Garden note to self (because self didn't label the rows)... and a dog update

© 2012 Joshua Stark

Yesterday and between storms, me and the kids planted up one of our raised beds.  Starting West and moving East:  pole beans, corn, okra, swiss chard, okra, nasturtium (edges), cabbages (edges), cherry tomatoes (North), beefsteak tomatoes (South), poblano peppers (North), early jalapeños (South), basil.

Ruben, the eighteen-month old, was the catalyst for the plantings.  Day-before-yesterday the little elf, famous in this house for throwing everything he can into the pond, had gotten hold of my package of basil seeds and tossed it in the drink.  Since they'd soaked for a while, I decided it would be best to just plant the whole packet - something I never do (I still have seeds from five years ago).  Frankly, it was kinda cathartic, and I knew it was time to get the rest of the stuff in, too.

I hate thinning plants that I've planted and that have shown the courtesy to come up, so my gardens always look a bit anemic because I'm afraid to over-plant.  Not this time.  I planted many, many seeds.  We'll see if I'll be callous enough to do the dirty work and thin the babies, although I probably will do what needs to be done and just eat them, anyway.

The bed is 4' x 8', and I'm sure I'm straining somebody's take on companion planting (tomatoes with corn), but let me explain myself.  We have three raised beds, and this year the Upper Bed was planted early with greens, onions and leeks (and now garlic, too).  Agnes asked for the North Bed, which I was tickled pink to give her.  In it we've put lemon balm, cilantro, marigolds, and more garlic, and we still have some room.

The one bed left, then, was "my" vegetable garden, and it all needed to go in.  So I started with pole beans and corn on the Northeast side to minimize garden shading.  I know that corn and beans don't get along with tomatoes, so I put in some okra (which supposedly gets along with everybody) and chard (which is always just happy to be here) in-between.  I edged everything with nasturtium (yes, I'm 30 years late to the party, but I don't care, I love a plant I can grow that tastes just like black pepper).  On the West side are rows of cherry and beefsteak tomatoes, poblanos and jalapeños (not jalapenos - and never, ever make that mistake when typing about Spanish years), and finally the infamous row of basil.

I'm afraid that the latest storm will slow down the peppers and tomatoes; I'd rather not buy flats of started plants this year, but instead get some good show from these seeds.  Our Spring temps. usually shoot up 20 or 30 degrees the day after a storm, so I'm not too worried, but you never know.  I hope to use some of the cherry tomato seedlings to fill a hanging garden bag my Mother-in-law gave us a couple of years ago, but I will buy a started pear tomato if they don't show.

Speaking of hanging gardens, we also put a Rutgers heirloom tomato in an upside-down tomato bag (complete with pretty metal stand).  The stand was my Christmas present from one of my lovely sisters, and it looks great!

Around the property, the cuttings are showing no additional signs of life, but the pomegranate, orange, fig, currant and boysenberries are definitely thriving.

Consider me your experiment for getting your entire vegetable garden in one bed.  I'll do my best to keep you posted.

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On the dog front, more crappy news.  The local SPCA turned us down over the phone because the dog I was interested in (a "lab/hound mix" which looks awfully like a lab/GSP mix) was not, according to them, good for a home with children.  Apparently, the reasoning goes, she "jumps up a lot."  B.S.  I told the lady that it was too bad they were prejudiced against children instead of taking the time to get to know the potential owner, and hung up.  I suppose they've never met a person who could train a dog not to jump up - and I'd like to know if they've ever had a medium-sized or larger dog under the age of two not jump up.  According to the Sacramento SPCA, then, kids shouldn't be raised around big dogs.  I don't know what they are trying to accomplish, but building a constituency of people who love dogs enough to want to save them obviously isn't one of them.

Microclimates

© 2011 Joshua Stark

You may have noticed that I've put up a list of what's in season right now for foraging, hunting and fishing.  Homesteaders should most definitely understand their local conditions and learn to recognize the bounty of their region's wild plants, fish and game.  This list is a general description, information I'm gathering from friends and the news.  Your neighborhood, I can almost guarantee, is going to be slightly different from the list. 

One reason for this difference is microclimates: ecological niches that so dramatically shift light patterns, temperatures, humidity, etc., that they effectively create climatic conditions different from the surrounding area.  In California, microclimates can be extreme (due to the wildly varying topography, ocean influences, and other factors), but for practical purposes, a microclimate can be as small as the length of a wall.

More intensive gardening, especially in small spaces, can be greatly enhanced by understanding light and shadow patterns and windbreaks on your property, and matching plants and watering regimens to these patterns, rather than relying on the general assumptions of seed company descriptions.  And this eye toward recognizing the influences of geography, direction, wind, and moisture can also help your local foraging efforts. 

Recognizing niches that vary growing conditions in your neighborhood may lead to pleasant surprises, usually by extending "shoulder" seasons - the weeks on either end of a particular plant's harvest time.  Greens, berries, and root veggies are all especially affected by microclimates because they tend to be low-growing and hardy plants, able to survive in wildly varying conditions (the same characteristics that also make them pests, at times). 

If it is at all helpful to you, come back from time to time and see what is in season, or will be, soon.  Definitely use the list while keeping an eye out in your own neck of the woods, especially during the shoulder seasons.  You may find a treat.

Lands on the Margin is back! kinda...

© 2011 Joshua Stark

Last year, I stopped posting to my third blog, "Lands on the Margin", because I couldn't juggle all of the ideas I'd had, and something had to give.  However, I didn't give up on the concept, and I kept the links to the blog live, just in case.  I believed the theory was sound.

Earlier this year, I decided to revive the Lands on the Margin concept a bit, as a component of Agrarianista.  In California, the added bonus from the wild seems a natural extension of agrarianism, even of the urban variety, because we are blessed with such a rich diversity of plant life.

So, I've begun a project that combines the earlier blog with a couple of new pages here at Agrarianista around LOTM (that's "Lands On The Margin"):  A page explaining marginal lands (with links to the older blog, gear recommendations, and useful plants), and a small (soon to be growing) list of Useful Plants of California's Edgelands, with suggestions on identifying and gathering, and a couple of recipes or tips on how to use them.

The old LOTM blog will be used to post the newest entries to these or other related pages I create, so if you are interested in some information about California's bounteous edgelands, please follow the LOTM blog, too!

As always, I'm interested in getting feedback on these pages, so shoot away here (or at the relevant page, itself).

Mending fences

© 2010 Joshua Stark

If you are looking for Frost, or writing of his caliber, I'm sorry for the disillusionment.  Last night, while sitting with my family through a particularly fierce storm, a tremendous crack-boom! echoed through our little cottage. 

This calculation occurs frequently in our synapses:  Rain + wind + 100 ft. redwood + crack-boom! =...?

In this case, Rain = 1.5 inches in less than a day, wind = 30 mph gusts.

Crack-boom! = 

For accuracy's sake, please note that the ducks are five feet tall...

 These were two separate branches, in reality each about 15-20 feet long.  The branches tore through the fence, and broke off our neighbors' gutter.

So, no duck hunting on this bright, shiny morning.  Instead, I'll be out mending fences.  On Monday, I'll be talking to the city officials about the possibility of removing a 100 foot-tall redwood.  If I get the go-ahead, I'll put it up on Craigslist's "free" section, if you are interested...

Changes (resisting stealing from David Bowie)

© 2010 Joshua Stark

Though I love Bowie, I just couldn't bring myself to title my post what it was screaming to be titled.

Anyhoo, I want to point out some changes I've made to this blog, and some changes to my blogging, in general.

First, notice that you can subscribe to my blog, so if you are comfortable with that sort of thing, go right ahead and sign up.

Next, although I'm going to keep it on my blog roll for awhile (so people may still access old content), I'm actually not going to post to my 'Lands on the Margin' blog separate from this one.  Now, I love that blog, and it's difficult to stop posting, but as a good friend suggested, I can easily roll posts about marginal lands into Agrarianista here, especially considering what I've come to realize about urban homesteading in California.

In California, we have a long, distinguished history of effective foraging, hunting and fishing.  We have more plant varieties than all other states in the U.S. combined.  We have a fairly close proximity to a huge variety of climates and microclimates, and the elevation changes (here around Sacramento, we are less than three hours from coast to alpine climates) provide a gigantic range of seasons (we pick elderberries from June through September).  Historically, as Brian Fagan points out in his book, "Before California", for 12,000 years our region had no need for agriculture, and by the time the first Europeans arrived,  California housed ~350k, all from foraging, hunting and fishing (including ~ 60K tons of acorns per year).

With the arrival of us Europeans came other forage-able species:  Blackberries, mustard, fennel, and many roadside weeds and ornamentals (like rosemary), often highly prized in culinary circles, are had by simply sloughing off one's pride and stopping at the abandoned lot with a paper bag and a knife. 

So for me, urban homesteading in California definitely involves a lot of foraging.  Besides, I know the edgelands better than I know how to coax squash out of my backyard soil, and I'm able to trade, from time to time, for those wonderful cup-&-saucers and other squashes we love.  The trade of things one has made, including one's store of knowledge, for others' well-wrought expertise, is the cornerstone of homesteading; it builds the community people realize they crave when they find it. 

Soon, I'll also set up some stand-alone pages:  "How to start homesteading"; and compilations (w/ additional materials) of two occasional series from my 'Lands' blog, "Edible and Useful Plants of California's Edgelands", and "Marginal Reviews:  Gear for California's Edgelands".

"River Nature Tours" (already up), is a page on my guiding service around Central California.  If you are interested in getting an up-close look at our local river habitats, please check it out and shoot me an email.  Soon, I will post information on an upcoming weekend getaway on the Sacramento Delta, with guided trips for birdwatching, learning some basic California edgeland foraging (there's more than just stuff to eat, too!), and some local flavors, both literal and figurative.

For those of you who have found some interest or entertainment here, please pass along my blog to people you think may be interested.  Also, please feel free to comment with tips, questions, suggestions, disagreements...  I'm very interested in hearing which have been helpful, what you might like to read, and the expertise you have for me and others who are also interested in urban agrarianism.

BlogHer Food '10

© 2010 Joshua Stark

Last Saturday, I found myself surrounded by women.  Typically not an uncomfortable thing for me (I've two sisters, a mother, a wife, a daughter, and four female pets), it was a tad disconcerting that they all were looking at me.  In fact, I was sitting on a stage of sorts, behind a table and with a microphone, a la' Congressional hearings.

I glanced to my right, but no lawyer.  Instead, there sat Margo True from Sunset Magazine!  Next to her sat Novella Carpenter of Ghost Town Farms, and last at the table a frightfully hideous woman with a well-trimmed goatee and... wait, that's Hank.  Whew!

But, how did I end up in such knowledgeable and skilled company?  Then I remembered:  back in the Summer, I'd agreed to sit on a panel at the BlogHer Food '10 conference in San Francisco.  This must be it.

Well, that's what a newborn baby will do to you.  Different parts of my brain have to take naps at shifts, and obviously the few cells holding this tidbit of information had been dozing.  Nevertheless, here I was.

I had an absolute blast the precious few hours I was able to attend the conference.  The morning welcome and breakfast was full to the brim with people way smarter about food than I would ever be.  I know enough about food to be dangerous, but only to myself (I know the minimum temperatures and boiling water bath times).  These folks are the real deal.

I arrived earlier than most, driving and taking BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit... I can't wait for Fresno's version) to the InterContinental Hotel, a swanky, beautiful place.  When the folks started setting up breakfast, then, I had my pick of tables (nearly all of them empty), and I chose the one farthest to the back.

Soon, the only person I knew there, Hank, came along with a friend of his, a gentleman from Atlanta.  Then a third man sat down with us.

After a bit, the place was full.  Engrossed in fun and interesting conversation, I didn't look up from my table much.  But occasionally a person would walk by, glance at our table and declare, "ah, this must be the guys' table."  And walk on.  After the fourth such comment, I glanced around the room, and, well, we did stand out.

Thus, BlogHer.

Hank had invited me to speak at a panel on food values, with the focus being urban farming/homesteading.  I consider myself a part-time homesteader-in-learnin', so I felt comfortable talking about what I'd learned about raising ducks and a garden and the like.

The panel format was awesome:  Fast-and-loose, and definitely audience-focused.  The room was filled with a mix of folks, all of them astute food-minded folks, a few farming and homesteading experts, and all of them positive and excited about the topic.

Of course, I was outclassed by the other panelists - authors, James Beard Award winners, and the like.  But they were gracious to me, and I provided something they simply could not:  Since I'm new and not very good, I was living proof that anybody can do this!

Thank you to the BlogHer folks for putting on a great show, and thank you especially to the Hunter Angler Gardener Cook, for providing me a grand opportunity.

P.S.:  If city folks think that urban livestock are problematic due to the smell, they should walk down Mission Street in San Francisco and take one big, long inhalation of that aura.  There are spots along the City (which I love), that if you smelled that on a farm, you'd start culling animals for fear of some horrible virus.

The secret to homesteading:

© 2010 Joshua Stark

I'm going to let you in on the secret to homesteading, urban or otherwise. 

Two weeks ago (nearly), our baby boy was born.  Both sets of grandparents have done some of our laundry, brought and cooked dinners, and provided some shoulders to lean on.  Aunties and uncles have taken time out of their lives to come by and hold him and his big sister, or have taken the big sis for sleep-overs. 

During our pregnancy (being the man, I still feel like I'm cheating by putting it that way, because she did all the work), and during my unemployment, we've received trips and dinners and lunches, wonderful meats and fully cooked meals, handmade clothes and canning supplies - sometimes with canned stuff already in them.  Friends and neighbors, in-laws and outlaws, all have pitched in. 

We've given back as we've been able, with fig preserves and duck eggs, but we know that we won't be able to really give back until we are back in shape, but that's okay.  When we will be able, people will get the bounty of our love, probably in the form of spiced elderberry jam, nocino and Thrifty Italian, pickled tomatillos, and more duck eggs.  For those who fish with a fly, they'll get some custom numbers for their particular style. 

These folks give us plenty of incentive to make sure we can grow, or gather, or pickle or steep or jam things to give back, to show our love and appreciation for all they've done for us through creating healthy and productive things for our loved ones to enjoy.

I look forward to the networking connections I'll get to make at the BlogHer Food conference this weekend, but not just for the chance at SEO tips or increased traffic to my site (though I'll love that, too!).  I look forward to strengthening the reason for my attempts at homesteading.

That's because the secret to homesteading, the reason for trying it at all, the impetus behind striving to get better at it, is community.  Thank you to all who've been there for us this year.

California homesteading

© 2010 Joshua Stark

My garden has not really taken off too well this year, partly because of the weather and partly because of the constant duck raids.  But, we've still done okay, getting a decent amount of our own food, much of it from foraging for berries, fruits, and greens, and also through the kindness of friends and barter.  These, I fully believe, are consistent with the spirit of homesteading.  Many folks lived off the land as they were preparing it, and when weather or pestilence (duck-billed or otherwise) impacted their crops. And, many communities were built and sustained through sharing food and other resources and skills, as people had little money but spent their time in trying to be useful to one another.

In California, I am blessed with an abundant variety of wild, feral, and invasive plants to eat.  California's Mediterranean climate, one of only six on Earth, along with its extreme geographies (highest point in lower 48, lowest point in North America, 800 miles of marine coastline, over 2,400 miles of inland waterways, 11,000 ft. trench off the Central Coast, etc.) create tremendous opportunities for all kinds of plants to make their home here.

Sadly, this isn't always good for California's habitats.  Giant river reed, the material I use to make my trellises, is a horrible riparian invasive that creates literal holes in the habitat - they provide no cover for natives, no food for fauna, no canopies for nesting, and their roots probably exude toxins that clear nearby plant species.

Others aren't as bad.  Himalayan blackberry and eucalyptus, while also terribly invasive, at least provide food and cover for some natives.  Eucalyptus may even be the reason for healthy monarch butterfly populations, as millions of them overwinter in Santa Cruz, and feed off the winter-flowering trees.

Of course, there are California's native plants, that tremendous cache of floral diversity with many useful traits.  California is blessed with more plant taxa than all other states, combined, well over 5,000, and many of these are varieties of familiar genera.    For example, the world has about 150 varieties of Ribes, the gooseberries, currants, etc. - and 30 of them are native to California.

This year, we've eaten nettles, mallow, a small variety of berries, morel mushrooms, and figs.  Knowing your places, your lands,and knowing what you can glean from them is an important part of homesteading, and is even important and successful in the city.  Many people plant fruiting trees and shrubs as ornamentals.  Others often take off in urban edges, the progeny of past plantings or escaped children planted by the wind, water, or birds and other animals.  Our local Lowe's, for example, grows a shrub variety of pomegranate in their parking lots.  Purple plums and mulberries abound throughout Sacramento, as do fennel, mustard, walnuts, and chicory in the edgelands.  Of course, nearly everybody grows roses, whose hips make great syrups and teas.  A person can acquire, for free, some pretty expensive sides and condiments.

Having good neighborly relations with folks who can provide you access to their wild-growing crops is also important to living off the land.  My friendships include folks around as long as I can remember, farmers who've provided access for hunting, fishing, and picking figs and river reed, and newer friendships like Hank Shaw, who just last week offered us some great meats, including a chinese sausage we'll devour in a couple of days.  In exchange, lately, we've been able to give eggs from our ducks.  Lots of eggs.  We've also been blessed with tomatoes, which is typically a reason to lock one's door in the Summer (to avoid more freebies), but this year, due to the weather, we've been able to give some away with glad hearts receiving them. 

I also give away non-food items, like flies tied from my ducks' feathers, and extra river reed I've cut for garden infrastructure.  I wanted to make a walnut stain from the inedible walnuts dropped, half-eaten, by squirrels, and I still hope to make a batch. 

Homesteading, even part-time in the city, brings a number of fun benefits.  And in addition to the expertise one gets from gardening, husbandry, naturalism, food preparation and preservation, a person also gets to share.