5/12/11

5/12/11

Soaked and labeled two dozen or so seeds in ziplock bags & brought the arsenal down to the garden for mass planting. Coupled with the flats of starts which were delivered, there were probably 30 varieties of vegetables and over a dozen different flowers. The sun was hot in the sky. I got a serious tan. I went from white to black in a morning. Heeyah!
While I work in the garden people walk by, give compliments through the fence, but nearly never walk in. Last night I gave a Hopi elder named Harold a ride home from the Kogui's cabin, where most people have been congregating when the day's work is over. Harold's cabin is on the other side of campus. A dark walk. We talked briefly; mostly about my El Camino. I felt privileged to have him in my car.

This morning they walked past my garden and waved. They paused and decided to pay a visit. Five minutes earlier I spotted a garter snake in the garden popping his head up from the leaves in a row. I thanked him for coming and told him to bring his friends and eat as many slugs as they find. I pointed the snake out to the elders and Harold told me that many times he had passed the garden and saw me working hard, watched the building of the garden; but was called to come in this day. He believed that the snake had come to give him a a message.
Back in Arizona his wife was visited by 3 bull snakes in their home. They are one of the largest snakes in the country and are infamous for their 'bad attitude'. They are constrictors. A gang of bull snakes. Two male and one female. If Harold's wife had been harmed, he would have had to cut his trip short to be with her, not completing the work he was doing here with the other first nations people. The work trying to come up with a solution for the worsening state of mother earth. Work to preserve our cultures and our people. This lil' garter snake came to tell Harold everything was okay. That his wife was safe and he could continue without worry.
These two Hopi elders performed a blessing and gave thanks. Wow. My garden was blessed by Hopi elders.
They were also really interested in how I was growing the garden. They checked out ziplocks of seeds and marveled at how many different varieties I could grow. Tons of beans and squash. Peas for food and cut flowers. Six types of greens (not lettuce). Plants for fun like loofa and love lies bleeding. And varieties of flowers to encourage pollinators to visit often. Not to mention the dozens of tomato starts who actually made it through the greenhouse tragedy.
They asked about the soil & irrigation and were so happy to know the food flowers, and herbs would be harvested and used to prepare meals for our guests throughout the season. They were impressed bu how much food a 1/2 acre could produce.
Harold told me that he had wanted to build a community garden for the past couple of years and that they needed help. Clearing a space, fighting invasives, and harnessing water from a spring. He told me that what I was doing , growing food organically, was the answer. I got goosebumps and felt elated because that is what I believe.
The night before I'd sat and talked with some people about what the elders, specifically the Kogui's message was.What was so important they'd left the mountain and flown for the first time, to NYC of all places? The message was that we have taken too much from our mother earth without giving back. They came here to meet with other first peoples; the elders of N & S American nations and later at the Peace Summit in Newark, the Russian/Siberian elders and elders from China/Tibet. They offered them all bundles of the elements (shells, stones, seeds, sweetgrass, etc) to each of the elders and also brought them to sacred sites nearby Phoencia. A beautiful way to get their message out and have it understood around the world.
Jr. gave a bundle to the Kogui. One of the gifts it contained were a bunch of seed packs I picked up at the store from a local Hudson Valley seed supplier. They feature NY artists' work printed on a revolutionary folding & resealable sweet little package. The seeds are harvested from varieties acclimated to our area. Varieties that have been grown here for years. The plants I chose will probably grow even better where they live, near the equator. I hand selected 9 varieties. They consider it a lucky number. I'd like to think they'll plant them... in the high Sierra Nevada mountains of Columbia. Such a sweet, fulfilling thought.

Next time it's all about Mickey McSquirrel the Red and how we've made amends after a rocky start.

5/11/11

5/11/2011
Tuesday i visited a OG juice bar/market/nursery in Woodstock under the advisement of our chef and purchased a dozen or so flats of replacement seedlings. Grateful they could provide help; accomplished their seedlings weren't as nice as mine were. Glad to know that though they're gone,, I done good. I collected the seeds I had and purchased a few more big seeds (cucurbits, corn, beans & peas); easily soaked & quick to sprout. So I'm only really set back a week or two in the growing season. Of the seeds that perished, many were slow growers (peppers, cilantro, collard greens, marigolds). The nursery was able to supply all these. Problem solved.

That's relieving. My job here is to produce food for the kitchen to feed to the guests. My mission is faceted:
-to produce more veges, herbs, & cut flowers than ever here... with greater variety
-to feed the soil for next year by growing as many legumes as possible, composting, and mulching the rows with leaves and straw
-and to master hot summer solanaceae
I'm sure I'll add more to the list. For now, these keep me busy.

5/10/11

5/10/11
The weather was absolutely fantastic. Sunny, 75, with a kissing breeze. Hot enough to wear a tank top but with enough wind to cool the sweat on your body when working in the sun. The elders from the Kogi and Hopi tribes are still here after a weekend of pow-wow with the other tribes who have now all gone home. During the past week the staff has been welcome to participate in the opening ceremony at the fire pit hosted by the Mohican tribe or be audience to the many elders' talks in the conference center. This meeting of elders from N & S Americas was monumental, possibly a first. And if not a first, many moons have passed since they have last spoke. Something to be witnesses, yet I stayed away and busied myself in the garden.

Kind of scared or nervous, believing that there was something sacred about these meetings, I did not attend. Talks among first peoples, a group for which I do not belong. I felt that whatever was going down in those talks was none of my business, even though they were talking about the state of my earth too. The inner circle was made up of elders and the outer made of those not allowed to participate in the conversation... to only listen, the non-natives.
But I could not just sit and listen, I would have to hold my tongue and keep my thoughts to myself and I find that very difficult and quite unnecessary, actually. Why is my genius and wisdom not allowed to join the club?
I was struggling to be a part of what was happening without compromising my belief that we are all sacred, not just those with ancient cultures. I felt crazy for thinking of bringing it up in conversation, to seem disrespectful; but it was all I had to say. I felt it in my gut and that's never wrong. I needed a way to relate with the elders without having to be opinionated. In a way less business, and more play. They had been here for 4 days and I hadn't even met them.
The anxiety of wanting something so bad, yet not knowing how to get it was paralyzing. I was in that stretch of learning something new, where you search everywhere for the answers, but cannot find them, stressing out with worry. It's that wonderful moment of clarity that comes after you've thought of everything... the levy breaking. That sweet release when you surrender and let things happen as they will. This I live for. I did not need to figure out how to communicate with the elders, it would just happen.
My housemate Jr. has been the Kogi's go-go. He drives them around, feeds them, makes sure they have what they need. At the end of his long days he comes home and we talk about 'what the natives did today'; what they spoke of. The Kogi live at high altitudes in the Sierra Nevada mountains in Columbia where the snow pack is recognized as the life force. Everything below is fed by the melting snow via rivers and springs. Lately the pack hasn't been as abundant, the valley below drier than in the past. The weather is changing.
They have come here to NY with a message to the world that we are taking too much and not giving anything back. This isn't hot off the press news. Any logical, well adjusted, conscious person can see the rapid pollution and destruction for profit. The greed. The planet rape. The slash and burn of lands as well as it's people for centuries. Why have they chosen now to bring this message? Is it 2012? Is the shit really going to hit the fan soon? Who knows. I do know life has shown me the same answer as the elders bring, to give back. To return the earth's offerings to her.
And that's exactly what happened this afternoon. It was still a beautiful day. I had set up the rinky dinky greenhouse bought for me. Cheap 'made in china' pole framing covered by what closely resembled two shower curtains zipped together. Crappy, but suitable for housing my seedlings trays. A great space to harden them off, acclimate them to the outdoors after growing indoors under florescents in a windless room with controlled heat since their birth.
So I staked it down and filled the shelves with trays filled with hundreds of seeds I grew. I checked on them this morning, opened the zippers for air flow, and again at lunch.
After helping out in the kitchen all day, I returned to my garden to find the wind had uprooted the shanty greenhouse and tossed it into a crumpled mass of plastic and bent metal. Snapped plastic, and of course an army of dead seedlings half buried a pile of soil, lay up against the fence.
At first I felt like I was being punished. For what I am not sure, but I was sure I deserved it. I almost shed a tear, took a deep breath, and salvaged what I could which were mostly tomatoes, peppers, and sunflowers. I took this as a sign that these were the chosen plants. The ones that survived and were ready to kick some ass the season. Hee-yah! I had to find reason in the wind's madness. Why my garden was the wind's sacrifice to the earth or St. Francis. Acceptance. Just another bump in the road. It will only make me wiser and more beautiful. More patient, inventive, and crafty. I'll even thank the wind for the challenge. Gracias viento.

As I spoke to others on 'campus' later they too had felt the wind. Just a single gust that blew the curtains and rattled the blinds. It howled through the trees and swept pollen through the valley and back up the mountain. This gust was noticed by most, unlike the other winds today.
While this wind was blowing, the natives were speaking of the concept of giving back to our mother... I am honored to have such a special wind take my seedlings and give them back to the earth. I will recover and the garden will go on.
Giving back by being a gardener is my answer to heal nature, and we are a part of nature, not separate. To turn the soil, plant the seeds, and grow. A magical perfect cycle. Complete, sustaining, and self-sufficient. I only nurture the process. I am lucky that my passion is my work and vice versa.

5/4/11 - 5/6/11

Tore up from the floor up! That's what my body is telling me. The garden is amended, cultivated and dug into rows. Most of then are straight, running east to west, but one is concentric triangles and another... free-form. I mulched the paths between the rows with leaves and hay. It looks beautiful. I'm so eager to plant my first outdoor sown seeds; apart from the excitement I have for planting the hundreds of seedlings I started inside last month. Some seeds appreciate being planted in their permanent home, rather sewn inside early and transplanted later. Kinds like people. The later is more resilient and likely to recover than the former.
Beets, carrots, fenugreek, peas, and spinach. Though I know people on the west coast are harvesting beets right now, the seeds are sown a couple weeks before the last frost, which here in Phoenicia, is early may. The cherries haven't even bloomed yet. When I left Seattle in late March they were just breaking bud.



5/6/11
Today I woke up alone. Just as I do every other day here, but today I felt lonely. I miss my old pup. I miss waking to find her taken over my bed, sleeping longer than me, rolled on her back, and stinky kisses on my nose. A good morning. I miss her fuzziness & her sweetness, but most of all I miss her constant companionship. I miss her thinking that I'm the best person in the world to be with. I miss her wanting to be with me at all times. I miss being loved.

5/1/11 - 5/2/11

5/1/11
I cultivated the garden this weekend. It finally stopped raining thunderstorms and the sun came out. The soil really does look like black gold. I'm excited for a super growing season. After all, it does all start wit the soil.

5/2/11
Spring has hit and everyday progresses before my eyes. The spring brings, warmth, rain, wind, and length of daylight. Nature wakes up and gets busy fast. The color of the hills change from morning to evening with the swollen flowering buds and unfurling hardwood leaves. All the fuzzes are collecting seeds along with the return of the birds. This one's for them.

A list of my neighbors with flight who have shown up already:
(clicking on the link will just show pics randomly found on the web)
red winged blackbirds
juncos
blue jays
cardinals
red-bellied woodpecker
pileated wood pecker
sparrows
chickadees
titmice
wild turkey
rose breasted grosbeak
crows
grackles
swallows
brown headed cowbirds
morning doves
robins
northern flicker
canadian geese
hummingbirds

and my current favorite and long awaited... the oriole. I love orange in nature and their sound is bittersweet. I wasn't sure if they'd leave their beloved south for northern delights, but there he was singing in the trees. Only till the next day did I actually see him.

Bad Brains Banned in DC @ CBGB's 1982

4/28/11

I've been finding it hard to get excited about my morning journalings. They seem, well, boring lately after reading the past few. Wanting something juicier to write about, I realized I haven't said much about where I am exactly.
I am working in the Catskills at a place called Menla Mountain Retreat. It's affiliated with the Tibet House in NYC, a non-profit run by the Columbia professor of Tibetan studies, Robert Thurman. (he was the first Westerner to be ordained a Buddhist monk!) Rubs elbow with the Dali Lama. Menla is like Tibet House's second home getaway up in the woods. A place to hold functions and seminars put on by Tibet House as wells non-affiliated speakers, yoga specialists, nature guides, meditation teachers, ... spiritual gurus of all sorts.
It is best described as a resort for spiritual events located in Phoenicia, NY on over 300 wooded acres. It lies in the valley Panther Mountain where Esopus River winds. There are springs all over the mountain creating waterfalls and streams (with the help of all the spring rain). It is surrounded by state park and recognized by the Audubon Society as being an 'important' bird area.
The facilities and amenities include a conference center, yoga center, meditation sanctuary, tennis courts, pool and cabin-like buildings of varying sizes to accommodate guests. Like cabin/hotel rooms, each sleeping a different # of people, they are scattered around the property. There's also the inn where the business goes down, front desk, dining hall, massage rooms, admin offices & 2 upper floors with guest rooms.
There are also two main trails; one leading to a look out on the ridge and the other cutting through the core of campus, satelliting to the buildings.
The river has a low dam, probably built well over 100 years ago, maybe for tanning operations. It creates a shallow tranquil pool, big enough to put a lil' row boat in, but not big enough to go anywhere. A great spot to lay in the grass, listen to the rushing water and watch the clouds float through the sliver of sky framed by the riparian maples, ashes, and elms. On top of all that there are expansive woods to explore, where you can make your own path.
There's a skeleton main crew who work all week and multiple part time staff who volunteer when there's a function, getting room and board and the invite to participate in whatever function's going down. Functions usually happen on the weekends, 2 or 3 a month. A handful of us live on the property in sweet cabins, while most other live locally.


The whole place is run by Robert Thurman's wife, Nena. She's a tall Swedish woman with a commanding (& demanding) demeanor, who's astrological sign is Capricorn & who's sister shares my name and spelling. She is feard by most coworkers because she knows what she wants and cares nothing about the frivolous. She doesn't give a fuck because she's confident in her own. She may seem rude to some, but I think she'd rad. Though my belief in astrology in fair, I do notice I tend to get along with certain signs better than others and some stereotypical sign's traits reign true. Is it just coincidence or truth? Who cares, it's entertaining and sometimes a good rational ("Working with that guy sucks! It's because he's an Aries...") I get along very well with Capricorns, always have. They have a patience I admire and besides, they have a tolerance for my Taurean headstrong tendencies.
The point is that Nena likes me, so I'm told, and that rocks. She was super-fine in her time, a 50's fashion cover model and had some awesome friends Salvador Dali, Charles Mingus, Velvet Underground, and Tim Leary to name a few. Nena and Robert Thurman are also Uma Thurman's parents. I hope she will invite me over for dinner sometime.
Before I came here I was a bit nervous about what to expect. Though I am not a Buddhist, let's just say I spent my time with the spiritual hippy lot and understand. Not that I am enlightened, but I have a good understanding of myself, I usually feel confident in my role here in this crazy world and know that your must search your soul for answers to life.
I had visions of a bunch of placid, flaccid people running around saying 'hey sister' and not ever feeling anything but 'all good'. That I'd be in a hornet nest of hippies and either be forced to give up sarcasm and convert or be drugged with calming herbal tinctures until I surrendered. Surrender to what I'm not sure, but I was scared I'd be the brash Jersey girl with the potty mouth who smoked cigarettes and drank too much. The bad one.
Much to my dismay and relief, the people here are like people everywhere... imagine that. And sarcasm abounds, after all we are in NY even if it's upstate. But the wit is balanced by a genuine and honestly displayed care and love from the folks here. I love it. Real people trying to live honestly. Well adjusted, a word opposite what I had envisioned.
Back to the fame... for there are many others surrounding. My direct manager's history is kept a secret even though everyone knows about it, and pretends not to. Remember Client 9, when ex-NY state govenor Elliot Spitzer got busted with the hoe? My manager was his hooker-booker. I think she's got some serious cojones, she just got caught that's all. Nothing to be ashamed of or to hide. It must be a burden not to be able to laugh at yourself for that one.
Now I sound like I'm just spreading gossip, but I've haven't worked with many people who were considered scandalous... kinda how I almost feel my life has been just without the audience care enough to put it on the front cover. I am a rock star, of the plant world. Plants are my instrument and I kick ass. My work is appreciated and eaten. People from around the world have taken pictures with my work, but my maker's mark is more difficult to read and my work is alive, growing, constantly taking new shape.
Bad Brains live down the road in Woodstock as I am sure do a few other artists and musicians, this area seems to be the NYC under-2 hour-drive-getaway and it's freakin' beautiful and actually quite inspirational. Let's not forget about magic. I found out about Bad Brains after mentioning them to my buddy, who apparently slept with one of the member's wives over 20 years ago. He grew up here in the 70's & 80's when the hardcore scene was birthing. He wasn't into hardcore, more of a classic rock type o' dude, but says BB played in the little local bar all the time. What I would have done to grow up in a town Bad Brains played the local dive every Friday. Sheesh.

4/26/11

4/26/11
For the last half of yesterday I raked the wooded trail running from the main guest lodging to the yoga and conference centers. I had walked it the day before and remembered it being just a few leaves and sticks, nothing major besides a slim downed tree across the path, easy to maneuver. When I actually brought my rake up there the work turned out to be much more. Not difficult exactly, just enduring. But there's something about trail maintenance & raking in general. Of all gardening tasks, it is the one I enjoy the most. You only need a good spring rake, (& occasionally a chain saw) and that's it. There's no heavy lifting, or bending for that matter. A constant repetition with both hands who's work can be focused in your core, to rest your arms though continuing to rake.
The path was bordered on each side by a line of rocks. Uncovered by leaves it exposed a path that was about 5' wide, enough for two people to walk side by side. The path's rocks went around the trees adjacent to the path, including them, the first I've seen. A tree-hugging yet wondrous idea. There's something about clearing a path free of all debris, leafless; and looking back through the woods dark rich dirt cobbled with stones, Defined and curving.
I got my upper body work out for the day... or so I thought. Later in the day I helped the maintenance guy, my buddy, collect burnable debris from around campus*, mostly wet, soaked boards and logs that became eye sores. The 'unusables' people throw 'out back'. Where they start out as being a "perfectly good 2x6" and never get used, just begin tho rot. We collect a pick-up's worth and lit it up. Wet on the outside but dry on the inside (there were a few pressure treated boards in the mix... sorry mother nature!). This fire burned hot. There were also 2 old shit houses in the burn; ancient outhouses (1970's?). After my buddy loaded them one at a time onto the pick-up, he manhandled one onto the fire. Though we thought it might just smolder, everything went up like a volcano! 20' flames, a fire as hot as hell. Hot as a shithouse on fire. (The small tar paper roof may have accelerated things, the white trash in us coming out. Lo siento.)
* A term I use in exchange for 'the property'.