Monday, February 14, 2011

Fava Beans and Compost Schemes

Sandy was my first yoga teacher. Her home sat in the forests of Bayfield outside of Durango. We would make little ventures out to her house on the weekends, winding our way back through the winter roads which remained shrouded in ice from the thick shadows cast by the evergreen trees. I remember most the baskets of beautiful nature artifacts, the crystals that sat on the window sills,  the petunia plants that she brought indoors to escape the killing frosts of winter. I remember the smell, it was earthy; like the woven mats that covered the wood floors. I remember sitting around her kitchen table, each one of us so young at the time, talking about life lists. "The beauty of a list is that you write on it what you want at that very moment. It can be anything" she told us. "When you accomplish that, you cross it off and move to another. If the time comes that you don't want it anymore, than you just take it off. It's that easy." Sandy was my introduction to lists. Now ten years later, I love them, they drive me. I think the best fulfillment of my lists happen when I can cross the items off and smile because I had forgotten that I had written that item there so long ago. I had forgotten that it was just an idea or adventure at one point and now it is reality. My lists today just keep growing but you know what? I find solitude in my list because it tells me that I have time. I have time to slow down and eventually I'll get to each of those items (if even I still want them there). Sometimes life gives you the opportunity to cross off pieces of the list at the best times, and had the opportunity come any earlier it just would not have been right. so what am I working on now? This is the precursor to the "I want a farm" item. I've been working on learning composting. I find myself suddenly introduced to individuals that I am amazed with, those that have tactful, beautiful ways to share that knowledge; I could not have asked for anything more. These particular pictures came from an afternoon of a compost workshop I arranged through the sustainability center. I was fortunate enough to have one of the best soils professors I have ever seen in action teach the down and dirty of outdoor composting. How did he do it? We dug through a horridly rancid smelling compost pile all the while he taught everyone about why it stunk (it had become waterlogged and anaerobic due to lack of oxygen.) He then showed everyone how to re-layer it into a healthy, well balanced C:N ratio lasagna style pile. Hands on work at it's finest. We ended the night by planting fava beans into the student cooperative housing garden beds. "If nothing else gets planted this year, at least they'll have fava beans."

Monday, February 7, 2011


(Tradition) the only explanation this blurry picture needs. I am a fool for these sentiments, however I think many of us really are. This particular tradition part of a Wednesday night, it only lasted a few months but came about just before our many roads shifted directions.
Being part of a community marks tradition, even if it seems like only a small one. Consider a new tradition and pull some people together. Maybe it is with friends, music, gardens, food, outdoors......

Thursday, February 3, 2011

made for walking

I may have left it on that beach, the one with all sea lettuce; or maybe it fell out when when I crashed in the snow just outside silvertip. It might be hiding in the smooth rocks along the river, the ones I spent hours sorting through; the cabin on the creek... I may have lost it walking down the road to the bakery. 

this one is for you reader; "But in other hours, Nature satisfies by its loveliness, and without any mixture of corporeal benefit. I see the spectacle of morning from the hill-top over against my house, from day-break to sun-rise, with emotions which an angel might share. The long slender bars of cloud float like fishes in the sea of crimson light. From the earth, as a shore, I look out into that silent sea. I seem to partake its rapid transformations: the active enchantment reaches my dust, and I dilate and conspire with the morning wind. How does Nature deify us with a few and cheap elements! Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of emperors ridiculous. The dawn is my Assyria; the sun-set and moon-rise my Paphos" - Emerson

Sometimes it's just to hard to know where they will take you