Wednesday, July 20, 2011

In The Gardens: Good and Evil

Text and photos by Greg and Trina

This year's drama in the garden is, unfortunately, the same as last year's drama in the garden: a full scale squash bug infestation.

Squash bug eggs


Nymph


Adult


Having committed to doing our garden organically means that our integrated pest management plan A is to manually hunt the squash bugs in all their stages: adults which are, we have to admit, kinda scary, even to a non-sissy-girl like Trina. Like little armored tanks, they lurk and dart and, when bothered, emit a stench that stays stuck in your nose for a week. They're so quick and elusive that to catch them without damaging the plant they're on, you have to knock them off the leaf -- many people knock them into a bucket of soapy water -- or be really quick and careful with a pair of scissors, catching them with the blades and cutting them in half.



Here, a mostly scissor-severed squash bug. As the damaged bug continued to slowly crawl along, it was immediately set upon by small flies, which climbed onto and inside it's carapace and began to devour the guts. This satisfies us. Not because we have a deranged urge to see bugs eaten alive. But because A. we want to eat squash and dead squash bugs will help, and B. we want to encourage the natural systems around us.

The nearest of those systems to our everyday lives is our garden. It could be argued that a planted garden cannot be defined as "natural". But we are more inclined to feel that humans have a role in the natural cycle of things, and that our plantings are a conscious attempt to encourage healthy interaction between plants, insects, spiders, birds, worms, fungus, bacteria and other critters. Trina has planted many non-food flowers and plants that encourage beneficial pollinators like bees and butterflies. Plants whose seeds provide winter food for birds. Plants that discourage damaging insects. Plants that act as hosts to all kinds of little critters that bring wonder to the garden without hurting our ability to feed ourselves with the produce. The garden soil itself is a living system of microbes and tiny creatures that break down plant matter and add nutrients for the next year's crop.

Our intent, then, is to nurture ourselves and to make room for the myriad interactions and cycles that occur naturally among plants and creatures.

Example: These are squash bug eggs that have been parasitized by a wasp. (See bugguide.net)


If we feel that humans have a role in the natural cycle of things, we also feel that certain human organizations have twisted the role from one of encouragement, guidance and cooperation into a scorched-earth battle. Instead of learning how to better work within natural systems that have been thriving and developing for, oh, millions and millions of years, companies like Monsanto are striving for fascism. Their directive is to allow only their own "superior" crops to survive. To do so they develop poisons that kill plants and insects. They engineer their plants to withstand these poisons. They distort markets to force farmers who want to continue farming to buy their seeds and grown their crops. They own powerful political forces that allow them to obliterate competition. They assert their power to gain more power.

A recent example. [source1 source2] Monsanto and Bayer corporations are the cause of the colony collapse disorder that is killing bees. Their neonicotinoid chemicals sprayed on crops disrupt bee nervous systems. Bees are needed as pollinators of crops many other plants. Their selfish "solution" to dead bees (and other beneficial insects) is not to find new ways to encourage pollinators, but is instead to genetically engineer crops that self-pollinate. No bees. No problem -- for anyone growing patented, corporate-controlled, genetically modified, monopolistic food.

It's the kind of "win-win" solution that looks great on a corporate spread sheet. No more pollinators means everyone must buy their modified seed and profits go up. A wider view, though, suggests that destroying natural pollinators would have massive long-lasting negative effects on, well, most everything. When pollinators die, plants die. Entire ecosystems collapse. This is private-corporate-profit-motivated destruction of a resource held "in common" by all.

Our tiny garden is no match for an entire corporate-political system striving for short-term profits at the expense of long term health of that larger garden of our planet, our communities, our bodies. Yet each day, as we spend time weeding, lacing vines into trellises, pruning, harvesting and snipping squash bugs, we stand on a small bulwark to the rising tide.

More good garden scenes:

Southern magnolia




Ladybug pupa...


...and emerging adult


Birdhouse gourd flower


Happy bucket o' potatoes!






Sunday, July 17, 2011

Adventure on the High Seas --er, River

Words by Greg
Photos by Trina and Greg




We floated down a stretch of local river. Two of us and two dogs. Two friends. Scenic. Pleasant. Just a little splashy in spots. Not exactly an Adventure with a capital A. Still, I managed to survive the four hour float IN MY ANTIQUE PACKRAFT.

I had a new inflatable camp mattress for a seat, raising me up somewhat and out of the depths of the boat. And I'd managed to patch it up enough that the depths of the boat weren't nearly as deep as the first test float. All my patchings and repairs worked pretty well. For the first half of the float.

Sure, there was a little sagging as we bobbed along. Wasn't sure if there were some actual holes I'd missed, or if it was just from a general seepage through the old fabric. But it was all very manageable. Until after lunch, when an old patch worked its way loose and air started bubbling out one side. No problem, though. I just leaned over and huffed it back full as we paddled along. Just leaned over every four or five minutes and hyperventilated into the valve. Just leaned over with my hat in the water or with my face -- if there was a wave -- in the water and huffed and puffed it back to buoyancy. No problem!

So we floated our whole run, and I floated my whole run IN MY ANTIQUE PACKRAFT. Which was at least a tiny little bit like Adventure. With a capital A.



























Saturday, July 16, 2011

Rock and Shadow

by Greg

Cloudless summer evenings. Sun drops. Air cools. Shadows grow. Wheels spin. Trails wind through towers and boulders. For long moments there is no better place to be.















Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Ancestral Dirt



Words and photos by Greg

I had to leave our happy valley for the occasion of a family visit and to do some bidness. Headed off over the mountains to the Dark Side of the state where most of the people congregate and where my direct ancestor, my dad lives.

My dad and I have a trip planned for later this summer. The trip involves days and days of riding dirt. My dad rides. He's ridden for years. It's his fault that I got started messing around with bikes. And though he's training hard for our trip, he hasn't done much dirt riding. Ever. I wanted to get him out onto some trails to get him some more experience.

In honor of the occasion, I finished hacking together a crappy bike made almost entirely from parts I've been scavenging from bike shop trash over the last few years. The result was a completely rideable–if creaky and homely–singlespeed bike. I gave up singlespeed mountain bikes a couple years ago when I realized that "No one cares that you ride a singlespeed" and that it didn't do much to make my knees happy. Still, singlespeeds are simple and easy and tough and I had the parts laying around. I brought the bike along with me with the intent of leaving it in Denver.

Dad had told me that he'd gotten himself a cheap mountain bike. And it turned out that he had. Cheap, I mean. Not much of a mountain bike to an elitist bike snob like I can be. But rideable. In a 1993 low-price kind of way. Fully rigid. Long stem. Canti and U-brakes. Biopace chainrings. All dressed up with a lavender paint job. I, however, with my retro singlespeed frankenbike, didn't have much room to be an elitist bike snob.

Dad and I headed for Green Mountain hoping for some trails that were fun and not too hard. I put him on my bike, hoping a little bit of fork travel would help him. Which left me on his lavender "mountain" bike. We hit the dirt and headed off. The trail was rolling and pretty smooth and flowing. The kind of trail that would make lots of guys wear tight spandex and ride a bike more expensive than they needed in order to impress their buddies. We did not impress anyone in that manner.

Dad was painfully slow on the way out. Climbing he was okay, especially for 75-years-old rockin' a singlespeed. But descending, he was all tense and locked in place and sketching. I gave him some tips: Get behind the saddle on descents. Stand up and let the bike roll over rough stuff. And at first he wasn't getting it and I was clueless as to how to help. But as we rode our out-and-back, some light bulbs went off and he started to put it together. By the time we got back to the trailhead, he was kickin' it. Getting his weight back and getting off the saddle and generally looking like a mountain biker. He even felt the thrill of impressing a passerby on the final descent, when the guy riding up eyeballed dad's singlespeed and his sweet form. 

I left my bike in Denver with Dad so he can get some more practice and have some more fun before our trip.

I know: No one cares that you ride a singlespeed. But when my 75-year-old dad rides a singlespeed, I think it's pretty cool. 

Dad, spinning away out across the grasslands.




Me, amid the green. (After he left for an appointment and gave me my bike back.)