unknowns
every project gives its own little lessons in humility . . . and either you let it beat you up or you let it remind you how much there is you don't know. . .
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every project gives its own little lessons in humility . . . and either you let it beat you up or you let it remind you how much there is you don't know. . .
after collapsing from a 13.5 hr. workday, involving hauling junk in the morning and then 10 hours of haying, I wrote to my friend Mike of the long day. He had little sympathy, saying that it was 12:30 and he was waiting for "beam time" (he works at the particle accelorator). What follows is my response:
the beam does not demand that you throw 35lb bales from field to truck (stacking them 4 high) and then from truck to barn, waking with your fingers like arthritic claws, imagining for a moment that you have descended prematurely into the aging process and your joints will never be the same, pain so intense that it will not let you sleep past 7:30 until you uncurl your fingers and massage your knuckles and try with pins and needles to lure yourself back into dreams. science does not move 1200 bales in a day. that'll feed more livestock than any beam.
Yesterday I worked harder than I think I ever have, on a given day, in my life. It was an epic 13.5 hour day. Starting with work at the construction site, staining wood and piling junk. A quick break and I headed out to the hay fields at noon, to hay the rest of the day. Loading 35lb bales from field to truck, from truck to barn. 10.5 hours (actually, just 10, cause we had another .5 hour break). We loaded 1200 bales of hay. I lifted so many that I woke up this morning with what Pete affectionately calls "the claw." This is different from the pins and needles I've had for the last few weeks from hammering and sawing heavily--waking with numb hands that take a few minutes to shake off. This was a pain in the tendons, runing from knuckles to elbow, making it extremely painful to bend my fingers. Lovely. All in all though, it felt fantastic to work that hard.
For a long time I've thought that the current problem of invasives--scotch broom, blackberry, purple loose strife to name a few of the more obvious ones--is one that nature would settle itself (I owe this mode of thinking to a variety of influences, but most noticeably my friend and ecologist Adam Ford). Of course, it's difficult to convince a lot of people, particularly environmentalists, of the unknown benefits these plants may bring. Though they're quite destructive in the short term, eventually they'll reach some kind of equilibrium. That's kind of the nature of nature. Anyways, this ramble is all to say that I feel somewhat vindicated. Permaculture expert (and co-creator) David Holmgren has this to say about invasive species in Australia (re: the burgeoning Landcare movement):
Implicit in permaculture strategy is the acceptance that nature is an active designer herself and that it will be the co-evolutionary development of wild systems which may be the real keys to sustainability. Wild nature is evolving new ecosystems from a mix of self reproducing species at an ever increasing speed. This "ecosynthesis" is natures self organising response to the disturbances since European settlement and follows patterns described by systems ecology.
In some areas especially along streams the ecosynthesis process is advanced to the point where forests of mixed native and exotic species are beginning to show systemic characteristics. Study of these advanced examples of ecosysnthesis is conspicuous by its absence apart from a few informal permaculture inspired projects.
For more this interview, information on permaculture and Holmgren's forthcoming book, Permaculture Principles, visit:
http://www.holmgren.com.au/
A little explanation, at long last. I'm on Denman Island, 45 minutes north of Nanaimo, in the Georgia Strait between mainland BC and Vancouver Island. The island itself is about 1200 people, and maybe 20 or 30 km (?) from north to south. Most people who visit Denman know it only as the gateway to the more touristy Hornby (attractive because of its fine sand beaches), if they even bother to learn its name. Though Hornby is the more celebrated island, I've so far found Denmaners nothing but welcoming. We've found work and great community, in only our first month, in a place where there's supposedly nothing. It's true that people here are a little more insular, isolated, than those on Hornby, but it's just that they like their privacy, they like doing their own thing, something I can strongly relate to. There's a group of folks here who are welcoming and politically motivated, and manage to blend tradition with innovation, for the most part seamlessly. Not to say Denman hasn't had its share of problems of course, extensive logging, and a push for development (like golf courses and condominiums) since it's so close to Courtenay, but there seems to be a strong community resistance to that, to which we hope to add our own voices.
As for who "we" are, I use that term to refer to Peter, Emerson, Sam and myself, those of us who live on "the farm," thus far unable to find a more original name. The property itself is 40 acres of wetland, forest and cleared area. We have 11 sheep, 20 young chickens, a quickly developing garden, one dog, a treehouse, and lots of ideas for the future. We're basing our development of the property around permacultural principles (Bill Mollison, David Holmgren, Toby Hemenway have all published excellent books on the subject), with an eye to some hoped-for political activism. For more information on these subjects go to: http://www.livejournal.com/users/madfarmers/
Denman looks to be my home for the indefinite future, and although I'm always a little to restless to stay anywhere forever, basing myself from Denman, growing with the community here, seems like a pretty great possibility.