Soggy Srping Beauties

     Winter can be depressing, especially if it's cloudy and days are dark, like they have been recently, and it rains a lot. Ironically, it can be equally depressing if it's not rainy this time of year. Our whole environment here is based on a rainy winters and when the sky is zipped up, it can be scary. Last winter was especially so.
     Of course, it's nice to have sunny, dry days to get out and garden, hike, bike, or just be outdoosr as bonus days in winter. But it's also nice to have enough water that native grasses, plants and trees aren't stressed, ratcheting up fire danger. Wells dry up and rivers shrink, affecting fish, wildlife,  farmers, ranchers, recreation and the economies built around them.
     So, I swore I'd never complain about the rain again - and so far I haven't. Even when our wet-

Wet-weather stream

weather stream flowed over our driveway. We can handle that. The trees the stream flowed through - and even flooded - got a boost to root strength. I hope they're banking moisture for the upcoming dry period.  (OK, the weeds developed better roots too, but we can probably handle them if we get after them at the right time.)


Gifts of Color
     Mother Nature gives us sure signs of spring, no matter where we live. I've seen two already: turtles in the pond at the end of the road (a very full pond, I might add!), and the first wildflowers.  I'm often surprised at how early both arrive. The parade of colorful blooms always starts with what my former neighbor called Spring Beauties. And they are just that. They're tiny, seemingly delicate little purple flowers. In reality, they're pretty doggone hardy because they're stepped on by humans and wildlife. Once you notice the first one, you'll see lots and lots of others that either just magically appeared in that very moment - or went unnoticed. For how long? How could I not notice them?
     Am also seeing signs of flag iris that will appear in another month or so. The bulbs are pushing erect leaves and stems up through the muddy soil, mainly on the south sides of hills. The blossoms will eventually arch with their own weight and bloom in such beautiful purple and blue hues that it will be impossible to resist picking gazillions of bouquets of them.
    People in town are already enjoying spring bulb colors. We're just high enough in the hills that such displays are delayed by weeks. That's just fine; it extends the season since we're in town regularly so enjoy them there first. Besides, there aren't as many wildflowers in town and we'll have a veritable symphony of color (iris, columbines, tiger lilies, Shasta daisies and much more) once they get started.

 Mosses and Lichens

Winds this winter flung lots of mosses and lichens to the ground and I've always found them fascinating. Robin Wall Kemmerer, a professor from the east coast, wrote a beautiful book of essays called Gathering Moss: a natural history of mosses (Oregon State University Press; 2003). I highly recommend it.

  

Our old fruit trees are in their "golden years" and we fear each is their last. But they're hardy! Some branches succumb each year, but even in death there is beauty as lichens and mosses take hold. Birds seem to love them too when they stop by the suet baskets - whether for bugs or nest material, or just to revel in their sensuous "fluff" - who knows? 

Seedy Characters

     I just spent two fascinating days transplanted into another world - one filled with "seedy" people. Really, these folks are passionate about seeds. They're bona fide seed geeks, whether they work in farm fields, home gardens or research labs. Before you roll your eyes, remember that if it weren't for them, you and I wouldn't eat. Even if you're a carnivore, whatever animal you eat relies on plants to survive.
     Best of all, these folks focus on organically-grown seeds.
    This was the 8th biennial conference presented by the   Organic Seed Alliance. Five hundred people came from across the country and around the world.. Another 500 signed up to watch the recorded workshops online. This is especially heartening since there were only about 60 people at their first conference. There were folks of all ages, levels of experience and probably as many women as men.

Many participants are also authors

    Why would they let someone in who has only casually saved a few dill or cilantro seeds (which require no more talent than to shake them into your hand)? I could easily have felt like an interloper, but was never made to feel such. While there were plenty of technical workshops, other topics we are (should) all be interested in: GMOs, seed security, how communities can grow their own seed and food, seed banks, how climate change is affecting our food supply, how can we adapt to change. If you do no more than simply eat food, all of this should concern you.



Frozen
     The keynote speaker, Cary Fowler, known as the "father" of the Svalbard Global Seed Vault sent shivers through the room not with photos of the frigid mountain into which this seed bank is carved, but the precariousness of the seedbanks around the world. Most are quite unsophisticated with little temperature control, cataloging or proper maintenance, putting the world's seed heritage at risk. Risk isn't just from natural disasters, but from human ones. Only one nation has withdrawn seeds from

GrassRoots Books had the last 38 copies of Folwer's first book

safekeeping at Svalbard. That was Syria. Fowler said they had managed to get their collection samples in Svalbard just before chaos hit Aleppo and when those who work with them got to another safe country, they asked for them back to start their research and production again. They will, of course, make another deposit to Svalbard. Most of us may not understand the urgency of saving seeds grown in a given place. We assume we can just send them some of ours and all will be fine. It won't. Our seeds won't work everywhere and besides, ours may well have been adapted from seeds that originated in that country. Most of us have no clue as to the critical interdependence of seeds. Seed "geeks" are responsible for not just our survivability, but our basic health. We owe them far more that we'll ever realize.
Patented Greed
     What most struck me was the fact not once did anyone utter the arrogant phrase "feed the world." That's a catch-phrase commonly used by the likes of  Monsanto and Syngenta to justify their patenting  as much heritage seed as possible in order to control the supply and "improve" it by making it resistant to their herbicides and pesticides. That all boils down to money. Lots of money since no one can survive without food.  I've never been to one of their conferences but can only imagine there is a lot more secrecy, fancy suits, and lawyers. At the Organic Seed Alliance there was just one suit (on an older panelist from Boston), lots of backpacks with juice jars poking out of them and hints of dirt under some fingernails. That's not shameful in this crowd. In fact, it's a tribal badge, it shows you understand and respect where food comes from. Fancy manicures would draw suspicion as much as patented seeds or patent leather shoes.
     Rather than make me feel like an interloper our outlier, this crowd left me with awe and gratitude. They also gave me a feast of food for thought which will feed my writing for years to come.

Cultivating Knowledge and Cohorts

     People may think farmers prop their stockinged feet up by the woodstove in winter, enjoying novels or video games and big bowls of potato chips all day, with nothing to do while it's cold and wet outside. After all, you can't plow mud, and tomatoes don't grow on cold, cloudy days.
     Well, actually tomatoes do grow in winter, but not outside. Farmers and hyper-gardeners have myriad starts under grow-lights in warm spaces or on heated mats already.
     Winter is when farmers are prepping for early planting. They know they've got to have your favorite summer produce--things you might well grow in your own garden--ready when your taste-buds crave them fresh and you just have to have the first local zucchini or tomato - you simply can't wait 'til yours are ready. By late summer when you're sated and are sneaking them on neighbors' porches, they're not gonna' be selling many. And especially if everyone is getting them free from gardening neighbors.
     This is also the time of year that farmers gather with their cohorts at conferences 'cuz they sure can't do it in any other season. Their families barely see them the rest of the year, unless they're working the fields too, which most probably are. One spouse often has a job in town, though.
     Speaking of spouses. When you hear the word farmer, you probably think of a guy, no? Me, too, more often than not, I confess, even though I know numerous women who farm, either on their own, or as part of a family farm. The latest issue of Oregon Tilth magazine, In Good Tilth, is devoted to women farmers and food leaders -  and not just locally. I highly recommend finding a copy (in Corvallis at First Alternative Co-ops, by the produce section. It's free!), or you can read it online.
A Novel Idea
     A decade ago, a group of folks from non-profits that dealt with food recognized the difficulty of food producers and food consumers making critical contact, especially as the local food movement was gaining traction. So, they organized a gathering where farmers, orchardists,  ranchers, processors, grocers, restaurants, schools and others could meet, share concerns and ideas, and exchange business cards. They named it the Local Food Connection.  Not every farm or food producer had a website back then, nor were search engines all that efficient. The idea worked and has grown. Each year, about half the folks attending are there for the first time. It's inspiring to see young people connecting not just with potential customers, but to meet mentors in their own fields (no pun intended).
     One of the highlights is the always-amazing lunch. Ingredients are generously provided by food producers attending and the Lane Community College's culinary arts students prepare an awesome lunch. Even the continental breakfast was excellent: blueberry coffee cake made with local grains and berries, locally-crafted herbal teas, smoothies, keifer, milks, granola, yogurt, hummus, nuts, dried fruit, etc. It's a world away from typical conference fare of glazed donuts and coffee with artificial creamers. (Bleh!)
     While I learned a lot at the workshop featuring chefs with their own farms supplying ingredients (Excelsior Inn & Ristorante of Eugene, .Gathering Together Farm, Philomath, and Agrarian Ales, Coburg), I had a most interesting conversation with a fellow from SnoTemp, a local company that stores and ships so many of the local and regional products that end up at my local food co-op, grocery stores and restaurants. I really hadn't thought much about where businesses stored their foods off season or how they keep them at the best temperatures, be it frozen, cool or warm and dry. "But what happens if the power goes off?" I asked. The manager I talked with said they would be fine for several days if doors weren't opened much because the building is so well-insulated. Interesting!
Seeds of Security
     Monday was spent with farmers and buyers. Friday and Saturday will be spent learning about and from the folks who, literally, are at the very source of it all: seeds. We are truly blessed to have some of the best seed professionals in the world right here in "Cascadia" (northern California to southern British Columbia, Idaho and parts of Montana. Even right here in the Willamette Valley. Stay tuned.

Spring Teaser

     Friday was one of those unpredicted, very unexpected spring-like days in January. For a little while, there was nary a cloud in the blue sky and  the expansive fields of sprouting grasses and wheat were an iridescent green.
     Yes, rivers were swollen from recent rains and many ditches were overflowing, spilling big puddles-almost ponds into some yards and fields, but it was one of those glorious bonuses that makes you smile - makes everyone cheerful.
     But, of course! It all made sense listening to the news later in the day about the storm bearing down on the east coast. It seems that when they get whacked with nasty weather, we enjoy the opposite - and vice versa. Funny how that works. Last year when Boston was almost literally buried in snow, we were enjoying one of the warmest, driest winters in recent memory.

     As luck would have it, I had an interview scheduled on Friday that made the day all the nicer. It was at Peoria Gardens, east of Corvallis. I spent an hour wandering through some of the glass houses of their nursery with the son of the founder - now general manager, Ben Verhoeven, absorbing the history and vibrant colors that are starting to grace gardens of those with the greenest thumbs. Soon, the more fair-weather gardeners, and those just developing an "addiction" to gardening, will be unable to resist the magnetic pull of the 4-inch pots of color lined up at local nurseries. 

    If you find such plants irresistible and live in the Willamette Valley, you've seen Peoria Gardens

tags on flowers, herbs and vegetables for decades in local nurseries or independent businesses. You probably have--or have had--some of them in your garden.
     Or, if you've been through Corvallis in the summer, you've seen their huge, colorful baskets dripping with flowers, hanging from street lamps.
     There's an interesting history and some exceptionally nice people behind all that life and color. You can learn about them in my article on Peoria Gardens that will appear in the spring issue of Take Root magazine, due out April 1st.

    In the meantime, rest assured, the wet-weather streams will dry up, rivers will slow, soil will warm and we'll be surrounded by lots and lots of glorious color and new life.

Update: the article is available now: http://ezine.takerootmagazine.com/HTML5/Duhn-Associates-TAKE-ROOT-Magazine-Spring-2016?pageNum=20.  Better still, get a copy at your favorite store (see website: www.takerootmagazine.com for locations). It's chock full of interesting people and places, well worth keeping for future reference when you're ready to explore this glorious region.

The Key Ingredient

     Our winter farmers' market opened on Saturday. It's been a long two months since the end of the summer markets, especially for people who prefer local foods nowadays. Not surprisingly, the place was packed, making it hard to even approach some vendors. That's ok, we'll see them next time. I got the essentials.
      I could spend paragraphs waxing poetic about getting all the ingredients for a complete meal, even in winter, from grains and breads to all kinds of animal products and vegetables - even fresh fruit (persimmons!). Or that you can get prepared foods too, including soups delivered to your home or office - by bicycle.
     But, as I began writing, I realized there was something deeper I brought home. Something we can't eat, but is nourishing nonetheless. Essential, even. It's the intangible at the heart of any local market or small business, the heart of the whole local food “movement.” It's the relationships established between farmer and eater. No two are alike, nor can they be franchised. They're what make each conversation and transaction unique, each business healthy and the overall community strong.
     They're also why it takes me a long time to get through any market. My husband has learned that if he comes with me he'd better be prepared because it's gonna' take a while.
Winning Fate's Lottery

     I realized long ago that we live in an exceptional place and I feel truly fortunate to have landed here.

     I'm also fortunate in that I've gotten to know most of the farmers at the markets over the years, through interviews for articles I've written about them, or various events I helped organize, including a farmers' market in our rural neighborhood a couple decades ago. I've worked a few farmers' markets myself and sold produce I had grown at some, and elsewhere.
      In fact, it was two of the vendors from our rural market who moved our winter market into town where it might attract more customers. Did it ever! That was the market we squeezed in to on Saturday. They've done a fantastic job, but it took a few years and more work than people realize.
     We have no clue what it takes for the vendors to prep and set up for markets (early hours, sleepless nights going through mental checklists, and preparing for all the customers who stop at the ATM on the way and expect change for a $20 right off the bat). That doesn't include all it took to grow, harvest, process and store their produce, grains, meats, eggs, honey, nuts, etc. If we knew, we'd realize what a bargain local food is and not waste a morsel.
The Key Ingredient
   But it's the relationships I found myself thinking about after leaving the market. I've known some of the vendors since their first year in business, before their kids were born, or at least when the kids were pre-schoolers barely able to count a dozen, let alone make change. The memories make me feel both old and in awe.
     Farm kids often learn lessons their friends in town don't. They're literally surrounded by the family's livelihood (or at least part of it). They're hyper-aware of seasons and weather and  likely had to pitch in when weather or harvest was overwhelming, or a critical worker couldn't be there. They've probably pitched in at markets, doing lots of heavy lifting to unload and set up. Maybe they dread the hours of having to tally figures in their heads under the scrutiny of customers (it's exhausting) and count change. Or, interact with people when they feel really uncomfortable doing so (think puberty). Maybe they raised the animal whose parts are coldly listed by the pound on the blackboard, named it and fed it every morning before school, or grew the strawberries on display, missing a friend's birthday party because the berries needed to be harvested and prepped for market.
Can't Keep Them Down on the Farm...
On the way home from the market I thought about conversations that day, and:
     The farming couple I knew even before they were married and their son who is on scholarship at Harvard. He grew up on a vegetable farm, but his parents and grandparents had science degrees and he inherited the gene. Where will it take him?
     The kids of another couple were home-schooled by their mom, who works at a hospital, and dad, who is a full-time farmer. Each market season they were a little taller and less shy. Then, one summer the oldest son brought goods to market and sold all by himself. None of the kids were at this week's market; I look forward to learning what they're up to now. As I purchased meat that I know they helped raise, the mom and I got distracted by using my credit card with her smart phone, a transaction neither of us could have imagined when I first met them a decade ago. She had spent the evening before figuring out how to allow customers to use that same technology with pre-paid farm cards. Even the parents are still learning in this ever-changing world.
      The daughter of another vendor grew up in a home without electricity or running water, by choice of her parents. It's a lovely house in the country with lots of hand-crafted features by the parents, sometimes with wood grown on the property, whence also comes the wood for the heating and cook stoves. She grew up without a television, a gift that stimulated her imagination, as did her love of books even before she could read. She learned to make just about anything she wanted to play with. She, too, was home-schooled the first few years and when she eventually took the bus to school in town, she was ahead of her classmates. Today, she travels the globe giving talks in front of big crowds of "techies" for the software company she works for. I watched a you-tube video of one of her TED-like talks. Much of it was in a technical language I don't understand, but the essence of that little girl shone through the lovely, self-confident woman I saw onscreen. Someday she may want to settle down. When she does, she'll already know how to plant a garden, preserve its bounty, raise animals and keep bees. In the meantime, “Oh, the places she'll go!” to paraphrase a favorite book.
     The daughter of another vendor who, 20 years ago, impressed me with her strong work ethic when she was barely in grade school, is now a medical doctor.
     The son of another just started a year abroad in South America, near where I spent almost four years. Yes, I'm envious!
     Another vendor has no kids, but has been dealing with her husband's life-threatening illness. While she looks great and was cheerful for someone so stressed, I glimpsed in her face the age I felt just thinking about all those grown kids.
     What I brought home from the market was a reminder that there is depth to conversations with people you've known for decades that transcends the purchase of any item or even chat about the rivers reaching flood-stage outdoors.
     Few items at a farmers' market have labels but, if they did, the relationship with the vendor should be listed as a key nutritional ingredient.

Stepping Into Another World

     Over many years, I've met countless creative types in our amazing community. As a writer, I get to ask such people lots of questions when they agree to an interview. It's the coolest job ever and constantly inspiring.

     There are creative people in any category you can think of and many you'd not. This community is a rich beehive of activity by artists of all stripes - from fine arts requiring brushes, charcoal or pencils, to others requiring bare hands and a few simple tools, to still others using computers and sophisticated instruments. There are whole categories of art: fiber, metal, paper, wood and clay to music, film and writing, with subcategories within each.  All require passion - and there's lots of that going around here. Inspiration is everywhere in our environment and among the people who live here. When I stop to think about it, everyone I know has some degree of passion about creating something, be it to eat, use or savor with the eyes and heart. Some are very talented, indeed.

Ingredients

      Everyone who creates is constantly looking for ideas and materials, be they physical ones you can touch or emotional ones that touch you. I've written about people who take physical materials - tin cans, used tires, phone books, old clothes, etc. and turned them in to art or new items for everyday use. This week, I met a fellow who does that with used horseshoes.

    He's not the only one to use horseshoes, including used ones, for other purposes. Many a horseshoe is soldered together to spell out names of ranches, or hold jackets, hats, toilet paper or wine bottles.

An elk heading towards Main Street...

     Bud Thomas uses old horseshoes to make life-size animals, from squirrels and owls to elk and rearing horses, plus salmon, herons, wasp nests, trees, turtles, eagles, dogs -- whatever nature inspires.
     His studio is in Philomath, in the very spot where he was a self-employed auto mechanic for many years. What started as something to keep him oblivious to winter until he could get back on his horse and ride trails into wilderness caught the eyes of others and soon he quit is day job.



     Bud generously shared some of his time with me to explain his process and show me some of his current work. Like most artists, he doesn't like to show a work in progress, just as writers are loathe

to show their first drafts. I respect that so you won't see some of the pieces I fell in love with, such as the heron in the sandblaster with his work gloves resting on her legs (I swear she blinked when he opened the blaster box), or the salmon whose eyes show curiosity and just a touch of temper.
  Thanks to local farriers, he rarely runs out of shoes. It's amazing the sizes and thicknesses in his many barrels of them. Their initial cleaning is in a cement mixer, then comes the process of sensing what they will become - and how.

     There is obviously a lot of hard physical work involved in this form of art, not to mention standing on a cement floor while doing so.  A problem-solver at heart, his work space is filled with clever methods he's come up with to save energy - both his and other forms (electric, propane, etc.) and tools he's designed to ease the process. They involve everything from old filing cabinets to scraps of pipe to a split oak log and more. There's not a step in the entire process that he hasn't tinkered with as much as the shoes themselves.

  
     You can see Bud's work on the internet, and it's a good place to start, but if you live near Philomath, it's worth the trip to stop by his studio. If he's not there, you don't have to go in, some of his animals are displayed outside, on Main Street, until they get adopted. (Since it's now one-way, heading west, you'll catch sight of an animal, such as the elk above, on your right between the first two traffic lights.)
     I can guarantee you'll be inspired.

New Year Questions

     The first day of the year is a big day of wonder: what will the year bring? What can we do to make good things happen? What will we have no control over? There will be good and bad, and some things we can't even imagine today.
     As we walked through one of our favorite spots in one of the beautiful forests that surround us, we couldn't help but wonder aloud just how much longer it will be there. So many of the areas around it have been clear-cut and this has some stunningly beautiful huge, trees. Each could be worth a fortune. Some of them may be almost too big to fit any of the remaining mills. What a wonderful "shame" that would be.
 

Photo by neighbor and walking buddy, Joan Martelli

     We've watched, heartbroken, as so many forests have been clear-cut in our neighborhood in the last 10 to 15 years. Of course, trees do come back and healthy ones are stretching above the weeds now in most of those cuts. Still, it will take decades for them to have the mix of varied and natural undergrowth, what loggers consider "trash" trees  (madrone, maples, oaks, etc.) and all the wildflowers and berries that magically appear after time and support unseen wildlife. Those forests have given us so many wonderful hikes and lessons in seasons, flora and fauna. News of bear and bobcat sitings ripple through the neighborhood occasionally, as do complaints about people showing up to shoot their guns without permission, or ride motorized vehicles where they're not allowed, especially during dry, hot months when fire-danger is high. Coyote choruses are heard regularly and nothing compares to stepping outside in the still of night to listen to owls visiting from one woods to another. Most everyone who lives out here enjoys walks in the forests (even the clear-cuts when necessary) as much as we do. I joke that it's been the best health insurance we could ever invest in since it's so beautiful and inspiring you want to climb the wooded hills every day. It's no joke, though. It's true.
     May we all have many more new years to enjoy the forests. As we do, I often wonder what the beautiful trees we used to enjoy--but were cut and carried off--ever became: walls? furniture? cabinets? beds?  I hope they're bringing as much comfort and pleasure in their new stations in life as they did when we knew them. Our house is built of wood, as are our furniture, cabinets, fence posts, etc. and we use wood as heat. We also have lots of books and, as a writer, I go through reams of paper. It's good to remind myself that we're living in, surrounded and warmed by what was once part of a forest that brought others joy, lessons and health at one time too.