The Real Dirt on Farmer John

I watched this film for the first time last night and was truly inspired. What an incredible window this provides on the devastating impact the ‘green revolution’ and agribusiness have had on family farming in this country. It broke my heart to watch that old man  with tears running down his cheeks recounting how he watched the concrete of encroaching development being poured on the black soil, the good land, next door.

What does it say about a country when we see no better use for intensely fertile land than the erection of tract housing that is obsolete the day it is completed? What does it say about a country when the government stumbles over itself to bail out the home builders responsible for building the ghettos of tomorrow? Yes, it is painful, but we need this housing retraction more than anything right now. Something must stop us from building tomorrow’s ghost towns in the middle of the desert, from laying concrete on the arable land where it actually rains.

To watch this man revive his farming enterprise and espouse organic and biodynamic principles was truly inspiring. Community Supported Agriculture made his enterprise viable. The CSA built a new barn and bought new land. Interns and visitors came from across the country to sweat and sink their hands into the soil, to fall in love and grow their own food.

What an inspiring vision for the future. Watching this film provided me with more than an evening of outstanding entertainment. It gave me a clearer picture of what my life is about. As I pour love into the first of my garden’s seedlings, I know that everything I learn this season will serve as the foundation for a future inspired by Farmer John.

Letter to the Mountain Mail

Below is a letter I just sent to the Mountain Mail in Salida, CO. With any luck it will appear in tomorrow’s paper. Here’s the link to their Letters section.

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Senator Clinton’s campaign rests primarily on the argument that her experience makes her the better candidate. Yes, she seems well-versed in the ways of Washington, to the point that she can seem out of touch with what Americans are looking for in a candidate. For example, Senator Clinton repeatedly emphasizes that she is a “fighter.” This is precisely why I do not support her. Washington is chock-full of fighters, and the fighter ethic gets this country nowhere.

For all the experience talk, I think the most telling examples of the kind of president these candidates would make come from the experience of the last month or so. Obama, after weeks of mudslinging around statements made by his former pastor, rose above the negativity and accusations to give a speech that will go down in history as one of the great addresses in American history. In the midst of all the negativity, his “A More Perfect Union” address spoke to our country’s core values and higher purpose, and called on us to heal the racial tensions that still divide us.

Now Senator Clinton is under scrutiny. First for her untrue statements about her 1996 visit to Bosnia, and now for her campaign’s connections to a trade deal with Columbia which she has denounced. As in the past, when Clinton and her campaign have received negative press, she resorts to playing the victim, claiming that there is a “double standard” in the media despite the fact that she did all she could to fan the flames when Obama was on the ropes. This type of behavior under pressure says a lot about the kind of president she would make.

Of course Obama will have a hard time accomplishing all the change he has promised. But imagine a President Clinton coming up against congressional opposition to legislation she supports or dealing with a belligerent Iran. Her experience shows that she will dig her heals in, play the victim and start fighting, ensuring that the legislation will fail or worse, that Iran will be further isolated, worsening America’s polarization with that regime. Now imagine a President Obama in the same position. The experience of the last months shows that under heat, he will rise above the bickering and identify the true issues which America must confront. In so doing he will empathize with and bring together opposing sides. Rather than playing the “fighter,” he will, as he has promised, engage Iran. And his unifying verbal skills will undoubtedly help to ease tensions in such crucial cases of foreign diplomacy.

I have had enough of the “fighter” ethic in Washington. In contrast to Clinton’s, Obama’s experience shows that his ability to unify is strongest under pressure. If this doesn’t represent true change in Washington, I don’t know what does.

Mmmm… Would You Like Some Insecticides with Your Corn?

I just came across quite the interesting tidbit about a corn seed recall. Apparently Dow Agrosciences was instructed by the USDA, FDA, and EPA to recall an unapproved GE corn strain known as ‘Event 32.’ This crop has been engineered to produce insecticide and has not undergone any testing to determine health and environmental effects. Nonetheless the ‘Event 32′ seed found its way into three corn seed lines planted on a total of 72,000 acres. Yum.

Here’s the Center for Food Safety press release. If you feel so-inclined, please visit the Center for Food Safety website. They are a fantastic source of sanity in our out-of-control industrial food system.

FEDS ANNOUNCE RECALL OF UNAPPROVED GENETICALLY ENGINEERED CORN, EVENT 32 BY DOW AGROSCIENCES

With Tainted Beef, Latest Recall Casts Grave Doubt on Federal Agencies Ability to Manage Food Supply, According to Center for Food Safety

Washington D.C., February 22, 2008 – This afternoon, the Center for Food Safety voiced grave concern regarding news of yet another contamination episode involving an unapproved, genetically engineered (GE) crop.  Known as ‘Event 32,’ the unapproved GE corn had found its way into three commercial corn seed lines that were planted on a total of 72,000 acres over the past two years.  The announcement, made today by the US Department of Agriculture (USDA), the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), and the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), states that Dow AgroSciences notified the agencies and was instructed to recall the seed lines found to contain the unapproved crop.

‘Event 32′ is a GE corn variety that contains a built-in insecticide, and has not undergone the regulatory review process established for insecticide-producing GE corn.  In 2000/01, another insecticide-producing GE corn known as Starlink was mistakenly introduced into the nation’s food supply, leading to the nation’s largest-ever food recall due to concerns that it could cause allergies in those who consumed contaminated corn products.

“These days, it appears that the U.S. is not much better than China when it comes to allowing unapproved additives into foods destined for export,” said Joe Mendelson, Legal Director of the Center for Food Safety.  “These contamination episodes pose potential risks to consumers and hurt farmers through lower prices and lost markets, especially overseas.  It’s long past time we passed laws that make biotech companies financially liable for their sloppy and reckless behavior.”

The unapproved GE corn variety ‘Event 32′, was detected by Dow Agrosciences in its Herculex RW and Herculex XTRA corn lines.  Seeds containing the unapproved ‘Event 32′ was sold to farmers by Dow affiliate Mycogen Seeds and planted in 2006 and 2007.  While USDA, FDA and EPA issued a press release to quell consumer concerns, ‘Event 32′ has not undergone established regulatory review procedures to check for potential adverse environmental or human health impacts.

“The fact is that consumers have been exposed to yet another unapproved genetically altered plant, and since no testing has occurred, we cannot know what the health effects might be,” continued Mendelson.  “In light of this week’s massive recall of beef, the agencies’ assurance that this corn poses no risk to consumers has a hollow ring.”

Exploring the Macro World

Thought I would post a shot I took on my first adventure with a macro lens. This was really the only good shot I got since it was breezy and I didn’t have a tripod. Made getting the focus right quite a challenge.

A Response to the Editors of the New York Times

Below is a response that I posted to the New York Times Editorial “Mr. Obama’s Profile in Courage.” This editorial deals with a speech that Senator Obama gave in Philadelphia which I believe will go down in history as one of the great addresses in American politics.

I deeply appreciate the thoughts of the editors. I was moved to tears over and over again listening to Senator Obama yesterday. His honesty, humanity and brilliance shined through like it never has before. I confess to feeling frustrated sometimes with the fluffiness of Obama’s claims that we need a leader who can tell us “not what we want to hear, but what we need to hear.” I agree with that sentiment, but did not know until yesterday how he would put that into action. Senator Obama’s treatment of our racial divisions was leadership in the highest sense of the word. Mr. Obama is a gift to this country. I can only hope with all of my heart that we have the wisdom to rise above this episode as fully as he has and send this man to the White House.

A new region, a new juniper variety

After getting to know the Juniper varieties of the Ark Valley, I was quite interested to become acquainted with a variety which grows ubiquitously in Utah; its common name: Utah Juniper. Here’s a sprig I found in the Lower Paria River canyon.

Visiting an Ancient Family

3/4/08

Andrew, Katie and I hiked to ruins today. Rock-hopping through the Crypto (click here for more info about cryptobiotic soil crust), we made our way to the foot of a grainery and cliff dwelling built by people of either the Anasazi or Fremont cultures (archaeologists aren’t clear which). Steps, foot pockets, carved by these ancient peoples accessed a challenging and precarious move onto a sandstone shelf which extended back into an overhang. This shelter served as the living room for a Native American family probably around 1000 to 1200 AD.

These must have been an agile people, pulling over this lip daily, to escape a storm or get water five minutes down their side canyon to Calf Creek. While there was water running in the bottom of their side canyon, a sulphur spring was the source, guaranteeing that a five minute hike lay between these people and fresh water. Perhaps they had ceramic containers for carrying water to and from the river every day. Any pottery shards telling that story were long ago taken from here by white people. Graffiti dating as far back as 1940- just after the completion of the road at the canyon’s rim- betrays the many hands that have defiled this sacred place.

In the living space, a wind-block for a fire made from flat blocks of sandstone bonded together with red clay mortar. In the corner another wall enclosed against the side of the sandstone grotto a space presumably for food storage. Only the bleached jaws of rodents remain. To the west, on the opposite side of the grotto, a shockingly narrow and unstable ledge provided access to a beautifully preserved grainery. Enclosed entirely against an overhang at the same level as the living space, a small square opening provided access to long-term grain storage.

Husks on the floor of the living space indicate that corn was a staple for these people. They must have cultivated it in the fertile floodplain of Calf Creek. If this family was like other Fremonts or Anasazi, it is likely that they also grew beans and squash and kept dogs and turkeys.

Perched in this Navajo Sandstone living room, I watched the slow sweep of the rim’s shadow move across the walls, heard the clear echoes of our voices bounce back from the surrounding amphitheater, and tried to imagine a similar scene in this very place a millennium ago. Perhaps a single family resided here, perhaps more. Surely it was a space passed on through generations. Its location was strategic, allowing for easy defense and secure food storage. Both Fremont and Anasazi are known to have lived in this canyon. Were there struggles for control of this shelter and its grainery?

It would have been a short walk to the majestic 126-foot Calf Creek Falls upstream. How often did this family make the trip? Was it a sacred place for them?

Many of these questions will forever remain unanswered. The existence of these people is as mysterious as their disappearance.

What is obvious, however, is that in the years that have passed since the last of these people rested their heads in this shelter, visitors have had a resounding impact. What compels people to carve their names in the rock here? Is the beauty and mystery not enough? Perhaps that’s just it, the mystery is too much for such people. Maybe by leaving their mark here they make the strange familiar, bring some comfort to their sense of alienation.

After several minutes of surveying we were compelled to descend from this place. Something about our visit felt invasive. We made sure to touch nothing and leave no trace. But the sheer volume of visitors to such a place as this has its impact. Just as surely as the dry desert heat preserves these bits of personal history, the curiosity of today’s masses speeds its deterioriation. As I tiptoe out of this majestic canyon, I leave my few footprints, the earth straining under the weight of those who have come before me.

Wonderful Words

Thought I would share these beautiful words which were brought to my attention recently. They are from Marianne Williamson’s A Return to Love. Nelson Mandela adopted these words in a speech and no doubt has lived by them throughout his extraordinary life.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous.
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We were born to manifest the glory of God within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously
Give other people permission to do the same.

-Marianne Williamson

Pinon Pine- Juniper Woodlands

I can summon the common name of most every tree occurring in the forests of Maine. Immediately surrounding the home in which I grew up there are, among others, maple, oak, poplar, beach, cedar, hemlock, blue spruce, fir, hackmatack and the state tree, white pine. Naturally there is more than one variety of many of these, but my fourth grade teacher imparted to me an understanding of my home woods that informs to this day my every adventure in Maine.

I settled here in Buena Vista some nine months ago, and there is something being born within me. As I mentioned in my previous post, it is a pull to know the land here in deeper dimension. Just as the a human child is born into a world of wholeness and distinguishes not part from part, there has been little dimension to my perception of the land here.

But my exploration has now begun, and it has begun with trees. I reminded myself yesterday of Princeton’s socially inept, muttering academics as I traipsed around on the river trail, lost in a copy of Trees and Shrubs of Colorado. I stood before what I finally concluded was a Rocky Mountain Juniper (Juniperus scopulorum) for about 20 minutes, inspecting its scaly foliage and breaking open its berries to count the number of seeds (1 or 2 but rarely 3).

I returned home, my thumbs and forefingers sticky with berry resin. The strong aroma of the juniper berry is familiar to most, repugnant to some given its use as a flavorer in gin.

Referring to the useful book From Grassland to Glacier: A Natural History of Colorado, I discovered that the ecosystem here is referred to as Pinon Pine-Juniper woodlands. This will come as no surprise to locals, but it was, nonetheless, a discovery for me.

Naturally then, the other tree variety I encountered in my stumblings was the Pinon Pine (Pinus edulis). Pinons are the predominant evergreen variety on the slopes of Midland Mountain, just across the Arkansas River. The generally small stature of both the Pinon and Juniper has earned these woodlands the common name of “pygmy forests.”

Pinons have short needles compared to those of their taller relative the Ponderosa (Pinus ponderosa), which grow in bundles of two. Their cones are less than two inches long and are home to the famous pine nut which is ready for harvest in the fall.

Pine nuts were and still are a staple food for the Native peoples of this land. And according to the excellent book A Natural History of Western Trees, the pine nut harvest was also a social occasion for the early settlers who would ship the crop to the east coast where it was sold in pushcarts. I look forward to the opportunity to sample the Pinons’ bounty firsthand this autumn.

While I’m still sorting out the identity of some of the trees in my backyard, it is a satisfying thing to become better-versed in the tree varieties here. It seems to somehow anchor me in this place. And it does bring more dimension to my observations. Whereas only a week ago I perceived in general terms an evergreen forest across the river, I can now glance out my window and pick out the various evergreen varieties. I can just see myself twenty years from now, a seasoned mountain man giving tours of the local ecosystem and telling stories of when I didn’t know Pinon from Ponderosa.

Finding a New Place on the Earth

I spent Sunday afternoon across the river sitting with two dear friends. We did something profound; we sat and observed our world. We watched the gorgeous interplay of the sun and clouds which blew out of the Northwest. We observed the trees and rocks and earth around us. We marveled at the sheer diversity of lichen growing on the rocks. We watched a front move in over Mt. Princeton and her sister peaks. And I realized how drawn I am to deepen my ability to relate to this land.

I saw yesterday a certain simplicity to being human. Being in this world, on this earth, I can not help but perceive. And like humans have for millennia, I am compelled to record my experience and relate it to others. This is the art of storytelling, an art I want to master.

So the story I will be telling in the coming weeks and months is the story of deepening my connection to the plot of land which I now call home. I moved to Buena Vista in June, and I am struck by how much I have to learn about this place. Trees, plants, rocks, animals, fungi– I will learn to identify and distinguish between all the local varieties.

I have learned recently that the capacity for distinction is one of the defining elements of being human. I was born into this world and saw nothing but wholeness. As I lived and grew, though, the world took on new dimension with each new distinction. Where I saw only wholeness before, I now perceived Mom, Dad, my dog, trees… The story of western science is the story of bringing distinction to our external world.

I looked around me yesterday and felt like an infant in my new home. I realized that I saw trees where there were Pinon, Cottonwood and Ponderosa. I saw mountains where there were batholiths and fault lines. I saw lichen where there were– well I still have no distinctions in this area other than to say that in a square foot I perceived probably ten different varieties of these fascinating beings.

My new mission is to steep myself in this place. To bring new dimension to my new home. I think naturalist is the word. That is what I will be. And a storyteller. I hope you enjoy relating to my uniquely human story. Blessings to you,

Dustin