Alive

It is a little after 10pm in my world, but if I were going to guess the time based on how I feel, I would say it has got be be nearing 2am. I spent the day today raking leaves again--shaking out vines impacted with leaves, sweeping layer upon layer of dry leaves off of benches, raking and sweeping piles of leaves into piles and then hauling them off across the yard, through the damp grass, up a slight incline next to the pool cabana at the home I am doing yard work at, past the woodpile, to be deposited atop the ever-growing mountain of leaves that is to become a compost pile. I call it Mount Olympus :-) because as I watch it grow in both height and width, I feel a tremendous feeling of satisfaction. I imagine it is somewhat like what an ant must feel when it moves an entire ant hill from one spot to another, one grain of earth at a time.

I am doing yard work at the home of one of my best friends. One of the benefits of this arrangement is that when I take a break, we get to hang out--have lunch, drink tea, munch on gluten free gingersnaps. It is a pretty sweet deal really. The sky as my office, and one of my best friends as my lunch break companion. I cannot complain.

As I work moving piles of leaves, the landscape around me is changing. I love work that involves physical, visual results daily, and I have to say that although this three-day leaf-raking gig may be sufficient to ward off any desire for golden days of raking piles of rusty, crunchy leaves for a very long time (as in the rest of my life kind of long time), I am really enjoying the physical demands of yard work for these three days. It kind of reminds me of farming in that I have to pace myself, and be consistent. I try to set a pace that I can maintain for at least three hours at a time without keeling over. Once I have been doing daily physical work for a while I can maintain my pace without feeling pain in my body -- I just feel challenged and engaged. But after many months of spending my days writing, my body is feeling the effects of the last two days profoundly tonight. The idea of going back for a third day of yard work makes me want to groan. Not because I do not want to do it-- I very much do, and I know I will enjoy myself once I get started, but getting my sore body up and working hard again for a third day in a row is not going to be easy, I can already tell.

This evening after supper with my friend I headed out to haul the last load of leaves over to Mount Olympus. Darkness was heavy, and the grass whispered against my rubber boots as I pulled the bulging tarp along the ground. In the fading light I became more aware of the sounds of the night -- a family of coyotes out on the prowl were howling and barking nearby. Two lone geese called out as they sailed past above. Crickets throbbed. I stood in the fruit orchard for a few minutes listening to the arrival of the night before turning to go back inside to warm my hands by the heat of the wood-burning furnace and enjoy a hot cup of tea. Walking back to the house, my arms heavy, hair damp with hard work and legs tired, I smiled. I felt deeply happy and content.

My former employer, an organic farmer, told me once that you have to really love farming to be a farmer because it is a hell of a lot of hard work. I have not done any jobs that I have loved as much as working the land. Never felt so challenged and yet so willing to do whatever it took to accomplish my goals for the day. Never has exhaustion felt so good. Sitting inside my friend's house tonight I reflected on how grateful I am for this three-day gig at my friend's house that is demanding that I work the land -- sure, it is not the same as farming, but I have been working with plants, soil and leaves that will be used on my friend's vegetable garden as compost.

It is interesting that we are always placed in the right place at the right time to experience things that remind us what makes us most alive. For me it is the land--an intimate, physical and daily relationship with the soil and plants and the wildlife that live around me. What about you, friends? What makes you most alive?

Monday roots

Things I am feeling grateful for on this gloriously sunny Monday:

1. My volunteer work on the farm, and the opportunity to learn from and with children and youth outside while growing and harvesting organic food.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

2. My partner at crime on the farm, Guy. He is the director of education at Soil Born, and I not only enjoy working with him, I have learned an amazing amount about teaching kids and youth from him over the past seven and a half months.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

This photograph is the property of Ariana Salvo. May not be reproduced without permission.

3. Writing dates with my dear friend and fellow writer, Ahava, who is a creativity and loving inquiry mentor in British Columbia, Canada. You can check her work out here.

4. Artwork. Our house usually has beautiful artwork on all the walls. Since we moved into this new place last summer we had not taken the time to hang all our artwork, and so the house just did not really feel like a home. This past weekend my mother and I fixed this by getting out a hammer and some nails and hanging colour all over our walls. The painting over the fireplace and the one by itself between the two chairs are both the work of my dear friend Louise Mould, back on Prince Edward Island. Aren't they gorgeous?

5. The Mary Oliver poetry reading I went to on Friday. There were close to 600 people there. She is getting rather frail, but once she made it to the podium she was all humour and stories, and inspired us all with her deep enjoyment of the process of sharing her poetry with her audience. She received a standing ovation from us at the end, and had the threatre raise the lights so that she could see all our faces and blow kisses to us. There is something extremely profound about seeing the impact that a writer like Mary Oliver has had on so many lives at this point in her career. It was deeply moving.

6. The grape vineyards of Napa Valley are all making the transition into Fall, the leaves all just starting to tinge red and orange at the edges. Unfortunately I was driving, and my designated photographer had some technical difficulties, but the rolling hills and patchwork quilt of vineyards in the fall were breathtaking.

This morning I woke up and wrote a short little poem as I began my day. I am grateful for the poem, the day, and looking forward to the evening, and the last golden rays that are leaning in my window at an angle now as I type. I will leave you with my little poem. What are you feeling grateful for today, friends?
 

There is something daring about morning sunlight--

The way it blazes unselfconsciously

Full of joy

Down through the layers of Fall leaves, setting every vein on fire,

through windows left unshaded,

its whisper calling out in sing-song tones, asking

What will you create today?

An honest day's work

I spent the day yesterday on the farm. It was SO good to get out there in the sun and get my hands back into the soil. Farming is one of the most fulfilling things I have ever done. One of the reasons is that it is so visual. In a few hours of hard work you go from having soil to having long rows of seeds that have already started turning into a crop. It is incredibly rewarding work. As a Baha'i, one of my beliefs is that work is worship. There is not a day that I spend out on farmland that does not feel like worship.

Yesterday I prepared this bed to plant. This involved flattening out the bed until it was level, marking out my three rows using string with stakes at either end (you would be surprised how hard it is to make a straight row without the string guiding you!), and then creating a shallow trench in the soul with a hoe.

It took me a while to get my rows sorted out, but I was pleased with them.

 

Once I had my rows sorted, divided up my bed into five foot sections. Five feet is an incredibly small amount of space. Back in Canada our rows extended much longer distances. But this is a small garden surrounded by a larger farm, so everything is on a smaller scale.

 Once my bed was divided into sections, I got out my seeds. I planted beets, chard, turnips and mixed greens. When I was farming in Canada I learned that each beet seed actually has two seeds in it. Isn't that cool? In addition to being cool it means that beets have to be well-thinned once they get established to one of the two plants growing in any given spot a chance to really grow. Beets, chard and turnips get planted between 1 and 2 inches apart. Greens can go as much as three seeds per inch. I am enjoying learning US measurements. Having grown up in the Mediterranean, and living in Canada for the last six years, I measure in centimetres, and the folks on the farm here have been well amused by my blank facial expressions whenever they give me instructions that involve measurements. I was grateful that Guy gave me a measuring tape. It was a BIG help!

These are chard seeds. They look a lot like beet seeds though.

 

Can you see my row of seeds? They look kinda like popcorn from this distance. Isn't it incredible that tall green chard stalks are going to emerge from those tiny things? 

I planted the greens last. It is hard to plant these tiny seeds as they blend in with the soil, which made it difficult to see where I had planted the last seed. It is odd to be planting greens in September. In Canada they would not survive, but here, I am told, they will be just fine. There is so much to learn when you move from one climate to another and attempt to farm. There is much to to understand about the seasons, the soil, the elevation, frost and precipitation. It explains why families that own farms stay in one place, deepening their knowledge of the land over many generations.

I don't have a photo of it, but after I planted this bed Guy and I installed the drip tape. I have had to learn how to install and fix drip irrigation tape since arriving in California. In Canada there was so much precipitation that we did not ever need an irrigation system, but here in California, even sitting right next to a river, we need water. The sun is blisteringly hot even now in September (99 degrees yesterday), and the plants wither within hours without plentiful supply of water. Guy got out a huge wooden reel and I grabbed the end of the drip tape and ran to the opposite end of the bed where I hooked the tape up to the valves that run off of the main water pipe. You have to get the pressure in the main pipe perfectly set or the delicate drip tape explodes when the water starts surging through it. The trial and error of figuring out how far to turn the lever gives you plenty of opportunity to learn how to repair (or replace) the drip irrigation tape! Yesterday, in the process of getting the drip irrigation tape hooked up, I reached down to move some soil that was obstructing the valve and ended up finding myself cupping soil that was moving. After I recovered from the shock of having picked up an enormous, and amazingly well camouflaged bull frog that had been happily enjoying the coolness of the water dripping from the valve, I hooked up the tape and turned the water on. I love the sound of water surging down the lines, and the image my mind creates of the rows of seeds beginning their journey up out of the soil. 

Before I left I harvested some tomatoes for salad, and some gorgeous flowers for the kitchen table. The sunflowers in the garden are towering beauties right now. They are their own solar system. The sun in the sky pales in comparison to their bright yellow brilliance. 

The mighty ones that towered above me I couldn't bear to cut down. But I brought a few smaller ones home. They are shining warm light all over the kitchen. 

Aren't they pure joy?

And on that note, I will leave you with a tune from Luke Slot, called 'A few Honest Words.' 

I hope you all manage to get outside this weekend, and that the sun is shining brightly when you do! Have a great weekend, friends. See you here Monday!

Farm dance

© Breanna Rogers & Delisa Myles, 2011

I love to dance. I know. Best kept secret in town. The most recent dance class I took was a belly-dancing class in January 2009, a much-needed respite from the cold winter on Prince Edward Island, in Canada. That was the first dance class I had taken since 2004 when I took a flamenco class for about a month before moving to Canada to pursue my Master's degree. Growing up, my world revolved around gymnastics. But gymnastics involves quite a lot of dance, so I took jazz dance, ballet, and even a bit of tap dancing along the way. By the time I was in high school though, I had quit everything but the ballet required for gymnastics. Pointed toes, arials and chains of back flips were my world. I only had one career aspiration through most of high school, and that was the Olympics. Then, at age 16, I was given the ultimatum: move back to the US and enter full-time training, or accept that I would never reach my dream. With my parents and all of my friends living in the Mediterranean, the thought of leaving them all behind was too much. I gave up my sport, and spent the remainder of high school focused on my academic work.

© Breanna Rogers & Delisa Myles, 2011

In 1996, I had the opportunity to take a modern dance class in Cyprus with an amazing dancer and choreographer named Arianna Economou. She encouraged me to re-inhabit my body, and move from within instead of always being focused on having perfectly pointed toes and straight legs. It was a new world for me, and I loved it. In 1998 I moved to Arizona to attend Prescott College. I had not intended to take a dance class, but I needed something to balance out my other, more academic classes, so I registered for Intro to Dance and Improvisation with Delisa Myles. I did not know it at the time, but Delisa had been a gymnast as well, before turning her focus towards dance. Still relatively self-conscious when I entered her class, the environment that she created within the dance studio to explore movement both alone and with others was one in which I felt free to experience a great deal of transformation. I formed deep, life-long friendships with women who are still some of my closest friends; I started letting go of the fear of making a mistake, or the need to be whatever I envisioned as being "perfect" at the time; and I was invited to dance some very important stories that brought together my love for poetry and creative movement. That I still have the journal that I kept during that class is an indication of what an important formative experience the class was to my development as a writer and creative artist.

© Breanna Rogers & Delisa Myles, 2011

Delisa and I have kept in touch over the years through Facebook, and this week I noticed that she had posted some spectacular photographs for a course that she will be co-teaching with Breanna Rogers this summer (June13th - July1) at Prescott College called "Farm Dance." I wrote to Delisa, asking for more information, and received the following:

"This class provides a forum to begin a dialogue between artists and farmers, bringing to the table a conversation that investigates the relationship of the cultural and the agricultural. We will visit nearby farms and gardens, observe and participate in land cultivation practices, and allow our artistic impulses to be informed by each site. We will examine and experience how aesthetics and labor interplay and how one feeds the other. We will look at the connections and crossovers between food cultivation and art making processes. Our artistic training will involve volunteering labor at local farms and studying the aesthetics of dance composition and site specific work. Focus will be on the body and how it responds to imagery, hard work, and our connection with the cycles of nature. The mediums of dance, performance, and visual art will be used as vehicles to increase awareness in the local community about how and where our food is grown in the Prescott area."

© Breanna Rogers & Delisa Myles, 2011

I don't know about you, but the idea of bringing together two things that I love to do -- farm and dance -- sounds sublime. And having spent the last few years working with, interviewing, writing about and photographing farmers on their land, I have become very aware of how powerful the stories of the relationships between those who grow our food and their farmland is. Our farmers are people who have intimate relationships with and knowledge of the natural world and the shift of the seasons at a level that many of us have lost simply by virtue of living in towns and cities, and not being present for the small daily changes and miracles that farmers witness every minute of every day. With all of the unpredictable changes going on in our world and economy, farmers generally manage to remain hopeful and optimistic. They have seen the ups and they have seen the downs, and they know that life moves in cycles. As one farmer told me once: "Farmers are natural optimists. How can you do a job that involves planting seeds in the soil and then seeing the miracle of the rain and sun working together to make them grow into edible plants, and not believe in miracles?" Delisa went on to explain the rationale behind the class. She says:

"Farm Dance is a course designed to makes connections between the art we make and the food we eat. It is the intent of this course to create art that helps bring greater visibility, appreciation and support to local farms. The course provides our students with an interdisciplinary approach to learning and allows art and performance to intertwine with agriculture and ecology. There is a trend of festivals and forums popping up around the nation that bring diverse creative thinkers together for collaboration and exchange. There is a growing need to allow a wider spectrum of creativity to interrelate, rather than being highly specified and separate. This course provides a model for experimentation between disciplines and creates new connections within the community. Farm Dance is one of a series of courses being proposed for the summer which address sustainability, art and embodiment."

© Breanna Rogers & Delisa Myles, 2011

So many of the problems with our food systems right now involve a lack of collaboration and interrelationships. People going to the grocery store to buy a tomato that has been marked up ten times its original price so that the store is making an enormous profit, while a few miles out of the city the farmer who grew the tomato is being paid the same amount he/she was earning in the 1940s (if that). Children who do not know that their food was grown in the earth, or that cauliflowers and broccoli are flowers. Communities that are so concerned about keeping the price of their food low that they would rather buy food that is saturated in chemicals that could, in the long-run, result in soaring medical bills later in life. Communities that have no idea who grew the food they are eating, or where it was grown. Communities that no longer have the knowledge to be able to grow their own food. All relationships that we have be taught to not think about, but that are vitally important parts of being conscious, well-informed and responsible eaters.

Artists have been painting, drawing and photographing farmland for generations. The creative and visual arts are, in a sense, a way of refocusing our attention on something from a new perspective. A painting of farmland makes us stop and take notice and reflect. Farm dance, similarly, makes us pause and rethink our relationship to the land. Farmers' relationships to the land. The relationship between the seed and the earth; between the rain and the crops; between the wind and the snow and ice and the health of our soil. It invites us to ask ourselves: how would I listen if my existence were dependent upon, and interconnected with the natural world and the seasons? How would I interact with my community and the natural world around me if the health of each was dependent upon the health of the other? How does my relationship to and awareness of the earth, the sun, the rain, and the tiny details of the day and night change when I live in such intimate, close relationship with the land?

© Breanna Rogers & Delisa Myles, 2011

Intrigued? Prescott College is an experiential education liberal arts college offering Bachelor's, Master's and P.h.D programs in a wide-range of subject areas. Located in northern Arizona, the college is known for its creative and innovative teaching practices that use the southwestern landscape as a classroom for students to gain hands-on, real life experience in their field of expertise (or in this case, to dance on and with beautiful agricultural land!). I received my Bachelor's degree from Prescott College, and consider it to be one of the best choices I have ever made. It transformed my vision of what education is, and can be, and opened me to new ways of seeing and relating to the world and my community, wherever I live (and no, in case you are wondering, I was not paid to say that ;-)). If you would like to contact the admissions office, you can do so here.

I am a big fan of anyone doing anything creative, but both Delisa and Breanna have spent their lives engaged in some exceptionally amazing projects, and encouraging others on their own creative journeys. You can learn more about Delisa, and enjoy some delicious photographs of her work here. 

And with that, I will leave you with another of Breanna's beautiful photographs of Delisa. It you get a chance over the next two weeks as we head into spring, do some spontaneous dancing somewhere that you usually would not -- preferably out of doors. A beach. A farm. an outdoor farmer's market. A park. Maybe find yourself a partner to dance with. I find that makes it all the more fun. Let go. Explore that line between your body and the natural world around you. And if you feel like it, write a poem or take a photograph, and share it with me here. Have a great week!

© Breanna Rogers & Delisa Myles, 2011

Double digging on Louise's birthday

 

Today is a special day. It is one of my best friend's birthdays. Louise has been reading my blog faithfully since my first entry. There are few things as encouraging as knowing that a brilliant artist and well-read librarian reads your blog on a regular basis. If I had been on Prince Edward Island today, I would have been enjoying her excellent company. As it was, today was double digging day in the youth garden on Soil Born Farms, so I spent the day outside, immersed in the promise of happy plants! To get myself in a digging mood, I listened to the upbeat and incredibly energizing Vishten tunes all the way to the farm, and by the time I got there, I was revving to get my hands on a shovel and get those beds turned!

It was a rather grey day on the farm, and showers kept moving in over the valley, so we did not get as much done as we would have liked, but we did make some progress, and given that this was my first digging of the season, and the fact that I am in the middle of a 19 day religious fast in which I do not eat or drink from sunrise til sunset, my body was content with having our day cut short by rain. Even the short distance we did cover had us sweating despite the cool wind and rain.

Double digging is a way of mixing the soil up, circulating nutrients, and breaking up the soil so that it is looser and better facilitates the growth of the plants that we will be transplanting out into the garden in the next few weeks. Basically you dig a trench across the bed that is a bit wider than the width of the shovel, piling the soil from the trench on the soil bed. You then loosen up the bottom of the trench with the fork, and once the compacted soil is loose and airy, you move onto the next trench, emptying the soil in it into the first trench that you dug. Sufficiently confused? You have to give it a try. It is really quite simple once you start digging. And your plants will be very grateful, and reflect their gratitude in the form of a plentiful harvest.

This is Guy, my digging partner in crime and director of the education programs on the farm. His faithful companion's name is Natoma, named after a nearby lake.

Despite the cold weather and the rain, it felt really good to get outside today and do some intense physical work. I have been feeling really discouraged about the lack of work opportunities lately. Lots of doors not opening at all no matter how much I knock. So the digging was good for the body and the heart today. 

We also got to see more Sandhill Cranes migrating overhead. They make a beautiful sound -- very different from Canada Geese, and one that I am starting to recognize, when they are passing overhead. Watching them fly over the farm today made me wonder where they are going. Do you know? I will have to look it up. Below is a short video of the Cranes flying over the farm. I could not keep them in the viewfinder the whole time, but you can hear their distinctive call. My apologies for the buckets at the end. Will have to work on my video skills. :-)

It is evening now. The sun will be setting in 15 minutes, and I will be breaking my fast with a nice hot cup of sweet tea. Although I would have liked to get more of our beds done before the rains moved in over the farm, getting home early today meant that I got to call Louise and wish her a happy birthday in person before she headed to bed. I am incredibly grateful that the universe brought Louise into this world on this spring day. She has brought an amazing amount of colour into the world for one woman, she has added beautiful and sensitive songs to the world's melodies, and she has always been good for a cup of tea and a long and deep chat about anything and everything. She also has one of the most enthusiastic puppies I have ever met, which must say something about her too, right?

Spring is on its way. The rains are bringing much-needed moisture to the valley. The sun is setting in four minutes. And I am grateful for awesome, inspiring and encouraging friends like Louise. Happy Thursday, and happy, happy birthday, Louise.

I. Love. My. Life.

I really do. And since it is Friday and I think I might be getting sick despite only being on day 3 of my 19 day Baha'i fast, and am home on a Friday night, in bed, I think it is time for a list. I suggest you join me and make a list too, just for the hell of it. Random reasons why your world rocks. I will go first. But I would love to read your reasons if you feel like posting them here. Here goes. Random reasons my (currently delirious) world rocks:

1. I spent my entire day on Thursday on a farm in the sunshine harvesting vegetables, weeding an herb garden, and canvasing a local neighbourhood with some very cool high school students. We were trying to find out if people with fruit trees in their gardens wanted us to harvest their fruit through a program called Harvest Sacramento. The owner can keep as much of the harvested fruit as they want, and the rest is donated to the food bank.

The Youth Garden at Soil Born Farms

Waiting for the youth to arrive at Soil Born Farms

Youth cooking healthy meal at Soil Born Farms

One of my favourite activities is planting seeds in springtime, like these fancy mamas (a.k.a. Bachelor's Buttons):

and these beans, that are going to be mighty tasty in soup:

 

And not only do I get to plant seeds, but sometimes something miraculous happens from one Thursday to the next. Something that looks like this:

And if you knew me as my friends back in Canada do, you would know that when I see these little fellas pressing up through the earth, I am imagining something like this:

I am told that the seeds above in the foreground are Lupins. I have yet to see whether they grow quite as tall at the PEI variety! 

Oh. I almost forgot. If that was not enough to make me the happiest woman on the planet, I also got to see this yesterday above the farm:

I hope you can make them out here. There were huge flocks of Sandhill Cranes migrating north. They were beautiful!

2. I have amazing friends all over the world who make me laugh; who go running with me; pray with me, and are always there when I need to talk:

California friends

Three Canadian women whose friendship has changed my life

 

3. I am having my first tea descriptions printed on Lady Baker's Tea Trolley tea packages this week. Will post photos when I see the labels on the bags!

4. The round the world journal that I am working on with eleven of my amazing friends made it safely to New Zealand despite the earthquake and the fact that the house it was addressed to was so damaged by the earthquake that my dear friend Pascale had to abandon it. You can keep updated on the whereabouts of our journal, and see a few peeks of the beautiful and inspiring content at unconventionallyinspired12.wordpress.com

5. Tomorrow I am driving to the Bay Area to pick up a soulmate from BC, who will be spending the weekend with me. A fellow writer, we are going to take long walks, drink tea, and write together. I cannot wait to see her radiant face tomorrow!

Ahava, looking radiant on the organic farm she lives on in British Columbia, Canada

 6. I received a package in the mail today from Green & Black's organic chocolate containing a gift certificate for REI so that I can go and start purchasing the gear I need for my expedition at the end of the month. The days are passing so incredibly quickly! I cannot believe that I head to the Dominican Republic in only a few weeks! You can see the monthly updates from the five of us from the US that will be headed down to the organic cocoa farms at the end of the month here.

7. I got my Master's degree in island studies. And although people always look at me funny when I say that, the reality is that it means that I get to go to places like this, and call it work:

8. Spending so much of my time on islands means that I get to experience truly spectacular natural landscapes and wildlife on a regular basis. The natural world, and my relationship to it, is an integral part of what I value most about the world. I will finish up this entry with a video clip from one of my favourite places in the world -- a cape that I used to drive to often after long summer and fall days working on a farm on PEI, in Canada. I would lie in the tall grass and listen to and watch the cormorants. There are hundreds of them nesting in these cliffs on PEI. The ocean crashes up on the rocks. It is wild and spectacularly beautiful.

And with that, I wish you a wonderful Friday night, an excellent weekend, and an enjoyable list-making session! (I would love to read your lists here, if you would like to share). I will be out exploring the world with Ahava this weekend, but I will write a full post on Monday to share some of our adventures with you.