Memorial Day weekend in the country, the summer people have all descended. Folks are out walking, bicycling, boating. We went for a motorcycle ride and saw all the young city families with their well-groomed, apartment-bound kids running around, doing cartwheels (literally), splashing in the river. The most beautiful river-side homes seem to belong to city people. I felt something - not sure what exactly - as we sped by. Something akin to what you feel when you read a John Cheever story, or a James Salter novel. The elegance and sadness of privilege. The fleeting nature of joy, like a weekend.
We stopped by the nursery and J. picked out three trees: a weeping cherry, a Japanese maple, and a crab apple. He planted them all, hard work, digging into that red clay; and it makes me happy to look at them... our investment in the future, in the beauty of this piece of earth.
I planted tomato seedlings, cucumber seeds (green and yellow), zucchini and squash seeds (green and yellow), sweet basil seedlings, and the last of the lettuce and bok choy seeds. I also built the pole bean teepee. We've got a lot growing now, a lot to tend to. I should try to be here as much as possible while the plants are just budding and require lots of regular water and weeding; but the city pulls me back each week. I'll be doing a rain dance from the Bronx.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not
Energy and food crises are finally turning attention toward waste (see Sunday NY Times article on food waste). It takes talent, I’ve realized, to be a good steward of resources, to be creative and smart about recycling and repurposing so that nothing goes to waste. And vigilance, too. We Americans, as a whole, seem to be lacking this talent, mostly because we’ve not been forced to develop it. Once we are forced to, though, it will hopefully become habit.
I’m working on it. Food waste makes me crazy, so I’m paying more attention to quantities – what we buy, what we cook, what we consume, what goes straight to the freezer. Your freezer is your best friend when it comes to food conservation. In the country, we have a compost pile—which also takes talent. Been trying to master the fine art/science of composting, including turning the thing regularly (and banning J. from it, with his manly insistence on throwing hunks of meat and all manner of protein on the pile).
We used to collect kitchen scraps in the city and bring them out with us to the country. But that got sort of icky. In San Francisco, an innovative city-run composting program is getting some attention. How to make it happen in NYC? Garbage disposal is very expensive in NYC, so any financial incentives for people to compost would work, I think. Plus, the city can then sell the compost to small-scale farms and gardeners.
I’m working on it. Food waste makes me crazy, so I’m paying more attention to quantities – what we buy, what we cook, what we consume, what goes straight to the freezer. Your freezer is your best friend when it comes to food conservation. In the country, we have a compost pile—which also takes talent. Been trying to master the fine art/science of composting, including turning the thing regularly (and banning J. from it, with his manly insistence on throwing hunks of meat and all manner of protein on the pile).
We used to collect kitchen scraps in the city and bring them out with us to the country. But that got sort of icky. In San Francisco, an innovative city-run composting program is getting some attention. How to make it happen in NYC? Garbage disposal is very expensive in NYC, so any financial incentives for people to compost would work, I think. Plus, the city can then sell the compost to small-scale farms and gardeners.
It Takes a Village
Making our rounds this weekend, it occurs to me that we've covered our bases in terms of finding suppliers of basic needs out here.
First stop, the saw mill. A reasonable $30/hr rate to plane down some very specialized planks of walnut (eight years old, J. rescued the trunk after the whole tree fell in a hurricane). J. is excited about making furniture.
Second stop, the kennel. Preparing for a week-long trip in June, we found what seems to be a terrific dog-loving place nearby where P. the pup will be well cared for. Everything built for doggie comfort and health (my favorite: a doggie "dry sauna," with very low heat, where they dry off and nap after baths or rainy walks), and also very green (wind power, geothermal wells, etc). D. and K. opened their doors in January, after a long fight with the town council (they've been coming out here for 25 years while working in Manhattan, but there's some animosity about them not being natives). Anyway, a bargain at $20/night.
Third stop, the bakery, currently housed in a little out-building behind someone's house, but moving soon to a larger space in town. Breads, pies, morning pastries, all fresh daily.
Fourth stop, Alice's farm stand, where we get local grass-fed meats (ever had a mutton-burger? YUM) and veges in season. A little pricey for the veges, so it's motivation to work harder at the garden. Also carries eggs and chickens, and cheeses and yogurts from a nearby dairy farm.
Fifth stop, the general store, to pick up mail and browse movie rentals. In the parking lot, J.'s walnut in the back of the pick-up gets a lot of attention, and he gets a rec from T., a local plumber, for someone who might be selling a used table saw. B. and D. are holding back their sweet but high-strung German Shepherd "pup" (he's huge) and mention that they'll be taking him to a week of doggie training. When I ask where, it turns out they're sending him to doggie camp at D. and K.'s kennel.
Last stop, the tennis courts by the river. We hit some balls around then head home, ready to take on chores.
First stop, the saw mill. A reasonable $30/hr rate to plane down some very specialized planks of walnut (eight years old, J. rescued the trunk after the whole tree fell in a hurricane). J. is excited about making furniture.
Second stop, the kennel. Preparing for a week-long trip in June, we found what seems to be a terrific dog-loving place nearby where P. the pup will be well cared for. Everything built for doggie comfort and health (my favorite: a doggie "dry sauna," with very low heat, where they dry off and nap after baths or rainy walks), and also very green (wind power, geothermal wells, etc). D. and K. opened their doors in January, after a long fight with the town council (they've been coming out here for 25 years while working in Manhattan, but there's some animosity about them not being natives). Anyway, a bargain at $20/night.
Third stop, the bakery, currently housed in a little out-building behind someone's house, but moving soon to a larger space in town. Breads, pies, morning pastries, all fresh daily.
Fourth stop, Alice's farm stand, where we get local grass-fed meats (ever had a mutton-burger? YUM) and veges in season. A little pricey for the veges, so it's motivation to work harder at the garden. Also carries eggs and chickens, and cheeses and yogurts from a nearby dairy farm.
Fifth stop, the general store, to pick up mail and browse movie rentals. In the parking lot, J.'s walnut in the back of the pick-up gets a lot of attention, and he gets a rec from T., a local plumber, for someone who might be selling a used table saw. B. and D. are holding back their sweet but high-strung German Shepherd "pup" (he's huge) and mention that they'll be taking him to a week of doggie training. When I ask where, it turns out they're sending him to doggie camp at D. and K.'s kennel.
Last stop, the tennis courts by the river. We hit some balls around then head home, ready to take on chores.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Food
What's happening with food right now is the lynchpin that links city people and country people, all around the world.
As city consumers, we can help set the parameters for what food is grown, and how. Food is something we all consume, our universal connector. Health and a thriving environment are the by-products of how we consume food. The more demand we make for real, healthful food - as opposed to processed, soy-and-corn-syrup based foods - the more of it will be grown. Theoretically.
"Increasingly we can see the wisdom of diversified farming operations, where there are built-in relationships among plants and animals. A dairy farm can provide manure for a neighboring potato farm, for example, which can in turn offer potato scraps as extra feed for the herd...To encourage small, diversified farms is not to make a nostalgic bid to revert to the agrarian ways of our ancestors. It is to look toward the future, leapfrogging past the age of heavy machinery and pollution, to farms that take advantage of the sun's free energy and use the waste of one species as food for another." (Dan Barber, NY Times Op-Ed 5/11/08)
Nature is genius, Nature understands how energy recycles itself symbiotically. Greed, impatience, excessively indulged appetites - these are what threw us off, worldwide. I don't know what's in the mind of farmers, perhaps they felt it was their due to cash in on ethanol as fast as they could; regardless, gigantic subsidized corn-farming is wreaking havoc on both food supply and prices.
City people eat. A lot. Join movements for more small-farm foods, make the consumer demand. Sign petitions to your elected officials when the farm bill comes up, voice against inefficient subsidies which support farming practices that do not benefit health or the environment in the short or long run. Buy real food and cook it. The more diversified farms that can thrive, the more likely you can buy local foods which do not require cross country trucking or international transport (more fuel).
I'm not sure what the right balance is between eating locally and international free trade. If our importing of South American bananas and mangos is helping to keep those countries' economies afloat. The economics of it I find hard to grasp. But at the least, it seems we can buy and eat the foods which grow naturally in our regions from local sources, and learn about the growing practices of the West coast farms from where our oranges come.
It has to get bad enough, I suppose, for the movement towards diversified farms to take a serious turn, and for Americans to change the way we eat and buy food. How bad, I wonder.
As city consumers, we can help set the parameters for what food is grown, and how. Food is something we all consume, our universal connector. Health and a thriving environment are the by-products of how we consume food. The more demand we make for real, healthful food - as opposed to processed, soy-and-corn-syrup based foods - the more of it will be grown. Theoretically.
"Increasingly we can see the wisdom of diversified farming operations, where there are built-in relationships among plants and animals. A dairy farm can provide manure for a neighboring potato farm, for example, which can in turn offer potato scraps as extra feed for the herd...To encourage small, diversified farms is not to make a nostalgic bid to revert to the agrarian ways of our ancestors. It is to look toward the future, leapfrogging past the age of heavy machinery and pollution, to farms that take advantage of the sun's free energy and use the waste of one species as food for another." (Dan Barber, NY Times Op-Ed 5/11/08)
Nature is genius, Nature understands how energy recycles itself symbiotically. Greed, impatience, excessively indulged appetites - these are what threw us off, worldwide. I don't know what's in the mind of farmers, perhaps they felt it was their due to cash in on ethanol as fast as they could; regardless, gigantic subsidized corn-farming is wreaking havoc on both food supply and prices.
City people eat. A lot. Join movements for more small-farm foods, make the consumer demand. Sign petitions to your elected officials when the farm bill comes up, voice against inefficient subsidies which support farming practices that do not benefit health or the environment in the short or long run. Buy real food and cook it. The more diversified farms that can thrive, the more likely you can buy local foods which do not require cross country trucking or international transport (more fuel).
I'm not sure what the right balance is between eating locally and international free trade. If our importing of South American bananas and mangos is helping to keep those countries' economies afloat. The economics of it I find hard to grasp. But at the least, it seems we can buy and eat the foods which grow naturally in our regions from local sources, and learn about the growing practices of the West coast farms from where our oranges come.
It has to get bad enough, I suppose, for the movement towards diversified farms to take a serious turn, and for Americans to change the way we eat and buy food. How bad, I wonder.
Monday, May 5, 2008
What's Growing These Days in the Bronx
On the fire escape, Asian greens are coming up nicely - bok choy, Japanese mustards, gai laan. I'm also sprouting snapdragons for the first time; they're a bit sluggish, but they seem to be reaching for the sun and growing little by little.
Our new super, Z., is well-meaning but apparently not very experienced with plants. He's bought marigolds and something that looks like a mini evergreen for each floor and has set them on the stairwell windowsills with no dishes underneath to catch the water (assuming he will be watering them). Also, the marigolds are mostly sitting in the dark (the stairwells don't catch much light).
I feel sorry for the plants, but not sure how much I can take on to assist; we're still unsure about our future here. An incident involving a chase and a handgun on our block (about 11pm) was recently reported to us by a floor-mate. This neighbor has decided to break his lease as a result--leaving us and one other couple as the only ones remaining from among the original group who moved in when the building was first completed.
Options are slim, though. We're seeking but not finding. And who wants to move. Even with all the hoopla, we kind of like it here. I guess I'll look after the marigold here on floor 3.
Our new super, Z., is well-meaning but apparently not very experienced with plants. He's bought marigolds and something that looks like a mini evergreen for each floor and has set them on the stairwell windowsills with no dishes underneath to catch the water (assuming he will be watering them). Also, the marigolds are mostly sitting in the dark (the stairwells don't catch much light).
I feel sorry for the plants, but not sure how much I can take on to assist; we're still unsure about our future here. An incident involving a chase and a handgun on our block (about 11pm) was recently reported to us by a floor-mate. This neighbor has decided to break his lease as a result--leaving us and one other couple as the only ones remaining from among the original group who moved in when the building was first completed.
Options are slim, though. We're seeking but not finding. And who wants to move. Even with all the hoopla, we kind of like it here. I guess I'll look after the marigold here on floor 3.
We Make Progress
We now have about 80 square feet of vegetable gardens. The new raised beds - three 2'x6'x1' boxes - are ready for planting. We'll wait about two weeks until all danger of frost has passed before we put the tomatoes, zucchini, beans, and cucumbers in the ground.
Last year we built one large plot, 8'x12', using railroad ties to contain the dirt; the railroad ties are incredibly heavy, so we really broke our backs. We also didn't have enough top soil to fill the thing, so we ended up making mounded rows, which are a little unstable and don't quite optimize the space. Finally, the whole plot is situated in partial shade. DUH.
The new beds are in full sun, they are smaller so we can reach all sides; they are full to the top one inch; and they are made out of lightweight 2-by-12's. J. also banged together a sifter, so we've gotten most of the rocks out of the top soil. If things go all right, we'll be able to grow the majority of our vegetables for 5 months out of the year. We're thinking about setting up a germinating system (in the basement?) next year to increase that to maybe 6 or 7 months.
So, we learn and we improve. Also: I had written last year about not being able to change my water filter without J.'s help. I am happy to report that I have done it! With a little creative bracing (my feet up on the wall and my back against the opposite wall), I was able twist the old filter loose and tighten up a new one.
We make progress.
Last year we built one large plot, 8'x12', using railroad ties to contain the dirt; the railroad ties are incredibly heavy, so we really broke our backs. We also didn't have enough top soil to fill the thing, so we ended up making mounded rows, which are a little unstable and don't quite optimize the space. Finally, the whole plot is situated in partial shade. DUH.
The new beds are in full sun, they are smaller so we can reach all sides; they are full to the top one inch; and they are made out of lightweight 2-by-12's. J. also banged together a sifter, so we've gotten most of the rocks out of the top soil. If things go all right, we'll be able to grow the majority of our vegetables for 5 months out of the year. We're thinking about setting up a germinating system (in the basement?) next year to increase that to maybe 6 or 7 months.
So, we learn and we improve. Also: I had written last year about not being able to change my water filter without J.'s help. I am happy to report that I have done it! With a little creative bracing (my feet up on the wall and my back against the opposite wall), I was able twist the old filter loose and tighten up a new one.
We make progress.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Not Fitting In
Every car that drives by my house is a kind of test. Some wave and smile, some stare coldly. These days we're out in the yard for most of the daylight hours, raking or digging or chopping or mowing or resting. Don't know what the talk is, exactly, about the ORIENTALS from the city up on M. Road, but you can bet there's talk.
At the General Store, J. is friendly with R., the patriarch whose son and daughter-in-law and grandchildren are usually around working the register or preparing food. J. is good at that -- acting as if and putting people at ease. Me, I'm sensitive and thin-skinned, I notice how people stop chatting familiar-like when I walk in, especially the guys-with-guns. Roc's daughter-in-law V. is thin and pretty and a firm disciplinarian with her boys and bakes cookies for sale; I've tried to be friendly, but something doesn't quite click, and I think I probably come off like I'm trying too hard. I'm there for a transaction, after all, not to hang out, that much is clear.
I put my hope and faith in time. Hard edges smooth out, people become familiar, one interaction at a time. Maybe we're being watched suspiciously for now, but that's ok, we'll just keep doing what we're doing and hope one of these days they'll just keep on chatting, or that R. will call J. by name, or that we will feel like hanging out.
At the General Store, J. is friendly with R., the patriarch whose son and daughter-in-law and grandchildren are usually around working the register or preparing food. J. is good at that -- acting as if and putting people at ease. Me, I'm sensitive and thin-skinned, I notice how people stop chatting familiar-like when I walk in, especially the guys-with-guns. Roc's daughter-in-law V. is thin and pretty and a firm disciplinarian with her boys and bakes cookies for sale; I've tried to be friendly, but something doesn't quite click, and I think I probably come off like I'm trying too hard. I'm there for a transaction, after all, not to hang out, that much is clear.
I put my hope and faith in time. Hard edges smooth out, people become familiar, one interaction at a time. Maybe we're being watched suspiciously for now, but that's ok, we'll just keep doing what we're doing and hope one of these days they'll just keep on chatting, or that R. will call J. by name, or that we will feel like hanging out.
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