Bleeding hearts

Bleeding hearts seems like an appropriate flower for these times. 

Perhaps you too are taking out all of your anxieties in plants; the one plus side of the last three months being that many of us are going to have our best gardens ever. As I read about more and more continuing stories of brutality and unrest, a woman who's car is surrounded by ten officers who beat the windows out before pulling her out by her hair in Chicago, an old man pushed aside and bleeding out of his ears--my peas have no idea how many emotions I am trellising alongside them. 

Yesterday I came across this very thoughtful article "Making peace in inner city Oakland, one block at a time" by John Dear. Peace. It reminded me so much of an interview I did in college with the founder of a community garden in Pomona, CA which was created in response to a child, not yet in school, who was killed in the crossfire of rivaling races. This was in the same neighborhood as my middle school. I think it was then I became committed to gardens as a place for social justice as well as eco-justice. I knew I would somehow incorporate gardens into my graduate work. 

From the article, “To be a presence of peace and nonviolence in the neighborhood, …means going deep into contemplation and connection with the earth, especially if you live in the inner city”

...

I no longer live in a city. And besides our local small University my region is depressingly homogenous. For the first time in my life I understand how it is even possible for 75% of white Americans to have 0% of their friends be a minority ethnicity.  We (collectively)need some new friends y'all. If our social circles were a plant they would be something like bermuda grass: homogenous, boring, pervasive, obnoxiously exclusive, and unsustainable. 

"We want to take down the physical fences in the neighborhood and the fences in our hearts, because we know our real security is not in our fences or the bars on our windows, but in our relationships. This is the way to peace. We have misguides warrior energy in our neighborhood(s).  Our young people are fighting and dying to protect their 'turf.' We want to suggest that the turf is the earth. These young people are our future and we need to invest in them. That means redirecting their 'warrior' energy toward fighting for and protecting both open space in our neighborhood, so we can grow food locally..."

During this time when no one was visiting, a new friend and I keep leaving pots on each other's porches. She has things I need. I grew things she wants. My daughter and I leave plants as presents for people we are missing. My church is also using this time to double down on their community garden. (A garden is something I see as an essential requirement to joining a church). They hope to bring more joy and make a dent in self-sufficiency for food security for those for whom this time has brought financial insecurity. I hope in this way the future is going to pot-- tiny little sprigs of hope being disseminated to all the nooks, crannies, and cracks where they are needed most.

Every few weeks my friend and neighbor brings me eggs. The church gardener though is the only other visitor I have had. Cheerfully he leaves seeds, plants, and a bountiful amount of compost. He knows, and I'm re-learning, again and again, that with intention, with cultivation, beautiful things can grow from all of this rotten stuff. 

Rainbow out car window on the way to Lake Superior

The Great Big Virus and the Teeny Tiny House

Story by Hannah Harder
Sculptures and photos by Hannah and Cali, age 8

Once, in this time, the people moved very fast. They were always going somewhere, in their cars, or on their planes, or by their fastest trains. They liked to be loud. They liked to be around other people. Often they went to school, or work, or parties, or parks.

Until one day, there was a virus. 
It was a sickness smaller than a smidge,
or a speckle, 
or a speck. 

It was smaller than a sprinkle.

It could stick to people and make them sick. Some people would cough very hard. Some people wore masks to help people stay well. 

Most people would get better, but some people would not. The virus stuck to people and travelled very quickly around the whole world. It spread in a GREAT BIG WAY. Soon it was in nearly every country on earth.

People stopped going to school. And then to parties. And eventually to parks. Some people couldn't see their grandmas and grandpas. Some people cried. Sometimes, it was grown ups. 

The world felt very very quiet. More quiet then it had ever been.

In this great big world there was a teeny tiny house.  

In this teeny tiny house, they needed things to do. They did things that made them happy. They got busy painting, and knitting, and reading. They made music. They started playing catch more often with their brothers and sisters.

They did things to make more beauty throughout their house.

 They brought in and brought out flowers. 

They remembered to take comfort in other creatures.

 

They spent more time in the kitchen. 

They drank more coffee and tea. 

They sat down and finished every cup. 

They made delicious and healthy food. 

They celebrated with cupcakes and candy. 

Once, they even made a triple decker chocolate cake with flowers and blue frosting. 

IT WAS AMAZING!

They started seeds, and made a garden. 

They made a tree house with a rope ladder and TWO swings. 

Best of all, in this house the fire never stopped going. 

The fish never floated. 

The candy never disappeared,

 

AND the ice cream never melted.

After awhile, the world felt a teeny tiny bit less lonely. 

Spring is not cancelled!

Spring is not cancelled-- and I am indescribably grateful. That message was on the placard when I pulled up to pick up my drive-by order at a local greenhouse. And while I'm hoping to add more native plants in the very near future, today I was thankful for these bright be-speckled spots smiling at me. To be able to add some color into a world that has been gray, to be able to feel my fingers again, and give some purpose to a heart that has been grieving. I'm grieving over the loss of my mom about two months ago and for a deeply declining father. He is now trapped in a nursing home that is COVID positive. I am grieving for complexities that have spanned generations and for prayers that will go unanswered. I am drifting.

And in this sea of pandemic, I am sure that you are too. For people that we can't see, for jobs intercepted, for freedoms we can't have (some that may not be ever fully restored), for timelines we can't know, for paychecks not given, for gatherings we can't have, for love we can't give--for lives overturned.  Lives are not the only thing being lost. A pinnacle was hearing today about a young special needs child who can no longer see her speech therapist who had been working with the child on swallowing therapy, because the therapist was not deemed an essential worker. Now the child can't eat and had to be moved back onto a feeding tube. Everyday new stories. Sure, progress. But, also, progress?! We regress. 

I digress, but I don't want to, from all of those things that we need to keep us human. 

I am reaching out to give you a hug. A real one.

And maybe some seeds or plant starts. 

And the joy of a new flower turning towards the sun. 

Textures for ten

Today started out with some significant yelling. The world is overwhelming right now, for grownups as well as kids. You have permission to hold space for that emotion too. For yourself. For others.  I took myself for a long walk in the woods to calm down. A grown up time-in nature instead of time out of my own head meeting other people's expectations. Sometimes noticing all that is going on outside of yourself is a good way to refocus and remember that we are only very small and insignificant cogs in a much greater machine. When the panic or anger rises inside of you, have you ever tried the focusing exercise to find five things for each of your senses? Grounding. That's what we are all trying to do right now. 

I started  thinking about one of my daughters current art assignments to find many different textures. I decided I was going to see what  I could find. I was really mad, so five anything would definitely not be enough. While the human world feels imploding from this crazy, but also infinitely fascinating virus, the rest of the world moves on. The world though, it's there, offering its gifts, whether or not we chose to look for the blessings. Here the world is getting ready for spring. There are hints of colors popping out. The daffodils and crocus are on the cusp of unfurling. We counted four birds nests. I'm grateful that if we must be in a pandemic, here this one is happening at the beginning of spring and not the beginning of winter. I'm glad that for the most part things are emerging more than they are dying. Today I found what I think was a turtles nest, exciting because I have never found one before; but all of the shells were cracked. The cosmic significance of that was overwhelming. Still, though, beauty in brokenness. 

The weather was amazing and finally warming. I can feel my fingers! I came home and the first of the seeds we planted is opening. Which, even when home, I never feel confident that step will come. I'm like Toad in Arnold Lobel's "The Garden."  "Now seeds start growing!" I spend a lot of time shouting at things, that maybe I should be singing too.  It's hard to have faith in things beneath the surface. I too feel like everything requires my oversight, presence, and management. I took out more rage on dirt clots. I mixed and filled pots. I moved compost.  I try to trust in the mighty powers of the microbial world. Like toad, I too must start what I can, and then walk away. Soil from refuse. Seeds from soil. Soon. 

Strength in Spring

Thursday was the first day of spring. Hurray for glimpses of dawn, wherever we can find them.  Day 9 of official pandemic. Lots of things in the world are bleak, AND not immediately going to get better, but I don't need to tell you that. But friend, dear ones--remember Aslan's montage of "Courage, Dear Heart(s)." 

Right now, this week planting seeds seemed like both the simplest and one of the most important things I have ever done. Here in eastern Wisconsin, where our frost date can be quite the gamble, the fact that most things can now be begun indoors (skip the squash, melons and tomatoes) was a grace. Cali helped and she's been very dutifully watering them. She did say that, "it's much better to plant seeds because then you get to watch them the whole way, otherwise you are just watching them go in the ground. I'm trying to be a better, more attentive gardener and learn from past mistakes. So here's some tips I'm incorporating if you want to plant along. Also, start SOON. I'm already encountering multiple seed sites that are selling out or partially or totally closed. 

Tip 1: Buy/swap great seeds

Here are some great options: 

https://gardentowerproject.com/product/garden-towers-container-seeds-collection/ (Great starter variety pack)

https://www.kitchengardenseeds.com/seed-index/collections/itty-bitty-veggie-garden.html (Really fun later season for small spaces and containers)

https://sustainableseedco.com/products/grannys-garden-seed-collection?variant=3719682850856 (For heirlooms) 

Tip 2: Paper towel pre-sprout

I'm trying this this year, after already having started many of my seeds but this is genius. The easiest way to kill your seeds is in those first few weeks when they dry out or mold. 

Tip 3: Sprinkle don't soak

For those first few weeks when your seeds are extra vulnerable try a squirt bottle instead of a watering can. You don't want them to get too wet and rot. 

Tip 4: Good potting mixture

There's lots of ways to go about this and it's true that vermiculite and peat are not the most ecological sources. Coconut fibers also travel a long way. However, these things are readily available at garden stores and not bad choices for beginners or quick starts. However, I'm also hoping to add this local moss product to help protect against fungal action in trial this year-- also super curious how this works out ecologically. It’s also cheaper to buy (if you don't have any available) and mix compost and topsoil with a small amount of sand. You can also plant in bags of topsoil directly. 

Tip 5: Grow lights

If starting indoors, don't skip this step. I'm trying out these.

Tip 6: Starter pots

There have been years when I have made pots out of toilet paper rolls or newspaper. While your kids are out, it could give them something to do. Perk is that you can start your seeds in bigger pots. However, the trays with the lids are convenient and do help keep good humidity. 

Tip 7: Grow up not out

There are lots of ways to accomplish vertical gardening, but when you get ready to transplant, (or you live some lucky place that is already warm enough to direct sow, growing up helps to maximize space and sometimes reduces pests, or allows for more intensive plantings.  

What are you planting? How are you growing hope?

Curbside Veggies. In Arkansas?!

This is not a post about frugal living. Nor is it about Oklahoma, although very close to us. This is about accidentally discovering a place that is a gem of a sustainable restaurant model where veggies are vogue. Last weekend we went to a family wedding in Fayetville, Arkansas. And thanks to Urban Spoon, I stumbled upon a little green restaurant called The Greenhouse Grille. The building was actually green and it was very near to the University on one of the busiest streets in town in one of the most modern and chic shopping centers in town. No wasted space here. Even their green islands in their parking lot were overflowing with edibles. (This is also an important type of space cities need to utilize as bioretention sites to prevent waste water runoff in parking lots)

Their front space was not adorned with purposeless plants like Asian bradford pears or azaleas but with strawberries bounding out to greet me, asparagus crowns towering up, fennel fanning out, parsley making a landing pad for sleepy butterflies, and Swiss chard sporting it's rainbow style. Their side space had more veggies and peas dutifully standing at attention and in the back they had several raised beds about fifteen by four inside of a mini hoop house. Let's go back to these gardens of yore because doing so would be really a victory. Wow! Talk about curb appeal, talk about fresh to my plate. This is the kind of thing I have read about at sites like Alice Waters Chez Panisse world famous restaurant and would encounter snippets of when I lived in Santa Barbara, but to see such a restaurant model in the mid-west in an area dominated by businesses making everything bigger and outsourced from as far as possible- one does clucks and one is the biggest retail world within our world-was refreshing.

Additionally Greenhouse Grille sources their meats, veggies, and grains from other local producers. Including the War Eagle Mill, which is an outstanding historical fieldtrip in itself. They also actively work to support local musicians and to abate local hunger in an area that is cursed with simultaneously being the richest and the poorest region in Arkansas. And what better way to abate hunger than to start from the ground up. And yet, many cities outlaw front yards that could contribute to the hunger solution or provide an ecological stopover for native birds and butterflies. Our cousins outside of Joplin told me that their mowing ordinance is to keep their grass at one inch or less- oy!

Does your city allow veggies to be front and center in urban landscapes, yards, and businesses? Do you and your city use your urban land to it's maximum potential, especially as one acre of viable farmland is lost every minute to urban sprawl in this country? What acts of gardening civil disobedience have you or your neighbors performed secretly or overtly? How do we tell our city commissioners and home owner's associations that we deserve the freshest food for our forks and spaces reclaimed from the tyranny of bermuda grass and japanese honeysuckle?

Tell them we need veggies front and center.

Garden Folk

 

A couple of Saturdays ago I got to be on the other side of the table at a Farmer's market event at the Oklahoma City Oklahoma Food Cooperative store. For the first time I was there as a vendor. Wow! What a beautiful day doing business the way it was done for many years at this location in it's prime. Getting to know these farmers and regular variety garden folk was really touching to me. Plants make people happy, pure and simple. And I got to give part of that happiness. I was there selling cards and garden seeds but I got to sit next to the plant people- those who know hospitality, heirlooms, and handshakes.

 

My newly found friends are amazing. My friend Dev Vallencourt and her husband Kip Francis at High Tides and Green Fields grows 147 different varieties of peppers. Pretty sure you will never see a tenth of that many varieties in any grocery store. She also was teaching me about some innovative (or perhaps wise, antiquated ways) she has begun to grow winter crops in hugelkultur method from Germany that creates so much heat by planting on top of old wood that she was able to grow crops all winter long, uncovered.

I met a young farmer, Samantha Lamb who was managing a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) endeavor on her grandparents homestead in the Medicine Park area. I met Michael Ruzycki who is farming and hosting a store in Choctaw, The Veggie Lounge who said he started because he was always amazed at how much leftovers his grandfather always had from his garden. Two other guys have started an event composting and zero waste company, Fertile Ground in Oklahoma City. Others, like Renrick farms are working diligently to provide more drought tolerant, native, and butterfly loving flowers. Double R farms  was there  selling pastured lamb and eggs and Barb was trying to figure out what growing things looks like in Oklahoma after living for years in Alaska. There was experience and there was youth, but above all there was energy. Urban Agrarian hosts an all local market five days a week and their staff was busily working indoors sorting crates of tomatoes and processing local foods from all over into a wide assortment of baked goods while the old dog swatted flies with his tail on the porch. While we sat in our store outdoors community organizers from a "Better Block" project had gathered and were literally painting the town- covering over years of neglect and breaking ground for new beginnings.  

And then there were the customers. The lady who got a "pet" fern. The radiant Reverand who had been healed from a stroke. Everybody who marveled over how strawberries grow. Those whose garden was an epic fail last year, but they were trying again because they were determined to get their eight year old to like vegetables. And then the lovliest of my day, a young girl who had just come from a workshop where she had made a planter box a few inches wide by about three inches deep. She was absolutely bursting to find a way to plant things. No one had showed her the dirt in her own yard. She was so enthusiastic she could have made seeds sprout just by sheer wish. "I just want to grow something I can eat she told me." So we made a deal and I sold her two packets of lettuce and peas... And, hopefully, a share of the garden.

The Book of Bob

My friend Bob Waldrop is equal parts John the Baptist and John Muir-he is a voice crying out in the wilderness. A voice for wilderness spaces and a voice against the wilderness of conglomerate agrobuisness. He is a burly guy with a bushy beard that hasn't been trimmed in decades and equally likely to say things like "ya all bon appetite ya hear" or to curse under his breath.

The Bob Waldrop

John Muir. Wilderness Warrior. Photo public domain. (Don't you think they could be related?)

When I first moved back to Oklahoma nearly ten years ago he was probably the first person and the most dedicated that I met towards the goals of living a sustainable lifestyle. If you drive by his house it is probably the first one on his street that has no grass in the front lawn (Hurray for the grassless lawn!) but is filled to the brim with edible plants including native elderberries long before front yard gardening was the in vogue thing to do. And I have been quietly watching and learning from him for quite a long time.

Bob is the one who is continually fighting for anti-mowing laws which unnecessarily prevent habitat from being made, wildflowers from being planted, or more native and drought tolerant grasses from being encouraged. While one might be inclined to write him off as an eccentric hippie, he is tremendously wise.

Founder of the, then very new Oklahoma Food Coop he has been a great voice for local farmers, producers, and artists. He understands community and he understands the need for each of us to reduce our global footprint, and for him it is very greatly relevant to his faith. A question I have been plagued with since college is, Why isn't sustainability at the forefront for ALL faith communities? And to those that have choosen to make this a front page issue in their church community, my hat to you. Bob was the first person to ever introduce me to the concept of permaculture. And it is just the kind of holistic thinking we need. To learn more about Bob's wise insights into our diminishing energy and water resources check out his blog, Bobaganda!

If you have never heard of permaculture (and don't be surprised if you haven't) it is a holistic way of thinking, designing, and integrating your environmental ideals across multiple areas of your life and your communities (physical places and personal connections). It is about gardening, energy use, homesteading, simplicity, and interconnectedness. It is about examining waste in every sense of the word. It is about making our yards and our households useful and achieving maximum potential. It is all about reducing our need for fossil fuels and stepping back a little from such a global economy.  You know the one that imports peanuts from Africa to make peanut butter in Minnesota to put labels on it in Canada before it is shipped to Arkansas to be distributed to my simple sandwich...

So I was happy, delighted, ecstatic to start working my way through Bob's new ebook ipermie. For $1.99 this 399,000 (very bite-size) work of words deal that you can not beat. It is a workbook, a guidebook, a focal point,  a series of reflections about what matters in your life and how you can make your space (no matter how small) livable and productive. But more so than many, this one give tools particularly to those who are nearly space-less, the student, the elderly, the apartment dweller. And it is about developing the infrastructures around us to support sustainable communities. It is about starting to change your life, one page at a time. Begin today.

Thank you Bob for being a mentor to so many and for being a strong voice for what is right, for justice for others and for our fellow creatures. I can not wait to see how my life will change as I continue to delve deeper into the permaculture world.

Butterfly Friendly Perennial Herbs and Herbs de Provénce

So, what do butterflies have to do with dinner? So glad you asked. As they come and pollinate my flowers, I'd like to think we have a bit of a mutualistic relationship going on. I garden for them, they come for me and my herbs and vegetables.

As most of the summer plants will soon begin to die, and since plants are always on my brain, I start thinking hard this time of year about about useful multi-purpose perennials, which can be well established before next year and which can spring up for the earliest spring color.

Herbs are a great money saver and many are great butterfly host and nectar plants. Fennel, in particular will attract many of the majestic different swallowtail species.

It's not too late to establish some of these from plants or too early to start their seeds in the refrigerator or prepared ground for cold stratification.

Here are some butterfly friendly perennial herbs you might consider with a suggested variety:

Male black swallowtail butterfly. State butterfly of Oklahoma. From Wikimedia commons.

Creating a "Farm City": A responsive book review

Recently, kind of by accident, I had the pleasure of discovering and meeting Novella Carpenter.  I was so impressed with her book Farm City: The Education of an Urban Farmer

and can't wait to visit and revisit her new book The Essential Urban Farmer. I was impressed at her poetry and honesty about the realities of raising and butchering animals. And the whole thing combined with my reading of Green Metropolis had me wishing for a Utopia in which city dwellers can only have yards if they will relegate and utilize them for something with ecological usefulness: habitat, water purification, food sources for local organisms, or food production by themselves or their green thumb neighbors. [Update: For a good laugh, go here to see what God might think of your yard] Everyone else must live in hip urban apartments...One can wish.

Remember the chickens, in the study?

E,

This week I’m thinking about eggs and urban farm animals. Remember when I hatched chickens--in our study? Of course you do. Well, it seemed like a good idea... The local extension agency (bless them!) provides educators with incubators and eggs from one of those mega chicken conglomerates, they which shall not be named (see any resemblance to Lord Voldemort?). 

There was me with fifteen eggs and an incubator exuberantly ready to do what I had always wanted but never gotten to do. We plugged it in and dutifully added water for 21 days. Every day I anxiously checked the window. Were they turning alright? Would they have enough moisture? Would any live or would I have to break it to my children and all their friends that I was in fact a mass chicken killer? (Stop chuckling).  

The first day of cracks I sat immovably for hours. (I was equally transfixed only  at the New Orleans aquarium watching a father seahorse, belly heaving, wondering if I was about to witness birth). Birth is a crazy, slow and exhausting process. Slowly a beak; an eye; a pulse through a hole; a wing. Then, wonder of wonders, twelve little damp feathered peeping (and pooping) hatchlings.