Tuesday, March 3, 2015

The Garden as Metaphor

My husband and son are sleeping, bellies full of braised beef and cabbage from our farm. Tomorrow’s pot of beans sits next to a rattling teakettle on the wood stove. As my favorite cup gets filled with Light of Day tea, I look forward to my writing assignment: How do we apply permaculture to our lives? I sense that my first two sentences have already begun to answer that question. (See article and more at https://healingtreefarm.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/permprogress2.pdf).

                                            Exactly a year ago my husband was recovering from cancer surgery. (He's
cancer-free now).

During that time we met "the look" with a practiced response.
"No, you're thinking of somebody else. That's not our story." 

Cancer wasn't the story. It was just a backdrop to the real story, a story about community.


I feel the same way about Permaculture. It's the backdrop to the story, not the story itself.  The real story is about the people, the work, the projects, the yields. It too is a story about communities.

I attended a Permaculture Design Course (PDC ) in February of 2010 because I wanted to learn how to be a better steward of our land.  It became apparent that the land was a metaphor in the framework I was learning. This was about whole systems thinking and decision-making. It was about designing solutions that could be applied liberally and universally. The take-away was a neural App, of sorts. The PDC training was the installation and initial tutorial of this App. It was up to me to learn and master how to apply it.


    
   What does the land want to be? 
The very first place this new application showed up was in a farm business planning class. After 10-weeks I proudly presented a blank sheet of paper.

It represented the realization that we should immediately stop trying to impose our business ideas upon this land. That maybe the best thing we could do was step outside, observe and ask the land what it wanted to be. What would happen if we allowed the land to make all the decisions about the size, the species, the carrying capacity and the type of farming we would do?

Yes, I drank the Kombucha.

Mistakes and an interview with PDC teacher,  Larry Santoyo helped keep it real. When pressed to define permaculture in an elevator speech lasting three floors, Larry flatly stated  “ I would get out on the next floor; I’d get the hell out of the elevator.” Later in the interview he defines Permaculture by what it is not. "So what, if it's a platinum LEED certified building [if] it's in the wrong place?!"  http://www.thepermaculturepodcast.com/2013/larry-santoyo/.

That's when I made the decision to let the work do the talking. By work, I mean the internal as much as external.

What happens when we read the patterns of our inner landscape? For me this has led to increasing clarity about the particular niche I occupy in this oddball polyculture I find myself. My default activity is holistic designing. Whether it's an image for a salon client, a master plan for a planning commission, a garden or any other desired outcome, that's what I do.  Whether interpreting the pattern in a cloud formation, the land or the bass line in a Motown R&B tune. 

Paul's default activity is playing in the background. He's always laying down the bottom, looking for the pocket.  

And at 17, it would be easy to say that Avery's default activity is texting! Raising a child is like reading a great novel. Only in retrospect do you see the foreshadowing. 

In the current chapter, my hero has had a powerful shift in his inner landscape. His heart broke open by a classmate's death, in the aftermath rose a clear decision to become a Navy Air Rescue Swimmer, "So Others May Live".  After the initial shock came the unmistakable recognition of that foreshadowing and existing pattern all along.

And so I pick up all these contrasting threads,  the warp and weft of all these roles and connections,  and
try to weave them into a tapestry.

The strongest thread is agricultural and connected to this land, this place. lt weaves over our family dinner table and under other tables, over the health of the land and under the health of the community; over  our livelihoods and under a local economy, over a master plan and under a zoning ordinance, over farm and food system projects and under a viable rural economy. This is social and financial permaculture letting the work do the talking. 


Brush removal
Some practical examples of the letting the work do the talking on our farm can be seen in the techniques used to establish a new garden area. After a site and sector analysis, we chose a spot that was overgrown with brambles and saplings. Our goats were more than happy to provide brush removal services while we did other things. 

Rototillers
The next crew had a blast digging up roots and rototilling the manure, bedding and fall leaves, making compost onsite. Unlike a rototiller, they are a renewable resource. Unlike a rototiller they gifted us with bacon. Among the ways I am able reconcile this as a recovering vegetarian is by remembering that none of us gets out alive. I honor their lives so full of joy and purpose, in service to others. Living this close and connected to a place and the circle of life within it has a moral and spiritual value inexplicable to the disconnected. 

Another technique successfully implemented was using water harvesting swales to solve long standing flooding issue while passively watering a productive array of edible perennials.

The garden and the landscape are fitting metaphors for life.

Day after day we strive to remove the 'brambles' to create something intentional. As humans in succession on this landscape, we have slipped past the pioneering phase and are looking toward the next stage of succession. 


What will it bring?


I think we know the drill:


observe...


interact...


watch for the pattern


to emerge. 







Thursday, May 8, 2014

Springy Things & Upswings


Today I went foraging for breakfast. Inspired by a recipe in Edible Grand Traverse magazine for poached eggs over wilted greens, I began in the garden where I found overwintered gifts of spinach, kale, parsley, onion tops and lettuce. 

As I snipped the bright green spinach leaves, they were as buoyant as the mood overtaking us overwintered humans at this time of year.

Grocery store produce does not have that same quality, that same feeling between my fingers of ... what's the right word?

“Springy-ness” comes to mind. 

"Life force” jumps in next. These freshly-picked greens have a spirit that has long left the body of standard grocery store fare. 

It feels so good to be in the garden, I regret that my first cup of coffee wasn't enjoyed here.  Alas, table and chairs are still hibernating in the barn.  I mentally add this to the task list I’m preparing for my brief reign on Mother’s Day. 

Scanning the other beds I snip only the green tops of onions. The sight of soggy bulbs would spoil this reverie and I have already had to block the image of the cat's gift on the pathway. 

Today's remains were a robin's in the exact location as yesterday's field mouse. I'm am struck by a mulitple gratitudes: for the cat's gesture and ingenuity, the absence of house mice and the wheel of life that spins this little farmstead. 

A quick lap around the yard yields a fistful of dandelion greens and daffodils.

Back at the kitchen I run icy cold water over my bounty, quickly sealing some for a vase and a pot. I amuse myself over the thought that I just poached some water to poach an egg poached from the chickens.

In the time it takes for the pot to boil on our old electric stove, I can journal in front of an audience of approving daffodils. 

I couldn't ask for a better start to the day. 

And I couldn't ask for a better life than living year-round in Benzie County. 

Don't tell anyone. 

I am not a proponent of a year round economy. 

I love the seasonal swings; 

the abundance and the dormancy;

the wittling down of non-essentials

to the essentials. 

I glance out the window 

to see if the emerging green has begun to block my view of the Betsie River

One of winter’s many gifts. 

It’s hard to tell without the contrast of white snow, 

and for a nano-second I miss it.









Saturday, March 29, 2014

Let The Great World Spin


Deja vu at the Cabbage Shed. Bodies crammed on the dance floor shaking the joint.  The two of us on stage together.

http://youtu.be/ngfqIHJlI1A



My biggest concern wasn't screwing up the chords or the lyrics (I already knew I was going to do that.) I was just hoping to grope my way back into 'the zone'.

All of this was happening in a fundraiser on our behalf.  Soon after Paul's cancer diagnosis,  I received a call from our dear friend Kelly Luedtke. She wanted to cash in a 'credit' she had with musician Jake Allen to host a fundraiser for Paul. The Luedtke and May families have a deep, multi-generational connection. And Kelly's brother, Kim Fairchild, was itching to make Cincinatti Chili for a crowd.  So Kelly was joined by Anna Mallien,  Monica Evans and DeAnne Loll and a wonderful name emerged: Let the Great World Spin!

Here's what Paul had to say about the Jake Allen Band: "They're as fearless as they are talented - and familiar with their parents' record collections!"
































Jake Allen https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SO4PPGzX_ns    






























Their set was followed by an Open Mic where Paul got to play a few songs with former musician friends. For us, it didn't feel like a fundraiser.  It felt like the good old days when we used to rock this place!








Wednesday, August 28, 2013

350 Dependents

U. of M. Hospital doctors and nurses are a tough crowd. Our jokes about needing to leave so we could tend to our 350 dependents totally bombed. While Paul was hospitalized and over the next few months we knew we would need to rely on the kindness of friends and family to run the farm.

We cut down on the work load by downsizing the homestead livestock populations. The kid goats were shipped off to Carl Zupin's farm, reducing the herd to a manageable two milking does. And the Weed Quackers (ducks in the garden) were ecstatic about the upgrade to Neighbor Dave's pond. 

Fencing Work Bee

Reward: May Farm O-Mega Dogs
The next task was to recruit many hands to make light work of running the farm through the end of the 2013 pasture season (October).

May Farm Help Wanted emails and posts went viral. Volunteers were solicited for 1-2 shifts per week. Fencing and barn cleaning work bees were organized. Sign-up sheets were brought to church. A weekly schedule was posted.

In no time the slots were filled.






Homestead chores commence at 6:30 a.m. and 4:30 p.m. with feeding, watering and milking dairy goats. This is when the barn kitties line up for their freshly squeezed paychecks. 

The milk is either brought into the house to be strained and bottled or put aside to "culture". This  probiotic-infused mixture is added to non-GMO, local chicken feed for extra nutrition. 

A periodic homestead job is feeding and watering 50-75 baby broiler chicks. Multiple times throughout the season we receive a phone call from the post office notifying us when the peeping package has arrived. Like seedlings, the chicks must be "hardened off" for a few weeks before being put on pasture. During that time neighbor Dave Sorensen was the baby chick nursery attendant 7 days a week, twice a day.







Pasture chores include feeding, watering and moving chicken tractors with 50 broiler chckens each. This was 13 year old, Gabe Johnson's summer job. He also fed, watered and collected eggs from 100 laying hens. Gabe lives within biking distance and worked 5 days and 3 evenings each week. However, while Paul was stuck in Ann Arbor he covered every shift, enlisting the help of the Oberski family.


When it comes to the bigger feat of "haying" , watering and moving beef and lambs to a fresh paddock each day, we relied on three "Head Honchos". Charlie McDaniel of Charlie's Natural Food Market had prior experience running his own grass-fed cattle ranch in Africa. Custer Carland would like his own farm someday. Finally our son Avery could usually hoodwink a few of his friends to help out.

The biggest windfall was the arrival of interns Frederik Stig-Nielsen and Betsy Mas sent our way via local artist Mike Farmer. After graduating from law school and signing up for the Peace Corps, they wanted to gain farm experience. They turned to relative Mike Farmer for ideas and joined the ranks of interns who showed up on our doorstep before them, including an Interlochen Arts Academy Creative Writing grad, Ann Richardson, yogini-farmer, Karen Storms-Rohn, a horticulture student/musician, and more. 

All in all, 15 people shared the chores that Paul did 7 days a week, twice a day before and after his supplemental job helping at the small plant where we process our meats. 

I will close with a big Thank You to our farm hands: Custer Carland, Charlie and Wendy McDaniel, Neighbor Dave (Sorensen), Gabe Johnson, John Manrow, Lisa Richter, Renee Herman, Ireland Sutter, Meg Louwsma, Kimm Jayne,  Monica Schultz, Al Flory, Joe Frederick, Ann and Norm Holm, Peg and Wayne Dunn, Lorna Mason,  Judy Bosma, Jim Olsen, Karen Roberts,  Emily Votruba, Anna Sangemino, Avery May, Levi Hubbard, Shayla Soto and other Frankfort youth, Frederik Stig-Nielsen and Betsy Mas families,  Penny Nelson, Alan and Gerry Chinavere, Anne Rogers, Leslie Hamp, Julie Laporte, Erik Kinzinger, Dennis Pace, Thomas Hirsch, Jenn Ryan,  Kimm and Thom Jayne, Rob Burtch, Robin Willband-Snow, Kelly Luedtke, John and Karen Storms-Rohn, John Vinkemulder, Rob Burch, the Gergosians, Kathy Zalar and and uncountable others.





Sunday, August 25, 2013

The May Farm Pilot Pasture Video



The May Farm Pilot Pasture Video

Isaac Ryan McKinnon's mother shared this story with me.

Isaac was complaining.

"Why can't we be normal like other families and have Doritos in the cupboard? 

No one else's parents care about eating healthy food 

or the planet."






"That can't be true," Christina challenged.


"There must be ONE other parent who cares about healthy food and the planet!


"Alright," Isaac conceded, "Avery's mom," adding after further consideration "and Olivia's mom".

Olivia Buzzell and Isaac Ryan McKinnon and Avery May went to the Waldorf-inspired pre-school and early grades program together. 

They all eventually landed at Frankfort schools, lucky to have each other to commiserate with over the shame of Dorito-less cupboards 

and Waldork parents 

who cared too much about healthy food and the planet.

Miraculously, they survived. 

And Olivia, now 16,  made this video about The May Farm.




Oa n d C o . 
OBandCoProductions@gmail.com
YouTube.com/OBandCoProductions Twitter.com/OBandCo Facebook.com/OBandCoProductions
OB and Co. Productions 1716 Pilgrim Hwy Frankfort, MI 49635







Tooth Fairy, Busted


I wasn't there when Paul told Avery about the cancer. 

Naturally, I wondered how he reacted. 

"Well, his face had the same look on it as the day he found out there wasn't a tooth fairy" s

aid the Master of Understatement.  


But then it all came back to me. 

A prominent debate between pre-school Believers and Disbelievers, 

when questioned, I mechanically fell back on my mother's answer. 

"Well, I believe in [fill in the blank] "  

That worked until second grade, 

the day the Tooth Fairy slept in.  

Once busted, she spitefully took down the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus with her.

The whole think fell like Dominoes,

the last one being that parents were Big, Fat, Total Liars.

Recently in a quiet moment Avery shared his perspective about the Cancer. 

I bet it pretty much summed up his take on The Tooth Fairy thing, too.  

"Things are really different now, aren't they?"  

I explained that the good/bad news is that we're not destitute enough to get assistance 

but if we do get destitute, there's assistance. 

That we won't go hungry but may have to acquire a taste for government cheese. 

That we will probably get to keep our house. 

And if we lose it all, we will get to start all over on a New Adventure!







He offered to cover his own expenses, starting with school clothes. 

A few weeks into 16 and he's already supporting himself on a seasonal job at El Berto's Taqueria.

I'm soothed by the gesture and the thought of guacamole until October. 

I think back to how well he manned up to take care of the farm 

for the 3 days his Dad was unexpectedly hospitalized in Ann Arbor. 

A series of unfortunate events unfurled as a consequence:

the cancellation of the final test to get a driver's license; 

and even worse, a ferocious thunderstorm on the pasture that killed his smart phone. 

A 16-year old without a cell phone? 

Spurning our empty house and the law, 

he drove unlicensed to cousin Anna and Zoe's doorstep. 

When Anna called me at the hospital he was snuggled on the couch with Zoe 

and a bowl of chicken noodle soup, 

watching a movie.  

This mother of a law breaker 

breathed a sigh of relief 

and gratitude.