wild edibles passe for you country folk?  Or are there tours and meetups and affinity groups for all you all too?  Anyone care to share some stories of their own adventures in foraging?  We would love love love to hear a review of any other wild edibles tours going on across the country.  Go ahead: Austin, Beloit*, Chicago, Detroit, Eden Prairie, Fargo, Grand Forks (anyone tell I’ve got family in ND?), Honolulu, Independence, Janesville, Kansas City, Lexington, Madison, Niagara Falls, Orfordville (anyone tell I’m from WI?), Potters Grove**, Quakertown, Reno, Seattle***, Tupelo, Universal City, Vancouver, Wichita****, Xenia, Yellowstone, Zion … Gimme the dirt!!!

*Boston, you almost made the cut.  This was a hard one because you’re so irresistible for so many reasons, not which of least that you rhyme with Austin.  But you’re not my hometown.  Sorry, you’re just not.

**Phoenix, I thought of you too.  Pasadena, you too (and I do hope to see you someday soon).  But, Potter’s Grove … how could I resist?  It just doesn’t get the attention it deserves anymore.

***I also thought of you, St. Paul, St. Louis and San Francisco.  I just always wanted to go to Seattle so I thought I’d send her a little shout out here.  You do still have my heart, SP, SL, & SF.  And you’re just so saintly.  You’re number 1 in my book.  Just not in this list.  sorry.

****Weehawken, I love you too.  You’ve always been there for me.  And you really are very awesome, even being in New Jersey and all.  We’re just a little close, you know.  And Wichita has just been sitting out there waiting for so long now.  I knew you’d understand.

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Wild Edibles – Tour Highlights

I missed a Steve Brill/wild edibles tour in Prospect Park today but will try to catch one again in August.  Like most things gardening related, I imagine it requires more than once to get the hang of it and put what you’ve learned to good use.  Just one tour, like many things the first time around, can be fun and kind of thrilling, and leave you with plenty to mull over, but it gets better the more often you do it.  The Wildman, himself, warns that you shouldn’t be putting things in your mouth you aren’t certain of and that if there’s any question, better to leave it alone.  Sound advice, imho.  (I just realized that what precedes this could be misinterpreted by a certain contingent of my readership — if that’s you, get your head out of the gutter and put your hands in the dirt).

Since I missed the tour today, I thought I might finally get around to ticking off my to-do list a post that I’ve been meaning to bring you for awhile.  It’s highlights from the last tour I went on in June.  To anyone who might be considering it, I would highly recommend the tour.  Set aside about four hours and $20.00 for it — the $20.00 is just a suggested donation anyway (although I certainly suggest donating the full amount — it’s money well spent).  In addition to spending several hours wandering through gorgeous nature, meeting several very cool people, eating some yummy wild food, and beginning to learn how to identify that yummy wild food, Steve Brill is pretty entertaining and keeps the tour interesting.   He’s a funnily curmudgeonly type, eager to make kids laugh and adults chuckle with some well-practiced lines.  (One of his jokes did go amusingly awry when, drawing the listener in with an increasingly hushed voice, he delivered the punchline in a booming voice without realizing that just behind him was a baby who quickly stole his thunder by breaking into a wail that only a seriously stressed baby can deliver).  Who wouldn’t love a man who saves the corniest of jokes to ply you with as you’re eating your way through a forest.  (Yes, pun intended — and a nod to the Wildman, since this is exactly the type of groaner you might hear on one of his tours.)

If you’re not up for the stream of one-liners that are tucked into some very useful information the Wildman dispenses on the journey, you can keep your own pace (which is another thing I appreciated about the tour, and which sets it apart from most other tours).  It’s recommended you bring a whistle in the event you get separated from the others; lacking a whistle (and being laughably bad at whistling without one), I brought a harmonica but didn’t end up needing it.  There are some helpful pointers on the website and in his book Identifying and Harvesting Edible & Medicinal Plants, that helpyou prepare for a foraging tour, including, for example, spraying your clothes with insect repellent and wearing white, which repels bees – this is why beekeepers wear white – and makes ticks more visible.  The book, and I’m sure pointers from those who have gone on a tour (see QUESTION below), also help you know what to bring and how to get the most from the tour.  I brought several plastic baggies, a few hard plastic containers, and post-it notes, a pen, a notebook, and my phone for snapping pics of the plants.  I found the hard plastic containers to be pretty useless and wish I would have saved the space.  I did end up using the plastic baggies (I should have brought many more, since I ended up having to store several different plants together and if the post it at the base of them came loose, I didn’t know chickory weed from jewel weed).

The tour is popular.  I shared it with about thirty other people, ranging in age from 6 months up, representing what appeared to be a broad cross-section of Brooklyn’s population.  There were couples, a few single individuals, and a family or two.  The group gathered for a sign-in that took about twenty minutes (a long time, I know, but it involved Wildman doing a roll call, having people sign waivers, and offering for sale and/or autograph his own impressive collection of books that he’s authored and which he, equally impressively, has illustrated).  He is a self-taught both as a botanist and artist, which is especially encouraging since it can seem impossible at the outset to ever be able to master the task of distinguishing an edible plant from a deadly one.  Although he is quick to caution the eager tourists, he nonetheless makes it seem a reachable goal to sustain yourself, if need be, on a diet of wild edibles.  He also offers quick advice on how to prepare each plant he covers, some of which I’m sure are in his cookbook (which I don’t have but someday may, once I’m able to tell the difference between a chickory weed and jewel weed without to the book, and the app (“Wild Edibles”), with its “important disclaimer” that I’m pretty sure I can guess what it says, or the pack of Wild Edible cards that I picked up in the shameless promotion start of the tour (disclaimer – Wildman did say that someone else made the cards).

In addition to the specific plants we reviewed, I picked up a few tidbits that are generally good to know.  In this category:

1.  Birds are flying dinosaurs – berries are brightly colored so birds can find them and help themselves.

2.  Just about all plants have some level of toxin in them.  That toxicity is to ward off predators.  To humans, it’s only dangerous if we eat it in massive quantities that no one ever would.

3.  It’s wise to cook all mushrooms – wild, raw, or not.

Some of the plant varieties we plucked, tasted, and took home include (disclaimer – the links that follow are not from Wildman, except for the one on chickweed, but are included to show some additional sources of info on the topic): quickweed, hedgemustard, mugwort, wild cherry tree, wood sorrel, honewort/wild chervil, chickweed, … more to come …

 

QUESTION: have you ever eaten anything in the “wild” and gotten sick?  What was it?  How old were you, and did you learn your lesson?  Or do you still pop random weeds when you think no one is looking?  Go ahead .. gimme the dirt!

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